Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey... Stuff

It's safe to say that May kind of got away from me. That's okay, though, because once I build my TARDIS I can just go back and write posts closer to the days that I actually think of these topics and you'll all be none the wiser... except then I'll have to erase this post.

Gosh, time travel is so confusing!

Any excuse for a Doctor Who clip

This won't be a coherent post, but I wanted to get a few thoughts down while they were still relatively fresh in my mind. Random? Yes. Important? Probably not. Going to talk about them anyway? Hells ya!

There has been lots going on in my life at the moment. Biggest change? I got a new job. I'm still with the organisation but a new higher-up position. As my brother said when I told him my new title, "you've got 'co-ordinator' in there. Nice!" It's handy when your family are also bureaucrats, they get what titles mean.

Being honest, I love the bathrooms on my new floor!

After my pub board game night with 106 and T, 106 found a Monday night board game meet up here in Victoria. We've been twice and it's awesome! He even bought one of our favourite games from this past Monday and I pretty much had to physically restrain myself from just inviting myself over to play it. It's called Guillotine and it's super simple, super quick, and super hilarious. Also, board games rock. I just wish they weren't so freakin' expensive.

Euro 2012 starts on Friday. That might not mean much to most of you, but it's huge for me. It's the first time in 24 years that Ireland has made it to the Euro. (In fairness, it's only held every four years. It's not like they've missed it 24 years in a row.) The last time Ireland went (which was also the first time, we're a young soccer nation) this happened:

It was kind of a big deal for us. They even wrote songs about it. Never ones to let a moment pass without signing about it, there's an official Ireland song for Euro 2012 as well.

(Snarky me adds a 'unless you score with a handball' at the end.

Yeah, I'm still bitter. Stupid France.)

Speaking of Ireland vs. England, people were chatting in the lunch room today about the Queen's Jubilee when one of them turned to me and seriously asked "you're Irish. Are you excited about the celebrations? Is your family doing anything special?" I was slightly dumbfounded at the question so I just said 'no' and left the room.

I don't have anything against the English, and good on the Queen for sticking in there, but Irish people aren't exactly known for our love of England or the monarchy. In fact, we're kind of known for disliking them. We fought a war of independence over it. The resulting separation of the island of Ireland made a few of the papers. So did the ensuing Troubles. While I don't expect this non-Irish coworker to be able to list names and dates from the last 100 years of Irish history, I would expect that somewhere in her brain would be the understanding that Ireland won't be celebrating this Jubilee. Or any Royal Jubilee.

I'll have to remember to ask her what she's doing for American Independence Day in July.

I have made no secret of my love for Phil Plait, aka The Bad Astronomer. If you love science, you should check out his quote turned into awesome graphics by Zen Pencils. It gives me chills reading it. If you want to get me something nice just because, I'll take a print of that comic. Thanks.

I had a crush on a guy in high school who I always thought was way too cool for me - it was the classic nerd-girl-likes-jock-a-year-older-than-her crush. While I thought I always played it cool, I'm sure he knew. How could he not when I just randomly always seemed to be hanging out in the hall near his locker? Or sitting by the field when he was practicing soccer? He was nicer than some of the crushes I had and politely tolerated me but we had nothing in common. Nothing! Except we both liked 'Ocean Pearl' by 54-40.
While I liked the song, crush-boy loved it. He had all of 54-40's albums, he went to a few of their concerts, and he talked about wanting to meet the band.

This song still gets me dancing.

My crush ended suddenly one day. His friend made fun of him for his geeky hanger-on and his previously tolerant demeanour changed. In front of all his friends, he made me feel about two inches tall. I was devastated.

Skip forward 18 years to this past weekend. My friends, Justin and Ian, played Friday and Saturday night with their recently acquired drummer, Matt Johnson. As in, Matt Johnson of 54-40. It wasn't my first time meeting Matt, but it was the first time we had a conversation between us without Justin or Ian instigating it. Despite friends with him both nights, he made a point of coming over and say 'hello' and asking how I was doing.

As I nursed a hangover of epic proportions on Sunday (more from lack of sleep than the four beers the night before), I thought of that high school crush for the first time in more than a decade. Man, did I ever wish I could tell 14 year old me that some day one of my crush's hero would laugh at my jokes. That would have stopped a few of those tears.

CMC: Carolling

This is part of my Christmas Memory Challenge, a goal I set for myself to recall 25 things I love about Christmas. You can also check out Shannon's memories here.
Once a holiday season, my dad would bundle us all up and take us around the neighbourhood for a round of carolling. We lived in a semi-rural area with lots of small farms or very large lots so we knew pretty much everyone within walking distance from our house. Occasionally, we'd hook Rowdy the donkey up to the trap* and use him to get from house to house.

We'd always sing two songs: one my dad would chose as we walked up the driveway, and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. We probably sounded more akin to a group of drunken frat boys than those professional carolling groups that roam the malls each Christmas, but it was always a fun night out and the recipients always had smiles on their faces (if they weren't joining in with the singing).

Over the years, the area around us became fairly developed and many of our neighbours moved away, looking for the semi-rural life they were used to, while my brothers and I got older. Wasn't high school hard enough without being that uncool kid who went carolling with his or her parents? Now my dad just waits until we're all together and makes us sing to the neighbours over the phone.

Hmm, some thing's a little lost in the updated tradition.

*type of carriage, not some cruel animal-killing device

At Least Bow Ties Are Still Cool*

I had that moment.

You know, that moment when you realise exactly how old you are.

I’m not deluding myself and thinking that I’m still some young spring chicken who can party until 4am, sleep for three hours and still get up for work at 8am (um, not that I ever did that, any former employers who may be reading this), but I don’t think of 31 as old. Older, yes. But not old.

Then I attended an Alumni Band practice on Thursday night.

There were slim pickings in the Alto Sax section: me, Mike and a quiet girl who answered every question I threw at her but didn’t say much in general. (My apologies; out of all the questions I asked her, I forgot to ask her name.)

She had graduated just the previous June. I did a quick mental calculation in my head: grad’ed when she was 18 in 2011... she was born in 1993. I started high school that year.

This was my grade eight school bus.

We continue to make small talk as we sight-read the first Alto Sax music. Mike and I tell her our grad years (1996 and 1998 respectively) to which she just says ‘wow’.  As the night wears on (and I wear her down) she opens up a bit more and comments on a few of the pieces we’re playing.

Eventually we come to a medley that most of us have been itching to play because it’s a piece of music Mr. Wilson got years ago for a fun audience interactive piece. It contains a couple of dance songs from the late 80’s and early 90’s as well as Y.M.C.A. As Mike said, it was like being at a high school dance all over again.

Yes, I'm talking about this Y.M.C.A. song.

As we wait to begin the piece, the girl leans over and points to a section of the piece that has words we’re supposed to say.

“What song is that?”

I read the words exactly as they show on the page.

“Whoomp! There it is.”

Her face is completely blank as she looks at me.

“Whoomp! There it is,” I repeat, this time saying it as it’s said in the chorus of the song.

She blinks. I feel like the Danny Butterman character in Hot Fuzz: “You’ve never seen Bad Boys II?”

“Don’t you know ‘Whoomp! There it is’?”

She shakes her head.

“You don’t know ‘Whoomp! There it is’?” I am in complete disbelief that someone younger than me doesn’t know this song and before I know what I’m doing, I’m rapping the whole first verse to this girl who was born the year the song came out.

I get to the repetitive chorus and look at her, hoping for some sign of recognition. All I get is a giggle.

“I’ve never heard it but your rapping is good...” her voice trails off and she giggles again.

And that, my friends, is what getting old feels like.

*sigh*

I guess I'll just have to take it back to old school cuz I'm an old fool who's so cool.

*That's a Doctor Who reference in the title. You know, just so we all know exactly how cool I am.

A Long Time Ago, A Million Years BC...

Seventeen years ago today, Dennis Potter passed away.

Who? You're probably asking.

The man who taught me that song and dance routines are always appropriate.

I wasn't older than eight (possibly even younger) when I first say Potter's Pennies from Heaven six part series and I thought it was magical. I was too young to understand the dark (depressing) storyline of an affair, the resulting baby, the abortion, the fall into prostitution, and the accusations of rape and murder (in short, I got very little from the storyline beyond Arthur was a married travelling sheet music salesman in 1930's England) but I was drawn to the upbeat and cheerful 1930's dance numbers which punctuated the grim backdrop.

Unlike traditional musicals, the numbers in Pennies from Heaven didn't served to move the plot forward but to give an insight to what the character was thinking at that moment; you could remove every song and you'd still have a complete story (albeit even more depressing). The actors would lip sync to original 1930's recordings while dancing around a set only to end up in the same position they started in, as if the number had never happened. I was enthralled; I could do that in my own life!

I was never captured by Dennis Potter's later works the way I was with Pennies from Heaven (which may be the result of the creepy scarecrow in The Singing Detective which still gives me slight moments of panic 20 years later) but the fun burst out in a song that fits my mood and thoughts is a habit I have taken forward into adulthood. So thank you for that, Mr. Potter. And thank you for teaching me to never trust a travelling sheet music salesman.

And also for teaching me that love is good for anything that ails you.