First Published: 2018 November 7
As I mentioned earlier, I saw the Book of Mormon a little bit ago. It was a fun show, and somewhat interesting.
I already knew the main storyline, plot, and music, because I live a life in proximity to musical theatre. Sadly, I remember only a few bits from the actual production.1
First, it was interesting that, other than Jesus, who had what I think was meant to be a California Surfer accent, all of the characters spoke with East Coast accents. Second, I didn’t realize how explicit the innuendo was in “Baptize Me.” Finally, the characters were almost over the top in how stereotypically American they sounded and acted at times. It was an interesting reminder that America is viewed differently from the outside looking in as from the inside looking in. Overall, however, it was a wonderful production. The cast and crew did a great job.
for some reason it was overshadowed by a different show I saw↩
First Published: 2018 November 6
Tonight I had the wonderful opportunity to see La Bayadere at the Royal Opera House.1 It was odd.
Apparently in ballet, unlike theatre, you’re supposed to read what’s going to happen ahead of time. I did not. I was confused.
I did like the second act, though. There were a couple of dances with the whole chorus that were super fun and made nice lines and shapes.
Overall, while not a fan of opera, at least I have another piece in the music to theatrical story spectrum. It begins with symphony, then sound painting, then ballet, opera, musical, then non musical theatre. Yay.
I’m cultured now↩
First Published: 2018 November 5
As I mentioned in an earlier post,1 I used to make bread a lot. But, since coming abroad, I haven’t made bread once. It’s a travesty, I know. To rectify this horrible occasion, on one of the worst anniversaries in British history, I made some bread.
Of course, I had to make adjustments to my general recipe. First, I tend to use five pounds of flour at a recipe. For a variety of reasons, I wasn’t going to do that.
So, I went with my normal way of making things, eyeballing. I poured in maybe too much yeast, but it’s yeast so it doesn’t matter. I then poured in most of the flour we had, poured in some water, and realized that it was far too much water. I realized that, while I had almost no “bread” flour, I had plenty of self-raising flour.
For those of us who don’t know what self raising flour is, it’s flour with a leavening agent mixed in.2 Since I didn’t really need one, having yeast and all, I was tempted to throw in some vinegar, to get rid of the leavening. But, since I couldn’t find vinegar, and didn’t feel like putting in the effort, I just went for it.
And, about an hour and a half into rising, I realized that I didn’t really want to wait until tomorrow to eat it, so I made it a semi-knead bread. I just kneaded it, and gave up on rising, so threw it in the oven. As I remember from this summer, I can’t let it sit for 90 minutes, so I’ll come back in the future, but since I’m not editing the draft any other way, it’ll be in this draft.
After cooking for around 20, it looked risen but still too pale. I set another timer for 10 minutes, and threw in more water.
Looked cooked, so out it came. After letting it cool, I opened it, and it smelled bready. It tasted like bread, and that’s the general goal
As I mentioned in an earlier post,3 I used to make bread a lot. But, since coming abroad, I haven’t made bread once. It’s a travesty, I know. So, tonight I decided that I would make a loaf of bread, if only to assure myself that England is part of the real world.
Of course, I had to make adjustments. As I mentioned in the recipe, I tend to use five pounds of flour at a recipe. For a variety of reasons, I wasn’t going to do that.
So, I went with my normal way of making things, eyeballing. I poured in maybe too much yeast, but it’s yeast so it doesn’t matter. I then poured in most of the flour we had, poured in some water, and realized that it was far too much water. I realized that, while I had almost no “bread” flour, I had plenty of self-raising flour.
For those of us who don’t know what self raising flour is, it’s flour with a leavening agent mixed in.4 Since I didn’t really need one, having yeast and all, I was tempted to throw in some vinegar, to get rid of the leavening. But, since I couldn’t find vinegar, and didn’t feel like putting in the effort, I just went for it.
And, about an hour and a half into rising, I realized that I didn’t really want to wait until tomorrow to eat it, so I made it a semi-knead bread. I just kneaded it, and now I’ll wait again for it.
As I mentioned in an earlier post,5 I used to make bread a lot. But, since coming abroad, I haven’t made bread once. It’s a travesty. So, tonight I decided that I would make a loaf of bread, if only to assure myself that England is part of the real world.
Of course, I had to make adjustments. As I mentioned in the recipe, I tend to use five pounds of flour at a recipe. For a variety of reasons, I wasn’t going to do that.
So, I went with my normal way of making things, eyeballing. I poured in maybe too much yeast, but it’s yeast so it doesn’t matter. I then poured in most of the flour we had, poured in some water, and realized that it was far too much water. I realized that, while I had almost no “bread” flour, I had plenty of self-raising flour.
For those of us who don’t know what self raising flour is, it’s flour with a leavening agent mixed in.6 Since I didn’t really need one, having yeast and all, I was tempted to throw in some vinegar, to get rid of the leavening. But, since I couldn’t find vinegar, and didn’t feel like putting in the effort, I just went for it.
It’s raising right now, so we’ll see how it goes.
First Published: 2018 November 4
Deuteronomy 6:5 “Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.”
The Gospel today spoke to me for the same reason that it speaks to many people. It’s an incredibly simple command that Jesus lays out. Instead of having hundreds and hundreds of rules and laws, there are only two.1
You are to love the Lord with all your heart, soul, and strength. And you are to love your neighbor as yourself. Wow that sounds nice and easy to understand and completely impossible to follow.
What does loving the Lord with all your heart, soul, and strength mean? How do we love Him?
And when we start asking those questions, we realize why there are so many rules and laws in both the Jewish faith,2 and also in the Catholic faith.3 It’s the same reason that we can’t just say “I’ll write a novel,” and instead need to break it into smaller steps. People aren’t good at big picture projects. Dedicating our lives to a cause is the biggest picture any of us can do, but without frameworks to help us, we either find ourselves paralyzed with indecision,4 or led down dark paths, forged with the best of intentions. Of course, there is the slight chance that we do brighten the world, and make it a better place.
But, to steal an analogy given to me, the Church provides an interstate. It guarantees that if you don’t ever get off the interstate, you’ll go to heaven.
There’s nothing stopping you from driving down the country roads and side streets, and you’ll likely see more exciting vistas than if you stay on the interstate. But, you always run the risk of your car breaking down before you get to where you’re going.
First Published: 2018 November 3
People who know me might know that I’m somewhat flighty. Despite this, I really try to build my days around touchstones, or events that are required at a certain place and time. This works nicely in a majority of my life, as academics and extracurriculars provide this. Somehow, having anything to do in a day makes me keep track of the entire day so much better.
But, some days don’t have any events. Even Sundays, where I attend Mass, don’t feel like an event, because there are multiple options for time. These past two days in particular, I feel as though time has simply passed me by. I don’t really know where the last 48 hours went, though I know they must have gone somewhere. Such is life I suppose.
Normally I keep my days very structured. While it isn’t the structure that most people think of,1 I have the entirety of my days flow around focal points, as a way to orient myself. So, when I have days with no imposed structure, they tend to disappear.
Today is a great example of this. I woke up at nearly 11 am, because I had no reason not to. Over the next hour and a half, I apparently wrote.2 After that, I think I watched a tv show until 5, when I helped people make dinner, and then did activities with friends. But, the day still feels as though it’s barely started. I don’t like this feeling.
First Published: 2018 November 2
Today I began mapping the keystrokes on my keyboard to Celtic knots. I’ve mapped around a quarter of the letters,1 and have been able to begin drawing with what I’ve made. It may not have been one of my most productive four hours in terms of benefit to the world or self, but it was productive in the sense of losing myself to the project, if only for a bit.
Today, I made a font!
Technically.
Maybe.
Let me check the definition.
Maybe? I’m unsure what I made. I guess: I made a series of images that correspond to the letters on the computer keyboard.
Technically, even if I were to call it a font, I’m missing most of the characters. The characters I’ve mapped are: A,C,D,E,F,G,Q,R,T,W,X,Z,a,b,c,d,e,f,g,q,r,s,t,w,z,z, (space),1,2,3,4,!,@,#,$. What I made was a Celtic knot generation font. So, each letter had a different symbol attached to it, so that I could make the knots I’ve been drawing more easily and quickly. It was a semi-productive way to kill four hours, and I’m not quite done yet,2 but I had a good time.
First Published: 2018 November 1
As many of you know, today is All Saints Day. Coincidentally, that means that today is also the first of November. Now, in addition to being the month dedicated to a focus on men’s1 mental health, November is also NaNoWriMo.2 And, since I lack most of the time consuming activities I have at Grinnell,3 I have more free time here. So, I decided I’d try to write 50,000 additional words this month, or around 1700 a day. Now, according to my quick and dirty approximation, I’ve written approximately 750 words a day for these posts.
That’s a shame. I guess that I’m going to have to triple my daily word count, since this isn’t an excuse for me to stop posting, and I don’t want to subject others to the horror of my attempts at creative writing.
First Published: 2018 October 31
If I’ve learned anything these past few days, it’s that I broke a mirror a little more than seven years ago. For those of you who don’t have superstitious family, legend says that breaking a mirror causes seven years of bad luck. Now, I’m not saying this as a comment about my lack of luck these past seven years. As far as I can remember,1 I’ve had a pretty great seven years. However, these past few days have been somehow so much better.
To begin: yesterday afternoon I found out that I had won the Hamilton lottery.2 Of course, this was a slightly double-edged sword,3 because I was seeing Book of Mormon earlier in the afternoon. But, when I went to the first show, it was great. I got free gummis, and had a great view of the stage.
After the show, I checked my email. I found out that I had been accepted to a reception at Parliament a professor had applied for on my behalf. That’s super exciting.
Then I went to Hamilton. I was in the middle of the front row, and was tall enough that I could still see most of the show. At the end of the show, I got to take a photo with the conductor!
I love taking photos with techies, because they’re always so much nicer than actors when I ask to take photos with them. So, here’s to another seven years of apparently good luck.
Apparently I broke a mirror a little over seven years ago. Now, this isn’t to say that I have had poor luck before this, but these past few days I’ve felt uniquely lucky. First, yesterday I found out that I had won the lottery for Hamilton.4 Today at Book of Mormon,5 I was given free gummi bears. Then, I found out that I had a great view of the stage for the show. When I left the show, I learned that I would get to attend a reception at Parliament in two weeks. At Hamilton, I learned that I was in the center of the front row. Then, to end it, I got to take a photo with the conductor! Overall, life is going great.
First Published: 2018 October 30
A few days ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to see Resonet at the Brighton Early Music Festival. Now, I didn’t know it at the time, but, despite the fact that England is smaller than Iowa, it takes longer to get from point a to point b. And, I also was unaware that Brighton was on the southern edge of the country. All this is to say that what I thought would be a .5-1 hour trip ended up being an almost 5 hour round trip to get to the concert.
The show was medieval music, featuring Resonet together with Brighton Early Music Choir.1 The choir was nice, but not extremely notable, which is to be expected from community choir. Resonet’s director played a citola, and did so with equal parts grace and style. That is, at times he played with flourishes and showmanship, and at others, very subdued and calm. Their percussionist seemed to have the perfect backdrop for every piece, from a gong to a dulcimer. Although I was promised a hurdy gurdy that never appeared, the instrumentalist on recorder and bagpipes was stunning.2 The final instrumentalist played recorder and shawm and did so wonderfully.
As for the singers, the baritone had the voice made for singing love songs. The soprano was clear and pure, and the countertenor slotted perfectly between the two.
But, as is becoming the case more and more, much of my enjoyment of the show did not come from the scripted portions. I met a wonderful older woman3 who I chatted with for a good half of an hour or so. The interactions I can make like that are part of why I love music and cities.
I also got a chance to speak with the conductor about his citola, the piper about his pipes, and the dulcimist4 about his dulcimer. It was all great fun, and well worth being out too late.
All in all, it was a great time, and I forgot how nice it is to watch live music in a small5 space.
Today I had the wonderful opportunity to see Resonet at the Brighton Early Music Festival. Those of you with a grasp of English geography may know that Brighton is 2 hours by public transit from London. I did not, but do now.
The show was medieval music, featuring a group and the Brighton Choir. The choir was nice. The group’s director played a citola, and did so with equal parts grace and style. Their percussionist seemed to have the perfect backdrop for every piece, including a dulcimer. Although I was promised a hurdy gurdy that never appeared, the instrumentalist on recorder and bagpipes was stunning. The final instrumentalist played recorder and shawm and did so wonderfully.
As for the singers, the baritone had the voice made for singing love songs. The soprano was clear and pure, and the countertenor slotted perfectly between the two.
But, as is becoming the case more and more, much of my enjoyment of the show did not come from the scripted portions. I met a wonderful older woman6 who I chatted with for a good half of an hour or so. The interactions I can make like that are part of why I love music and cities.
I also got a chance to speak with the conductor about his citola, the piper about his pipes, and the dulcimist7 about his dulcimer. It was all great fun, and well worth being out too late.8
wow I wish Grinnell had an early music choir↩
I’m still annoyed that there wasn’t a hurdy gurdy↩
which should be unsurprising to anyone familiar with early music, as older people are the overwhelming majority of attendees↩
this is the term I choose to use, regardless of correctness↩
i.e. not multiple tiers of people↩
which should be unsurprising to anyone familiar with early music, as older people are the overwhelming majority of attendees↩
this is the term I choose to use, regardless of societal norms↩
though I am writing this on the trip back, and may feel differently when I arrive↩
First Published: 2018 October 29
Tonight, I had the wonderful fortune of seeing The Height of the Storm at Wyndham’s Theatre. It was a very confusing show, layering time, subjective and objective realities colliding within a fracturing mind. It hit me very powerfully, although I haven’t had to watch someone around me undergo it. I have felt some of the deja vu that the show plays with, especially when thinking about my grandparents.
The stage was interesting. When I first saw it, I felt a little nauseous, because it felt almost as if a two point perspective drawing made in three dimensions. However, as the show progressed, it began to feel more and more natural.