(no subject)
Got the Doctor Who Series 3 soundtrack in the mail today. Which is pretty darn quick for having it shipped from the UK. I listened to it already and it's very good - you can tell that Murray Gold is really benefiting from having a full orchestra at his disposal. "Martha's Theme" is, of course, wonderful. The tracks from "Human Nature"/"The Family of Blood" have some heartbreaking moments (and I agree with Gold, the whistling is a great touch), and "The Master Tape" will honestly freak you out.
I should like to build my own playlist by combining it with the first soundtrack. Because all the wonderfullness must be capped at either end with the theme music.
When I went to rip it, Windows Media Player had no idea what it was, though iTunes did. But iTunes doesn't let you rip in any format but their own, which doesn't play on anything but an iPod. So I ended up just entering all the info manually. I mean, yes, Apple makes some pretty darn cool stuff, but can't they give us users just a little bit more interoperability?
Bought shoes. Pretty much just like the brown mules I already had, but with more of a heel, and, of course, not falling to pieces. What does it say if I always wear down the outside of the left heel the most?
Am reading A Severe Mercy. Just got to the bit where the author met C.S. Lewis for the first time. Y'know, the more I learn about that man, the more I love him.
I had never so much as seen a photograph of him, and in reading his books and letters I had vaguely pictured him as slender, perhaps somewhat emaciated, and slightly stooped with a lean, near-sighted face. What I met, when I turned up at his rooms, was John Bull himself. Portly, jolly, a wonderful grin, a big voice, a quizzical gaze--and no nonsense. He was as simple and unaffected as a man could be, yet never was there a man who could so swiftly cut through anything that even approached fuzzy thinking. Withal, the most friendly, the most genial of companions.
...I therefore saw and heard, both at table and at the semicircle by the fire in the common room as the port went round, the Lewis who, in brilliance, in wit, and in incisiveness, could hold his own with any man who ever lived.
(Chapter V: "Thou Art the King of Glory")
I've met any number of brilliant people in my life, but the best ones are always the ones who seem to have misplaced their ego. Lewis seems to have been among him: everything I've ever read of his is shot through with such humility, such unassuming disregard for his own brilliance.
Case in point: when the choir I sing with has to split up for practice, or when Z isn't about, we are usually directed by a certain Stan. Now, Stan is a veteran of the local classical scene, having directed (and still directing) various city choirs, getting himself involved in all kinds of productions, and travelling to be involved in stuff all over the country. He's got a lot of experience. Which is a good thing. But does he have to bring it up every time I talk to him? I mean, okay Stan, you know John Rutter personally, that's great. Quit dropping his name. And when he directs the choir, he never admits he's wrong (okay, I confess, I'm one who points such things out), and he has a way of saying things that feels like he's talking down to us. Now, I may not have the experience and talent he does, but I'm sure other people in the choir do.
Z, on the other hand, has no ego. Granted, this may be because he has a tendency to make hilarious gaffes in the middle of rehearsal ("Now, the syllable is "f - u"), but for a man who heads a university music department, has a doctorate in conducting, and who studied under (and is good friends with) Dr Eph Ehly (who is, frankly, amazing), he is refreshingly humble. You always get the idea that he feels priveledged to be up on the director's podium, and while he expects us to follow him, it's in more of a "we're doing something awesome together!" sort of way. I believe it's this very humility, when combined with his brilliance, that makes him someone that his choir would follow to the ends of the earth.
It's something I struggle with. To let the ego die and rather revel in other people, other things, to not care whether I'm first or last or ahead or behind, but to be more interested in the business of life and eternity alone... To let it all burn off and drop away... man would that be freedom.
I should like to build my own playlist by combining it with the first soundtrack. Because all the wonderfullness must be capped at either end with the theme music.
When I went to rip it, Windows Media Player had no idea what it was, though iTunes did. But iTunes doesn't let you rip in any format but their own, which doesn't play on anything but an iPod. So I ended up just entering all the info manually. I mean, yes, Apple makes some pretty darn cool stuff, but can't they give us users just a little bit more interoperability?
Bought shoes. Pretty much just like the brown mules I already had, but with more of a heel, and, of course, not falling to pieces. What does it say if I always wear down the outside of the left heel the most?
Am reading A Severe Mercy. Just got to the bit where the author met C.S. Lewis for the first time. Y'know, the more I learn about that man, the more I love him.
I had never so much as seen a photograph of him, and in reading his books and letters I had vaguely pictured him as slender, perhaps somewhat emaciated, and slightly stooped with a lean, near-sighted face. What I met, when I turned up at his rooms, was John Bull himself. Portly, jolly, a wonderful grin, a big voice, a quizzical gaze--and no nonsense. He was as simple and unaffected as a man could be, yet never was there a man who could so swiftly cut through anything that even approached fuzzy thinking. Withal, the most friendly, the most genial of companions.
...I therefore saw and heard, both at table and at the semicircle by the fire in the common room as the port went round, the Lewis who, in brilliance, in wit, and in incisiveness, could hold his own with any man who ever lived.
(Chapter V: "Thou Art the King of Glory")
I've met any number of brilliant people in my life, but the best ones are always the ones who seem to have misplaced their ego. Lewis seems to have been among him: everything I've ever read of his is shot through with such humility, such unassuming disregard for his own brilliance.
Case in point: when the choir I sing with has to split up for practice, or when Z isn't about, we are usually directed by a certain Stan. Now, Stan is a veteran of the local classical scene, having directed (and still directing) various city choirs, getting himself involved in all kinds of productions, and travelling to be involved in stuff all over the country. He's got a lot of experience. Which is a good thing. But does he have to bring it up every time I talk to him? I mean, okay Stan, you know John Rutter personally, that's great. Quit dropping his name. And when he directs the choir, he never admits he's wrong (okay, I confess, I'm one who points such things out), and he has a way of saying things that feels like he's talking down to us. Now, I may not have the experience and talent he does, but I'm sure other people in the choir do.
Z, on the other hand, has no ego. Granted, this may be because he has a tendency to make hilarious gaffes in the middle of rehearsal ("Now, the syllable is "f - u"), but for a man who heads a university music department, has a doctorate in conducting, and who studied under (and is good friends with) Dr Eph Ehly (who is, frankly, amazing), he is refreshingly humble. You always get the idea that he feels priveledged to be up on the director's podium, and while he expects us to follow him, it's in more of a "we're doing something awesome together!" sort of way. I believe it's this very humility, when combined with his brilliance, that makes him someone that his choir would follow to the ends of the earth.
It's something I struggle with. To let the ego die and rather revel in other people, other things, to not care whether I'm first or last or ahead or behind, but to be more interested in the business of life and eternity alone... To let it all burn off and drop away... man would that be freedom.