phew. after that little rant, to be honest didn't know what to write here. I've never had a blog so it's a little bit weird! I've never been a journal writing type - I'm more the type that buys pretty journals and will write in them for about a week and lose interest only to let another pretty journal fall victim to the dusty mess of my bedroom floor. That's not to say that expressing thoughts and feelings is a difficulty for me. If you ask any of my friends they will tell you more often then not that I actually need to sensor what comes out of my mouth more and that I am in fact the worst liar of all time. That being said, writing my thoughts out is an entirely new challenge.
So I suppose an introduction is in order. My name is Angela. I looked it up in a baby book when I was little and it means Messenger of God, so in essence, Angel. My middle name is Catherine and that means pure. Clearly my parents had some sort of theme going here.... I grew up in between two small towns in midwestern Ontario - Wingham & Lucknow. And by small, I mean really small. I'm talking 1000 people in Lucknow and 4000 in Wingham, not to mention the closest city is an hour and a half away. I lived on a pig farm (my Dad stopped farming when I was about 7) with my Mom & Dad, brother and two older sisters. For now I'll gloss over those details because now I live on my own far, far away from my small town existence in the city of Toronto and THAT my friends is what this is all about.
That's all for now. More later. ciao
Monday, July 27, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
the day i found my glasses
The day I found my glasses I realized that I'd been seeing it all wrong. I'm not a clutz, I always have my keys, I never bite my nails, I don't overplan, I'm laid back and most of all I'm never late. For years I allowed myself to believe in these facts as if they were set in stone. I truly believed that I was destined to lose my cell phone no matter how hard I tried and the Ipod that my roommates bought me for Christmas would most certainly fall victim to my carelessness, left behind on a streetcar, or subway or various form of Toronto transit. The fact is, those facts are absolutely not facts and have nothing to do with who I am.
My name is Angela and I'm 52 days clean. Biting my nails was a tough habit to kick but with the help of my own home remedy (keeping my nails immaculately painted and filed at all times) I've managed to hold back the uncontrollable urge to devour my nails the second the paint chips or I've cracked a nail. The fact is when people mention my nails, or my nail color I never mention biting my nails or having short nails because it is no longer a part of me. I have long nails and it's as simple as that - I don't need to wait around for someone to tell me I've graduated or something.
The point I'm trying to make here is that all of those little things are not me. Every year, every week, every day - every MOMENT I change a little bit and instead of holding onto the way I was before I'm deciding to be who I am now. That's what this is about and that is what this blog is about. Life and whatever is happening as I see it NOW. According to who I am NOW, not yesterday or last summer, or 5 years ago. This is life through my prescription glasses (which I am wearing now.
FIRST OFF.....my friend Miss Yu has been bugging me to discuss the merits of Diana Krall's latest disc. I've actually been sorta dying to write about this for a while because it is sometime I'm mildly passionate about. You see for the longest time I was very loyal to Diana Krall and refused to judge her music because she was a pop/jazz success (this is a point where I should also mention my line of work - I'm a student studying jazz voice at U of T). So I stayed loyal all those years, mostly because she was my first exposure to jazz, I really kept an open mind. Now when I tossed her new CD Quiet Nights on at my parents home in Bruce County (I'll describe that another time) I was absolutely let down. It was bland. Bland, bland, bland. Like that white Wonderbread our mom's all buy because it's cheaper but now it has extra nutrients added so its not so bad. Bland.
When I listened to it I really just wanted her to stop singing and play piano because, to be fair, I really don't mind her piano playing. What bothered me most was how appalling her vocal technique was and above everything how she played into every single generalizing trait that jazz singer's are plagued with - the soft, dark and sultry voice that sounds like you knocked back a few shots of Jack Daniels and smoked a package of cigarettes.
I just couldn't listen to it. Where's the body in her voice, the soul? I mean half the songs just sounded like she didn't care. Now, to be fair when she swings, that girl can swing and it's great. However on this album I just wasn't feeling it. Too bad. I like her otherwise - guess I'll just have to wait and hear the next one.
My name is Angela and I'm 52 days clean. Biting my nails was a tough habit to kick but with the help of my own home remedy (keeping my nails immaculately painted and filed at all times) I've managed to hold back the uncontrollable urge to devour my nails the second the paint chips or I've cracked a nail. The fact is when people mention my nails, or my nail color I never mention biting my nails or having short nails because it is no longer a part of me. I have long nails and it's as simple as that - I don't need to wait around for someone to tell me I've graduated or something.
The point I'm trying to make here is that all of those little things are not me. Every year, every week, every day - every MOMENT I change a little bit and instead of holding onto the way I was before I'm deciding to be who I am now. That's what this is about and that is what this blog is about. Life and whatever is happening as I see it NOW. According to who I am NOW, not yesterday or last summer, or 5 years ago. This is life through my prescription glasses (which I am wearing now.
FIRST OFF.....my friend Miss Yu has been bugging me to discuss the merits of Diana Krall's latest disc. I've actually been sorta dying to write about this for a while because it is sometime I'm mildly passionate about. You see for the longest time I was very loyal to Diana Krall and refused to judge her music because she was a pop/jazz success (this is a point where I should also mention my line of work - I'm a student studying jazz voice at U of T). So I stayed loyal all those years, mostly because she was my first exposure to jazz, I really kept an open mind. Now when I tossed her new CD Quiet Nights on at my parents home in Bruce County (I'll describe that another time) I was absolutely let down. It was bland. Bland, bland, bland. Like that white Wonderbread our mom's all buy because it's cheaper but now it has extra nutrients added so its not so bad. Bland.
When I listened to it I really just wanted her to stop singing and play piano because, to be fair, I really don't mind her piano playing. What bothered me most was how appalling her vocal technique was and above everything how she played into every single generalizing trait that jazz singer's are plagued with - the soft, dark and sultry voice that sounds like you knocked back a few shots of Jack Daniels and smoked a package of cigarettes.
I just couldn't listen to it. Where's the body in her voice, the soul? I mean half the songs just sounded like she didn't care. Now, to be fair when she swings, that girl can swing and it's great. However on this album I just wasn't feeling it. Too bad. I like her otherwise - guess I'll just have to wait and hear the next one.
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