Pointless photo of the... week?

Yep, it's that time of year again. Summer season's over, which means that I go back to part-time hours. I generally celebrate that fact by disappearing for a few days. They're used to that here, thank goodness. I think they'd probably be more surprised if I didn't disappear for a few days.

Disappearing means that my blogging will be sporadic in the next while, though, because if I'm not here or at my father's place I have no internet access. It would be silly to have internet access at my apartment, seeing that I don't actually own a computer.

Yes, I still don't own a computer.

I don't need one.

I get enough of it here at work.

Anyway, no internet means no blather from me. I'll leave it to the Toronto office to decide if she feels blathery. I may blather on Wednesday, since my plan to completely disappear was foiled by having someone book me for a program (how DARE they?), but no promises.

Until then (whenever "then" might be), enjoy the melon. I have no idea why the father figure is trying to grow melons; there's no way they'll be ripe before frost. Ah well. Points for creativity, I suppose.

Pointless photo of the day:

Yesterday? Verbose. Today? Not so much.

My allergies have kicked it up a notch, which is annoying because I'm not sure what it is that's doing it. This is usually a pretty safe time of year for me, since I'm more about poplar pollen and other spring things.

It's annoying, did I mention? Both the not knowing and the not breathing.

Anyway, I'm going to forgo an extended whinge about it. You're welcome.

And today's photo? No idea, really.




You know, like usual.

Feel like a number

I'm not sure why I feel the need to be informative today, but you take it when you get it.

If you've ever been to a nature centre, a park, a museum, or another place like that and you've talked to an interpreter, ranger, or docent, have you ever considered that you were probably being written down somewhere afterward? It's true, especially if you were talking to someone who works for a non-profit agency. Everyone -- well, nearly everyone -- I give interpretive information to gets recorded as a stat. If I meet you on the trail and point out an interesting plant, or if I'm out on a viewing deck and tell you about the beaver lodge, or even (as happened today) if I pop into a room just to check on the animals and you ask me if your children can touch a snake, I'll be listing you as an interpretive contact. If I've actually taken out the snake, that is. If I say no because the snake's shedding (or whatever), then I'd only write you down if I found something else to talk about.

Stats are a pretty big part of the business, you see. There comes a time in almost every interpretive organisation's life when it has to prove that there's a reason for it to exist, and program revenues are only a part of the picture. We need to show that we're getting the message out (whatever the message may be), and contact stats are a major way to do that.

So should you be worried that you're just a stat to me? Should you avoid talking to interpreters or asking questions because you're just a number?

No.

Of course not.

Because the fact is, really, that you're never just a stat. Those of us who get into this business get into it for reasons other than the numbers. Some of us are passionate about the message, some of us like teaching and sharing knowledge, some of us just genuinely like people, some of us are all of the above. We don't do it for the numbers, but we need the numbers to show that we are, in the end, doing it.

It's all a bit of a pain in the ass, to be honest, but it's necessary.

It also means that if you see an interpreter wandering around the trails (we call it roving) or doing some kind of work that looks interesting, or just kind of standing around in the park apparently doing nothing, you should approach him or her. We're supposed to be talking to people. We do have information to share. We know things that we'd like to think would be interesting to you. And if you're interested, and if we can share something that might make things a little more meaningful or memorable to you in the long run, then we all win. Your visit becomes a little more special, we've enjoyed doing our jobs, and, because you've become a number, you count.

Ok, that last bit was a little forced. But you know where I was going, I hope.

Numbers matter, and there are much worse things in the world than feeling like one.

Sigh...

The place is a shambles.

The office, I mean.

I have no work space because of all of the crap that's piled on the desk, and I think I'm starting to get a headache from the smell.

And my butt's slightly damp besides.

Erm... that last was probably too much information.

So what caused this disaster, you ask? I hope you asked, because it was obviously my intention to make you ask.

They...





Are you sure you can handle this?

They...

cleaned the carpets today.

Yes, it's true. They cleaned the carpets. And the damp bottom, in case you wondered, is because they also cleaned my chair (amongst other things) and I didn't wait for it to dry thoroughly before sitting down on it. My fault, yes, but that's certainly not going to stop me from whinging about it.

So here I sit, damply, with all of the programming stuff that's usually stored UNDER my desk piled on top of it. It's a lot of stuff. And it's very definitely a my-job-is-weird assortment of stuff. Everything from rocks to a telescope to art supplies to... um... nerf balls lives under this desk, you know.

Usually lives under it. Have I mentioned that it's ALL ON TOP right now?

Sigh.

It's enough to break my OLF heart to see things in this state. I'm not saying I'm the neatest person in the world ordinarily, but I do admit to having an a place for everything and everything in its place mentality. It only makes sense. That's how you keep from losing things. That's how you know what you have.

Right now I have a mess.

Wheat doesn't have a mess. That's because Wheat put the stuff from his side of the room into a different room rather than on his desk. I'm the only one who has a mess.

My fault again, yes. No one said I had to put stuff on the desk instead of on the table in the other room. It was just easier, that's all.

Until a person tries to actually work.

Then it's not easier.






Sigh.

My brain hurts.

Oh, and this. No reason.

----------

Edited some time later to add this. Just because.

Pointless... something. No idea, really.

I don't really have anything for the blog today, I'm afraid.

Well, maybe not exactly afraid. It doesn't scare me to not have anything for the blog.

In fact it's so much the usual that I'm actually kind of bored by it.

Ummm...

There's got to be something...

Or not...

Ok, how about this? Sometimes comedy can be painful.

Does somebody else's sketch count as a blog post?

No, huh.

Well, I don't know what to do about this. I really, sincerely don't have anything worth blathering about today.

I should go, then.

But first, a little bit of pointless Broadway. Just in honour of today's pointless photo, you understand.

[/absolute and complete pointlessness]

Pointless spider photo of the day:

Yes, another jewel spider. I had to get up on a ladder to get this one, so I hope you appreciate it.

Anyway. Busy day, late start, other things to do.

That all equals no actual blather, in case you hadn't figured.

Besides, if I did blather it would just be about coveting my father's new television. I put on a DVD yesterday just to make sure it was working (yes, I have my DVD orders amongst other things sent to my father's place. I won't say that my postman's an idiot; just that he has an interesting concept of the meaning of the phrase do not bend), and... wow. I'm not a huge technology person by and large, but I've seriously fallen in love with this TV now.

Good thing I have a small apartment (and a small car), or I'd be seriously tempted to larceny.

Ok, maybe not seriously. But it is a great TV.







Going now. See you tomorrow, I suppose.

Renovation itch

I've never renovated a house, and probably never will. Not one for DIY, me. Doesn't help that I'm largely incompetent when it comes to anything house-related, of course. I've never owned a house, never taken care of a house... I don't really know much about houses at all, really, so it's not very likely I'll ever renovate one.

Blogs, however...

Sometimes I just get the urge to repaint, you know? Juggle things around a bit. Make some changes to the layout. Occasionally, move altogether.

Yeah.

You might notice a change in the colour scheme today. Nothing fancy; just a shift to a different emphasis. Slightly more subtle, maybe.

I'm not sure it's doing it for me yet, though, and that might be a sign of changes to come.

We'll see.

At the moment, though, I think I'll go find something to eat. This not having breakfast on my day off thing has got to stop at some point.

Oh, and the pointless photo? Well, nothing's a better renovator than a spider. They redo their homes daily. Sometimes more often than that. They even reingest the leftovers so they can make use of the raw materials again.





Let's see Ty Pennington match that.

I'm back?

Am I? I mean, I'm not sure. The Toronto office was kind of on a roll there, and I'm half-expecting that by the time I'm done typing she will have posted again.

*waits*





*measures*

Ok, whatever. I don't really have a whole bunch to say, partly because the office smells like fixative. Sorry about that, Wheat. I'm sure it will have cleared before you come in tomorrow. Fixative is fun, though. I love the smell of brucine (brucine sulfate, that is) in the morning.

Well... it was morning when I sprayed it...

I think...

Oh, relax. I didn't drink the stuff. And I certainly didn't spray much of it. AND it wasn't in an aerosol spray.

Yeah, yeah. I should have done it outside. Bit breezy out there, though.

Anyway, if you didn't catch it from the above nonsense, I've actually been doing some doodling this morning. Check the other blog if you're desperate to see the results. I've been doing a little bit better with the making-myself-sketch thing this summer (anything's better than what was accomplished last year, which was nothing), and I think maybe I can blame Illustration Friday for that. It's amazing what having a suggested topic can do in the way of kicking a person in the butt. Not that my contributions have been earth-shattering, mind, since they're generally just fifteen minute doodles on my lunch hour, but at least I'm doing something.

I'm very weird about stuff like that, you know. Or maybe you don't know, since that last statement was incredibly clear. What I mean is that I have things that I genuinely like doing -- doodling, say, or knitting or playing the piano (badly) or whatever else -- and for some reason I'll just give them up for long periods of time. And it's not burn-out, really. It's not like I wake up one morning and think god. If I have to draw another leaf I will completely go insane. It's more like one day I'll forget to do it, and then the next day I'll forget to do it, and then before I know what's happened it's months gone and I'm doing the remember way back when I used to sketch? thing in my head.

Newsflash, world. I have a short attention span.

Oh well. I should get back to work. Today's pointless photo of cats (plural, yes) was completely random, so I hope no one's tried too hard to come up with a purpose for it.





Ah... fixative...

Odd pair

This makes me wonder which the critter was attracted to: the black and white so he could sit awhile and rest, camouflaged, or to the appearance of other critters on the sandals themselves.


If one were high enough or drunk enough - or British because the Brits can find humour in all things (and how's that for a sweeping generalization) - this could be quite the conundrum to roll around in your mind.

Ommmmm ... k, that's enough of that.

I'm going back to watching mindless pre-recorded blather on the t.v. now as I just can't wrap my mind around watching the Olympic games for such things as BMXing and ping-pong and no, I don't care if it is called table tennis these days.

This morning's paper mentioned that in order to get the rest of the world interested in that latter-mentioned sport the females have been urged to steer away from the baggy clothing, switching to mini-skirts of some sort and tighter shirts. What sort of Olympic sport is that, exactly, she wondered aloud. In some places, that would most definitely not be selling just table-tennis.

/end of pointless rambling - at least for now

I lied

Yep, a couple of days ago I was taking part in the great Canadian sport called Weather Smalltalk and mentioned there were no garden photos this year but lookie what I found.


This comes from down the street, not from my own garden and we therefore still adhere to the pointless-as-to-not-turn-into-a-pumpkin rule of the blog.

Thank goodness for that.

My friend has taken to gardening this year and when all of the lilies burst forth I was summoned. I rather like this colour, probably because the exact shade is hard to pinpoint. It's sort've "cooked lobster", I'd say.

Er, yes, anyway, some shots turned out and I'm thinking of framing a few. It won't be terribly fancy; you know, probably a dark frame to highlight the background, one of those frames that has the three or four or whatever pre-cut openings. She may end up hanging them in her laundry room for all I know but I think it's nifty that she'll have a reminder of her first efforts right there in black and white.

Oh hush. You know what I mean. Black and lobster just doesn't cut it.

And as a total aside - I love finding things on my various nerdsticks that I'd totally forgotten about. It's like Christmas. Sadly, though, it happens so often now that I'm convinced I'll be able to start hiding my own Easter eggs soon.
Oh and the even cooler part is that the photo isn't cropped. My eye actually took that particular shot at that particular time. Every now and then we all need a yay me moment.

Pointless snit of the moment:

It's raining. That's not why the snit, by the way. I was actually looking forward to today's rain because my apartment's been about three degrees shy of hell for the past few days and I'm hoping that when I go home after work and open the window a rainy, cool day will go a long way to solving that problem for a while.

No, the reason for the snit is because my headache is headed to full bloom because it's too hot in the office. Did I mention the rainy, cool day? It shouldn't be warm in here.

I feel ill.

And cranky.

Ah well. I went and stood outside (under the overhang, before anyone makes any smart comments about cooling off the hard way) and watched the rain for a little while just now, and that helped a bit. It's a good, steady rain. The kind of rain you appreciate if A) you're not a farmer starting to prepare for harvest, B) you've been living in a stupidly hot apartment for a while, and C) you're not from a place where it rains every damned day. Well, I'm all of the above and I like a rain like this.

I'd like it even more if it wasn't for the headache. Sleep went better last night (thanks for asking) but I still could use about a week of catch up.

Not ketchup, no. That'd be something different.

----------

And now, hair.

Much to my shock and amazement, I've managed to wear my hair down almost every day since I got it cut. That never happens. It always annoys me far too much to go this long without clips or a hairband or something. Erm... ok, so I wore a hairband yesterday. But that was just because I didn't feel like having hair.

Anyway.

The funny thing is that when I wear my hair down I almost always get asked a fairly weird question. The question would be: do you dye your hair like that?

I should explain. I have dark hair that's going grey. In the front, mostly. I have to say that I come by it honestly. My mother was quite salt-and-pepper, but she went very white-haired in the front. Me, I don't have too much grey in the back (yet), but I have an obvious strip of white along my front hairline. When I pull my hair back (as I usually do) I look... probably pretty grey. I don't care much about it (obviously, or the cure would be a mere bottle of dye away), but I will admit that I probably look preeetty grey.

When I wear my hair loose, though, the grey just looks like a couple of streaks in the front.

Which is where the weirdness of the question comes in. Streaked hair I can see, yes, but does anyone out there actually aim for grey streaks when painting a head?

And there's no way these particular streaks could ever be mistaken for blonde.

I only mention this because I got the question from a fairly unexpected quarter here at work today. That, and it fills up blog space on an otherwise snitty, headache-y day...

Back to work now, though. I and my skunk-headed self need to go feed the snakes.







I wonder if they think it's a dye job?

Pointless photos of the day:

Which do you like better: the front view or the back view? Of the flower, that is.

The sad thing about the way my brain works is that I prefer the back, or at least I think I do. From the back you get to see how the structure is put together. Plus you've got the neat pattern that the calyx makes and...

You know what? I care even less than you do about the workings of my brain right now. I'm not in a snit or anything; just tired. Really tired. As in, I give myself about one more hour of functionality and then I'm going to crawl under the desk and pretend I'm not here.

The apartment was sooo hot last night. How hot was it? Shut up. I'm tired. It was 30C hot since I hadn't been there to open the window for a couple of days. Slept with it wide open last night, though, and managed to get it down to 26C.

Hmm. Did I say slept up there? I meant to say sweated. For the most part that's what was happening last night. Not so much on the sleep side of things.

Anyway.

My other major gripe is that I did something stupid yesterday and now my knee's all swollen and grumpy about anything involving stairs. Here's a tip for everyone, so you can learn from the moronitude that is Yours Blatheringly: if you have a heavy load and your neck's touchy from... well, see the other day's post... MAKE TWO TRIPS. Overcompensating for the neck and the bags I was carrying led to twisting the bad knee while going down the steps to the door.

Stupid, yes. But then I already said that.

I think I'm done typing now, and probably just in time. I hear the world's smallest violin is about to tune up juuust for me...

Pointless scattered thoughts of the day:

Let's play Find the Fishes, boys and girls...

No reason.

Oh, and this. No reason for that, either. It's just been the mood lately.

You know, I honestly tried to think of a real blog post today. I did. Then I got distracted by yet another American reference to Canadian bacon. It's... something of an annoyance to me, that whole Canadian bacon thing. An unreasonable annoyance, considering that I do realise that Americans actually call the stuff Canadian bacon, but here's the deal.

WE DON'T.

It's back bacon, ferwhomeversake. Or peameal bacon if it happens to be rolled in peameal and hasn't been smoked.

I don't know why references to Canadian bacon annoy me. Maybe because they're so often an easy bit of off-hand non-humour. Like adding eh to a sentence for no particular reason. Those wacky Canadians and their bacon, eh?

Or maybe it's because the same people who call back bacon Canadian bacon call processed cheese American cheese. To borrow a phrase from a certain comedian, what's the deal with that? Why would a country that produces some half-way decent cheeses choose to name the fake stuff after itself? To this particular fromageophile it makes no sense whatsoever.

Anyway. I wasn't intending to talk about cheese or bacon today, so see what you've made me do?

Erm... what exactly have you made me do, again? Oh yeah. You -- generic bacon-referencing you -- have made me forget what I really did want to talk about.

Anyway.

Oh, I said that already.

Well, all this baconitis has meant that you're not going to read whatever important words I thought I had to say today. Your loss, or not. Probably the latter, since I've got a slight bloodyneck headache to deal with that likely would have affected the outcome anyway.

Speaking of which, reasonably mobile today and completely unfloaty (read: no meds on me, ma). Yay me.

Going now.




Going ever so slightly loopy, apparently.





Blame the bacon.

Pointless photo of the day:

Hmm. That's weird.

What's weird?

Well, something behind the scenes that I'm a little confused about. 'Nuff said there, because I don't know exactly why it's weird so I can't really do anything about it.

Anyway, on to the non-post. The good news is that my neck's feeling better. The bad news is that it's feeling better because it's had some chemical help. Nothing serious -- just good ol' store-brand fake roba-something -- but if I sound a tiny bit floaty you'll know why.

And if you're saying to yourself that you didn't realise that my neck had been worse (a necessary condition for it to be feeling better, I'm sure you'll agree), don't worry. I just woke up semi-mobile this morning so there's no way you could have known about it unless you've sneaked a webcam into my room or something.

Which, by the way, I wouldn't recommend. I'm far too boring to monitor.

One of the more annoying things about having a chronic neck problem is that going to sleep can be a bit of a crap shoot. Sleep a little crookedly and you can find yourself only able to turn in one direction for a while.

Sometimes days.

That sucks.

It's not nearly that bad this time, though. You know, in case you were concerned or anything.

Oh, and before anyone decides to offer free medical advice... don't. It only annoys me. It's my neck, I've seen people, I know what it's about, and I deal with it.

And whinge about it.

Especially when I don't have anything better to whinge about, which I don't right now so this is what you're getting.

Or got, since I'm pretty much done now.

I should probably stop typing anyway and try to figure out the abovementioned weirdness.




Or, you know, not.

A little weirdness might not be such a bad thing around here...





And shut up, world. I do too know that it's already a little weird around here.

Annnnnd it's Sunday

The subject line about sums up all I know for sure lately.

Looking out the left side of the aircraft, however, you will see part of the reason/cause/source of sogginess that has helped good old Ontari-ari-ari-o (oh c'mon, you remember that stupid jingle) break so many precip records. Since records were first kept, in fact.

It is no wonder, then, that there aren't many garden photos from me this year. The rain has been so heavy that there have been puddles where puddles shouldn't be able to form, hence drowning things.

But once in a while the sun does come out, the humidity soars and I curse all Gods or, you know whomever, related to the weather.

And then. Well, then the dogs find the humidity so over-bearing that they seek out said puddles.



Now isn't that just one of the cutest pair of pups? And don't you just know they're going to be up to no good once they find out that's a big enough hole to roll in? Eh, yep.

Having just said all of the above, I'm off to take a muscle relaxant now for my back.


It's not easy giving a total of 165 pounds of dog a bath.

Good grief

Ok, I spent part of my lunch hour doodling sunflower petals (which probably makes more sense if I tell you that it was for Illustration Friday. Or maybe it doesn't make more sense. Who'm I to say?), part of my lunch hour answering a question about a horntail, part of my lunch hour uploading the aforementioned sunflower doodle (as opposed to uploading the horntail, which would be weird)... and now I really should be heading out on the trails to bother educate our visitors.

But I haven't had any lunch.

Well, I did have a bag of chips. Chips, however, ARE NOT LUNCH.

Maybe I can have lunch for supper instead. Yeah, that'd be good. By then I'll have a rip-roaring headache from not having had lunch...

Augh.

I have to get back to work. See if you can resolve this for me before bedtime, ok?




Ok then.

augh

Here. You have the earworm too. I shouldn't be the only one going bats.

That's it for the post, by the way. I've been up since godawful, my head hurts, and if I type any more letters it's going to sound suspiciously like the car alarm of whinges.

Going now.

By jingo.

I've got nothing

Well, I do have one thing. It's a very unhappy stomach, and I'm already rather regretting what little lunch I managed.

Ah well.

Let's have a musical moment in lieu of a post, then. Definitely much more entertaining than anything I would have come up with today.

Was going to say pointless ... but it's neither here nor there

And so here I sit with absolutely nothing (shut up) on my mind; that could primarily be that it took a bit of effort to shake my cellphone to get this photo from it on to the hard drive of the computer to upload it to ... oh, you get the drift.
The preceding paragraph was meant to be in English but since it turned out the way it did, I can wait a second while you go back and take another shot at making sense of it.

Okay, ready? And .... five, six, seven, eight ....

Thinking back, kids, you can put one and one together and figure out how this useless photo rounds out yesterday's bordering-on-the-insane rantings of the owner of this place.

All said with the appropriate amount of respect and affection. Yes, sir, the measured and appropriate amount.

The funny thing is that if you stare at the sky portion long enough, you can ever so faintly hear "manamanah ....." and swear a little green guy is skipping over the hill.
To those paying attention, yes, that was a mixed reference and if it caused you a sense of unease - well, my job here is done. Life ain't fair you know and the sooner you learn that ... oh, sorry. Forgot where I was for a moment.


Okay. Seriously? Neither of us uses any substance that makes us go wobbly - well, nothing illegal anyhow and this blog is still what you get. Yet you keep coming back. Hmm, yet we keep coming back.

Well isn't life funny sometimes.


As to the labels on the post, well I just wanted to set some kind of record today. I guess the Olympics are getting to me. They're going on now, right?

Oh, I really don't know

I've not put a whole lot of thought into blogging today, you see.

I know it's unusual, but that's just how it goes.

I had a few partial thoughts, I must admit. I had thought about discussing Muppets, but then my last Muppet-related post wasn't all that well received by the Toronto office. And since this place belongs to the Toronto office tomorrow (yes, I'm skipping out on my two fans for a day. I know you'll miss me, but just think of all our fond memories together and you'll be all right. [/bullfeathers]) I don't suppose I should annoy her with Muppet-related posts today.

Is it any better, do you think, if she can't actually see the Muppets?

No?

Well...

Oh, wait a minute. I think I have the answer, if I can only find...

There. Let's see her have any sort of problem with that Muppet.





Some things juuust get filed away for later, you know. Or possibly you don't know. I know, though, so that's all that really matters.

Everybody sing!

Sing!

And dance!




Anyway.

I'm away from the computer tomorrow, so if I haven't managed to completely annoy the Toronto office yet expect her to return to the blather after a somewhat prolonged absence. If I have managed to completely annoy the Toronto office... well, whatever.

Pointless photo of the day:

I've walked past these trees many times over the years, but it was only a few weeks ago that I noticed that they're twined around each other.

Weird, that. And weird use of that in that last paragraph. Ah well.

I guess it goes to show (the noticing, not the that) that I'm usually looking down (for flowers and spiders, yes) when I'm out on the trails.

That's it for today, by the way. My day started late and I really have nothing much to say anyway.




Bye, then.

Pointless photo of the day:

Look! It's a hollyhock! Again!

Yeah, yeah, I know. I just happen to like the veining on hollyhock petals, that's all.

This will be a non-post today for several reasons. One is that I ran off at the mouth... erm, fingers yesterday so if you haven't read that nonsense yet you may as well. Another is that I'm hungry because I got doing something rather silly this morning instead of making lunch before work like I should have. As a result, I'm more concerned with getting out and buying some food (for me and for the salamanders. We won't be eating the same things, though) than with blathering.

The third reason is that I really haven't bothered to think of anything to blather about.

So there you go. I hope you enjoy the hollyhock (I know I do) because that's about it for today.




And if you want to join me for lunch... it's not really necessary. I haven't exactly come apart yet, you see.

Character

I've been doing some desk work this morning, and it's my usual custom -- when I'm alone in the office, at least -- to have the internet radio on to keep the voices the internal monologue from getting too distracting.

Plus, I like to sing along.

Depending on the music, of course. I don't generally sing along with the string quartets when I'm in classical music mode.

Anyway.

Today, for whatever reason, I've had a Broadway channel on. They call this particular channel Wide Playlist, which (as you might expect) means it isn't restricted to a particular era, or a particular composer, or a particular genre of musical.

And here I bet you thought musical was a genre.

Well, it is.

But there are different types in the subset, you know.

Anyway.

It's going to be one of those posts, isn't it.

What I've been trying to get around to saying is that I've heard a pretty wide range of songs from a pretty wide range of musicals this morning, and it's caused me to come to a somewhat depressing conclusion.

We apparently don't like voices of character anymore.

It's been horribly easy to tell without even looking when a song has come from an original cast recording or from a revival. And that's not just because I recognise the voices of the original casts, since a lot of the stuff that's been playing isn't all that familiar to me. No, it's because the newer recordings (say in the past twenty years or so. Maybe even thirty) all seem to feature the same voice over and over again. Or maybe two: one male (light tenor, fruity to the point of being occasionally overripe) and one female (light soprano, singing earnestly with an unbearably girlish voice).

It's like casting directors have decided that the public will be put off by having an unfamiliar sound in their ears. Let's find another one who sounds just like the other ones, boys and girls.

Or maybe it's the vocal coaches' fault. Are we teaching our singers not to exploit their natural tones but instead to imitate their favourite nameless Broadway ingenue? I'm beginning to think so, unfortunately. People don't naturally all sound the same, and they shouldn't. The human voice is an amazing instrument and can be astoundingly rich and emotive. Can be. Maybe the sounds I'm hearing in these modern productions come off better live, but in recordings they could all be interchanged with each other and I wouldn't notice.

That bugs me a bit.

Bet you hadn't noticed.

Did you notice, though, how I typed nameless Broadway ingenue up there? That's telling, even though I wasn't really intending it to be. How many of you think we'll actually ever be able to put names to those cookie-cutter voices that we seem to favour onstage these days? I mean, I do realise that Broadway stars in general aren't terribly identifiable now compared to what they were in the 40s, 50s, or 60s (blame the demise of the television variety show, I figure. We don't have an Ed Sullivan to bring these people into our living rooms anymore, and the rare one-number full-cast appearance on Letterman isn't really going to make up for that), but even at that there'll occasionally be a song or two from the latest hit show that makes it onto the airwaves in some way or other.

Can you ever identify who's singing when you hear one of those songs?

Yeah, I thought so.

The earlier stars had marvellously full, rich, identifiable voices. Sure, they weren't always technically perfect (Ethel Merman certainly springs to mind. It was sometimes more blast than finesse with her), but the voices had character. Personality. And not always the type of personality that only made you say hey, that's Extremely Identifiable Big Star singing that part (yeah, Ethel Merman springs to mind there, too). There were plenty of performers who could make their voices fit their roles rather than making their roles fit their voices. But the voices stayed interesting.

I don't think that there are too many interesting voices out there now.

Sad, really.

And if I may point out one specific annoyance (I think I may, yes?), I'm really, really, tired of hearing the females sounding like GIRLS. Come on, ladies. Stop singing in those small, tight tones. Let yourself have at least a tiny bit of chest voice to give it some fullness. Stop whining. And for Whomever's sake, stop singing through your noses.

It's enough to make a person want to stick beans in her ears.

Oh, one more thing before I publish this novel. I said above (somewhere up there. I honestly didn't intend for this rant to go on so long) that it was easy to tell an original cast recording from a revival. There's an interesting exception to that, I've noticed, and it's the West End cast recordings of Broadway revivals. Could it be that over the pond they actually still prefer to employ singers that sound like something worth listening to?

Silly, backwards Brits.






Guess I've got to get myself over there someday.

Still tired. Less whingey though.

I dunno. Bachelor's Button week, maybe?

I don't have a lot on the brain at the moment, and mostly because I don't have a lot of brain. I was having trouble getting to sleep last night anyway since the apartment was so hot, but then we had that storm after midnight and... yeah. Definitely could use a nap right about now.

So, having said that, why don't I go for a walk instead of blathering? Sound like a plan?

Does to me, at any rate. See you later.





Oh, and the hair? Is loose again today.

Guess I would have lost that particular bet.

Pointless I'm kind of tired and whingey and this isn't going to be much of a post of the day:

Is it bad when you've pretty much put your entire post in the post title?

No reason for the tired and whingey, by the way. Just generally tired and whingey, that's all.

I tend to get that way in August. We've had three months of the summer interpretive season, and I still have a month before I'm done with full-time work. It's sort of a weird, blah limbo.

I also got my weird, blah hair cut yesterday.





How's that for a segue? That's segue, not segway. Segway would be something different and slightly nerdy.

Hmmm.

Maybe I did mean segway...

Um, anyway. Yeah, I gave the hair its yearly going away party yesterday. For those new to the program, I have a tendency to get my hair cut once a year and then just let it grow. It grows very quickly (and is very fine... sigh), so it's kind of a pain to try to maintain an actual style. Instead, I have a hairstyle for the month or so after I get it cut, and then after that I just pin it back and forget about it until it gets long enough to be annoying.

Usually about a year later.

The trigger this time around (besides having to continually unwind hair strands from the vacuum's power brush) was finding that I was getting my own hair tucked into my armpits whenever I was lifting or moving something.

Kind of aggravating, yes.

So, the hair went away. It's now a little longer than chin-length (or just above my collar, if you'd rather measure from that direction), it's in my face, and it's DRIVING ME BANANAS.

Erm, yeah.

I have this mind game I play with myself after a haircut, you see. I make myself wear my hair loose for at least a day before I go back to the hair clips and bands. When one actually has a hairstyle, one should show it off. No?

Well, in my case no should be the right answer. I hate having to constantly brush hair out of my face. I find it massively distracting, and I don't need extra distractions in my life.

I'd be willing to bet that the hair will be properly restrained again by tomorrow.

And with that, I and my annoying hair should get back to work. The hair has to earn its keep, after all.

Off I go, then.





No comments from the Peanut Gallery, Toronto office.

My eyes! My eyes!

Sorry, but I don't have a photo of eyes on my nerdstick at the moment. Have a Northern Pearl Crescent instead.

And just so that you know, this isn't going to be one of those posts in which Yours Blatheringly whines on yet again that she doesn't like her eyes. I don't, but that's not the point of the pointlessness this time.

What this is instead is a WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING to those of you out there (yes, you) who choose blog skins/templates/whatever with black backgrounds and white printing.

I was reading a fairly interesting blog just now... well, trying to read it, anyway. I didn't get too far before my eyes started begging me to stab them with a pencil instead. Apparently they thought it might be a tad less painful.

For those of you who don't have the joy of astigmatism, let me just say that white-on-black printing HURTS. It tends to spread, and that makes a person's already effed-up eyes go into overload trying to focus the distorted letters. I can't manage much time on a white-on-black page before I start getting a headache (and I really, really need more headaches in my life), and since I know that I'm not the only astigmatic person out there trying to read web pages I can only assume that those of you who choose that particular colour scheme are actually trying to get rid of a good chunk of your potential audience.

Erm, so there.

That got a bit rantier than I was planning. Sorry about that.

Anyway, that's it from me and my eyes today. I'm working late tonight at a different site, and I've got things to do before I head out there.





And I hope that by the time I'm ready to get in the car my eyes will stop giving me the good ol' white-on-black-website afterimage.








What the hell are you thinking, people?

Pointless non-personal photo of the day:

I was going to post something fairly personal today (not a photo, despite what the post title says), but I've changed my mind. You're left with a rather moody-looking begonia to admire instead.

I'm not especially moody myself at the moment, if you wondered. I just have a bit of a headache because the neck is apparently having some trouble sorting itself out. It's never a good thing when turning your head sounds like an ad for breakfast cereal.

Anyway, personal stuff. I'm never all that happy with myself when I find myself thinking of posting personal things to the blog. I know that the blog might be a tad more interesting if I did (or maybe not. I don't have an especially interesting life, and I think that's a good thing for my mental health), but I've never been comfortable with the idea of the internet as a big, non-private diary. You know as much about me as I want you to know, and I think we should both be happy with that.

What brought on this line of thought in the first place was the accidental rediscovery of some things I'd put away in my grandfather's old music case. My father had been looking for a small briefcase to use for some files he has to haul around. I knew I had a couple of old ones stored in my closet here at his house, and when I picked up my grandfather's music case (just to move it, in case you wondered. I wasn't going to give it to my father since -- as you should have been able to tell by the way I typed my grandfather's old music case -- it's a bit of a keepsake. Even if I never actually knew my grandfather, yes) I was surprised to find it full.

I'd forgotten that I'd put my university choir keepsakes in it, you see.

Well, that naturally led to a real trip down memory lane, including a flip through the concert programs that we used to hand around the tour bus and sign like yearbooks for each other.

I wonder if they still do that?

Not to get into details since I changed my mind about that part, but it's interesting to look back at how people saw me then. The generic "have a great summer" responses from the first tour where no one outside of my own section really knew who I was, the many references to cat's cradle (what can I say? No such thing as mp3 players back then, boys and girls. We had to do something on the bus), and the more specific anecdotes from later tours when we'd become old pros.

And were, no doubt, signing the newbies' programs with "have a great summer".

On the slightly less generic side, it seems that outside of my circle of friends (who were much more... in-joke when they signed the programs. And shut up, world. I did too have friends) I was known in the choir for having all the words to the songs memorised (I didn't like to hold a heavy music folder for an entire concert), smiling when I sang, and having a dry/sarcastic sense of humour.

Hmmm.

About that last one: who'da thunk?

If you're curious as to where the personal stuff comes into all of this good-natured remember whenning, well... that's the part that I've decided isn't going to make the blog. Something pretty life-changing happened on one of those tours, and a very small written comment -- hardly noticeable -- reminded me of it, that's all.

And really, the internet doesn't need to be flipping trough my old concert programs.





You're welcome.

And this is the way the world ends

If the post title has sent you straight to T.S Eliot... well, sorry. It was just the first phase that came to mind, that's all. And for those who have absolutely no idea what I mean right now, go and have a read of this. Remember to come back here afterwards, though.

Done?

Ok, now forget about it because it has absolutely nothing to do with today's blather.

What the blather does have to do with is the fact that I did something the other day that I would normally never do. I stepped outside of my comfort zone by becoming a little less invisible than I usually like to be.

I submitted a doodle to Illustration Friday.

I know, no big deal. Hundreds of people submit links to that site every week. And it's not like I stood up and signed my name to the thing. I used my regular nom-de-internet to hide behind, as you might expect. Why should a semi-anonymous submission to a very busy website be throwing me for a loop like it is?

Well, for one thing it's very unlike me to want anyone to notice my doodles. My doodles are just that. Doodles. For me. I have no intention of ever going any farther with them, and I generally don't share them beyond putting them on a seldom-visited blog that I use as my general artsy dumping ground.

Hell, I don't even sign the things. The little swirly squiggle you see (if you bother to look, which... whatever. Look if you want to. It seriously doesn't much matter to me) is just my initials. That's all I've ever felt like putting on a doodle.

I'm such a slave for attention, you know.

In fact (to take a slight side-jaunt here), I'm extremely uncomfortable that they chose to put my name on some interpretive panels I did that are on show at work for the next little while. Those were meant to be a nature centre display, not a silly doodles by Yours Blatheringly display. Augh. The whole thing makes me cringe.

Anyway.

The other reason this whole Illustration Friday thing has set me off is that people actually came to look at my doodle. Lots of people. Some of them even took the time to comment (which... thanks.). And...

I liked it.

I liked the fact that other people came to see what I did, even if it was only for a few seconds.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

I can't even begin to explain how much not-me that reaction is. I like being off to the side. Even during all the years of perform and competing I was thrilled to have the lines or the character or even just the music to hide behind. I never, never, never look to be the one on the pedestal.

Sigh.

What next, do you think? Will I actually sign a sketch? Will I call it a sketch rather than a doodle? Will I submit another link to Illustration Friday?

Well, to that last one at least I can say: probably. It was fun. And really, it's not like it's the end of the world to be ever-so-slightly noticed once in a while.







Or is it?
*cue Twilight Zone music*

See yesterday

Yeah, no blather again today.

I've got to get back to writing the stuff that I actually get paid for.

Later, then.

Pointless something something something

Or maybe just the one something, since there isn't going to be much pointlessness today.

Or much of a post.

I got busy with something else, I'm afraid.

I did put something new on the old blog this morning, though, if you're looking for something to... well, look at...

Weird eyes

I've come to the conclusion that I have weird eyes.

Ok, maybe the eyes themselves aren't so weird. They're very myopic and an indescribable colour (the closest I can come is swampwater green, but that doesn't really give the idea), but they're pretty much just run-of-the-mill eyes otherwise.

It's more the eye-brain connection that isn't quite right.

As in, I think that maybe I see -- or at least process the things I see -- oddly.

Differently.

I mean, I'm sure every person out there sees things differently from every other person. We're all using different equipment. There's no way we should all be getting the exact same picture.

But...

I take pleasure in things that I don't think a lot of people would. Patterns, shapes... I can find myself fascinated by the way the seeds are packed into a sunflower head, for example (and yes, you'll probably be seeing plenty of pointless sunflower photos in the next while). I like the way a dying leaf twists as it starts to dry up. I like spiders.

Yeah, you already knew that. But (as, admittedly, I've said before) it's almost more for their shapes than anything else. The shapes in a spider make my eyes happy.

YES, IT'S WEIRD.

I know that it's weird.

I don't think I can help it, though.

Take today's pointless photo... which was, in fact, taken today. I was out in the sanctuary and happened to notice a dragonfly's wing lying on a viewing deck. As to the dragonfly itself, I expect that it probably became dinner for one of the birds out there. It's certainly not flying around with only three wings.

Anyway.

My first thought when I saw the wing? That'd make a neat picture. The shininess of the wing on the rough wood, the branching veins, the elegant structure, the fact that this thin, delicate membrane was able to keep an animal in the air...





I think I may have some sort of problem.

Of course, my two fans have probably known this for some time.

Was anyone ever planning to tell me?




Ah well. Not much I can do to fix it at this point. Mumblemumble years of seeing weirdly create a fairly unalterable habit.

And speaking of habits...

No, I don't know why today's pointless photo is centred. Sometimes I do that to make a point or draw attention to something, but today I think I just wasn't paying attention.

Ah well.

And yes, I know I've already said that.