Feb 02, 2008 21:22
Mmm bananas and custard. Tasty.
So apparently The Stone Key by Isobelle Carmody was released today, or on Friday, or some day which wasn't the 4th of February like it was supposed to be. Needless to say, I now sit here book-less whining about the horribility of the situation because a) I don't have a copy, b) I don't have enough money to buy a copy tomorrow and c) I've been waiting EIGHT blasted years to get the blasted book. Guh. Freaking everything.
I had my first piano lesson of the year today. It kind of appalls me just how little my teacher actually teaches me. Anyway, got started on a list A piece by a relatively random German composer from the Romantic period. It was okay. But now I already have the part I was supposed to work on for the next two weeks memorised. I blame aural and its "oh hey, aural is teaching you how to remember lots of information easily" stuff. I mean, sure that's a good thing, but God it's boring. Also, it comes to my attention that I've never played a piece by an Italian composer. NEVER. This kind of worries me, because my piano repetoire is basically just German composers ( + Liszt). Ugh I am terribly un-well-rounded. It's not really going to change with sixth grade either, because my choices would be: List A - Gurlitt, List B - Haydn, List C - Schumann, List D - Ravel or Grainger, Extra list - Schubert and Handel. Not an Italian to be seen.
Gnah. This year I have to arrange my application for honours and get some one to aggree to be my supervisor. BUT WHO TO ASK. I technically have a lot of awesome lecturers to ask, but I'd like them to know just how many paranoid "I think it's right but could you just read this paragraph through to make sure"-style rantings about my thesis they will get per week. Okay, who am I kidding, per day. I feel I should send out some sort of questionaire asking what their tolerance levels with mad obsessive and paranoid students are, but I think that would just make me sound more weird. Because I totally need help with that. *cough*. Sigh.
eight freaking years man,
the stone key,
ugh,
honours,
lack of italians