three random things
Prompts from 
marginaliana:
scissors: Because I was moderately serious about bookbinding and other papercrafts around twenty years ago, I believe that slicing paper with a fresh Exacto blade against a metal edge typically results in a cleaner, straighter edge than cutting with scissors. But I hold even stronger opinions about getting on with things and getting them done rather than procrastinating in the name of perfection (aka "perfect is the enemy of done"), and also about staying within budget, and also about getting enough sleep when my hamster-wheel brain will let me, so my m.o. is far more often to reach for the nearest tool. Which is sometimes the pair of embroidery scissors I inherited from the BYM's Aunt Louise:
Said m.o. is also why you're not also getting a snapshot of the gray-handled ergonomic scissors I acquired from some rubber-stamping outfit in the mid-1990s. I don't think it was from the late Curtis Uyeda, from whom I ordered two Japan-inspired images that I will bring myself to mount and use someday. (Yes, I realize what I just said. I contain multitudes, y'all.)
ear: it has been a source of vexation throughout my life that I am pants at discerning intervals, since that's how one tunes a viola, it's a key part of music theory labs, and I'd really like to lock into the harmonies of Foster the People's "Houdini." I joke about being linear to a fault, but it's also true that I used to test my tuning of said viola not by listening for fifths but by softly plunking the scale between the two notes.
And yet, I do know about to sing in tune, within chords and while sight-reading my way through weird-ass contemporary pieces where said knowledge of music theory becomes one's compass, and I can recognize when other performers are off by a hair or a mile. So I'm not dead hopeless about intervals, and in fact better than the average schmoe, especially when reacting to Voice France episodes. (I am reminded of Mika bellowing "Are you fucking deaf?" at his fellow Italian X Factor judges . . .) I supposed it's like my limited facility with foreign languages -- I'm terrible at accents myself, but I sure can hear when someone doesn't yet have a handle on Mandarin tones.
prestidigitation: I had a lightbulb moment earlier this year that was so shiny that I sent this email to a friend at 2 a.m.:
I'm annoyed as hell about having to work on Sublimations through the night, but in typing a note to the graphic designer, I suddenly realized the origin of the word legerdemain. Apparently I am easily cheered up.
Want to play? Hit "reply" to request your three words.
This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/417486.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.
marginaliana:
scissors: Because I was moderately serious about bookbinding and other papercrafts around twenty years ago, I believe that slicing paper with a fresh Exacto blade against a metal edge typically results in a cleaner, straighter edge than cutting with scissors. But I hold even stronger opinions about getting on with things and getting them done rather than procrastinating in the name of perfection (aka "perfect is the enemy of done"), and also about staying within budget, and also about getting enough sleep when my hamster-wheel brain will let me, so my m.o. is far more often to reach for the nearest tool. Which is sometimes the pair of embroidery scissors I inherited from the BYM's Aunt Louise:
Said m.o. is also why you're not also getting a snapshot of the gray-handled ergonomic scissors I acquired from some rubber-stamping outfit in the mid-1990s. I don't think it was from the late Curtis Uyeda, from whom I ordered two Japan-inspired images that I will bring myself to mount and use someday. (Yes, I realize what I just said. I contain multitudes, y'all.)
ear: it has been a source of vexation throughout my life that I am pants at discerning intervals, since that's how one tunes a viola, it's a key part of music theory labs, and I'd really like to lock into the harmonies of Foster the People's "Houdini." I joke about being linear to a fault, but it's also true that I used to test my tuning of said viola not by listening for fifths but by softly plunking the scale between the two notes.
And yet, I do know about to sing in tune, within chords and while sight-reading my way through weird-ass contemporary pieces where said knowledge of music theory becomes one's compass, and I can recognize when other performers are off by a hair or a mile. So I'm not dead hopeless about intervals, and in fact better than the average schmoe, especially when reacting to Voice France episodes. (I am reminded of Mika bellowing "Are you fucking deaf?" at his fellow Italian X Factor judges . . .) I supposed it's like my limited facility with foreign languages -- I'm terrible at accents myself, but I sure can hear when someone doesn't yet have a handle on Mandarin tones.
prestidigitation: I had a lightbulb moment earlier this year that was so shiny that I sent this email to a friend at 2 a.m.:
I'm annoyed as hell about having to work on Sublimations through the night, but in typing a note to the graphic designer, I suddenly realized the origin of the word legerdemain. Apparently I am easily cheered up.
Want to play? Hit "reply" to request your three words.
This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/417486.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.