I found my new toy on the first day high school: the clarinet. How hard could it be to play? Not that easy. There are several separated pieces in my clarinet case, with a small yellow bamboo which they call a reed. Which piece goes at the top? Which one at the bottom? My first day friend Anna taught and helped me put them together. The rest of the students were all warming up their flutes, trumpets, and saxophones, and I got ready to blow on the clarinet.
Wetting the reed lightly, I placed my lips over the mouthpiece. “Don’t be surprised if the clarinet doesn’t make a sound,” Anna warned. I brushed off her comment - of course it was going to make a sound. As I took a breath, the insecurities started rolling in. Was I biting too hard? What if the note squeaks? I made sure that I was putting enough pressure on the mouthpiece. I sat up straight. I took a deep breath and I went ahead and blew. Nothing. No sound came out except for a measly ball of spit. I tried again, and again, and again, but still, not even a peep.
I tried many different angles to blow the clarinet. I bit down harder, bit down softer, used more breath, used less breath. Nothing seemed to be working until there! Suddenly, the clarinet let out a short wail. Did I imagine that? I blew on the mouthpiece and there it was again! I had made a sound! The reed vibrated pleasantly as the hollow ghostly whisper grew louder and more confident. Notes were streaming out of its bell and I could see them spinning and dancing. The woodwind instrument rang out its melody until I was no longer making a sound. I was making music.
Music is something that is deeply integrated into our lives but often overlooked. A boy sits on the curb, waiting for his bus, his head bobbing slightly to his headphones. His gaze is far away. A faint smile crosses his face. Words unspoken, but he understands perfectly. A car skids in the distance. A door is slammed shut. A baby starts to cry, but the boy hears only the music.
A girl stares out her window into the rainy clouds. Her day was long, she is tired. She hums along to her favourite anthem. The music envelopes her in its soft caress. The melody drifts on into the night.
Without music in our lives, emotions would turn into bottled thoughts. As Victor Hugo once said, “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”
Sunday, 29 November 2015
Saturday, 10 October 2015
Autumn Day
No longer the pastel pinks of the spring morning, nor the vibrant greens of a summer day, the scene is decorated like an inferno, fiery shocking colors before the blank slate. Crimson foliage scatters across the smattering of hills. Round golden leaves of the slender graceful aspen flutter onto the browning grass. The flaming scarlet of the bald cypress blooms in the distance. The immortal green of the conifers' needle forms a prickly bed. Shaking their array of colours, the trees perform a vivid show.
Squirrels scramble to search for food and hide their hard earned prizes. Droopy-eyed mice scurry in their burrows for a 3 month long nap. Geese squawk above, in perfect formation, heading south to warmer lands. The sun sinks beneath the horizon ever earlier, leaving trickles of light to form an inky indigo sky.
Sharper winds hurries, inviting in Old Man Winter. Scents of the fresh chill air settles like a blanket, and the cold seeps in both clothes and skin. Chilly fingers rub against each other, in an attempt to feel a bit of warmth. Misty fog forms as people exhale, fleeting and barely noticeable.
Stuffed into coats and scarves, people hunt for warm drinks. Draining the warmth from bowls of steaming soup and mugs of comforting hot chocolate, the air smells of cinnamon and pumpkin. Seeking solace in buildings, people hide behind closed doors, under the protection of a warm blanket.
Like grizzlies, the cold air brings yawns to late risers. Early morning runners sigh at the weather and heads back inside. Still, children enjoy the crunch of leaves, leaping in piles their hair full of grass, their pants muddy at the knees and their eyes bright with a smile. Decorating their artwork with terracotta maple leaves and brittle stalks of now petal-less flowers.
The winter chill will soon squirm its way in, but the comfort of a fire, of friends and of family will chase it away. Perhaps like a dying star, the trees blaze bright before loosing its glory, but the picturesque scenery always invites sightseers, enjoying an autumn day.
Les Choristes: Critique du film
« Les Choristes » est un film comique et dramatique à la fois avec des éléments musicaux. Son réalisateur, Christophe Barratier, a réussi à mettre des larmes aux yeux des spectateurs. Ce film a été inspiré par l’histoire « La Cage aux Rossignols », un film réalisé en 1945. Avec 96 minutes de chansons ravissantes, un beau Jean-Baptiste Maunier, et un pion drôle et féru de la musique, c’est un film émouvant.
D’abord, ce film commence avec un montage lent d’un vieux chef d’orchestre. Bientôt, c’est révélé que cet homme s’appelle Pierre par un ancien ami, Pépinot, qui lui donne un journal abimé de Clément Mathieu. Le film ensuite se déplace en l’année 1949 où Mathieu arrive au
D’abord, ce film commence avec un montage lent d’un vieux chef d’orchestre. Bientôt, c’est révélé que cet homme s’appelle Pierre par un ancien ami, Pépinot, qui lui donne un journal abimé de Clément Mathieu. Le film ensuite se déplace en l’année 1949 où Mathieu arrive au
« Fond de l’Étang », une école pour les enfants difficiles et des orphelines.
En fait, Père Maxence, un homme à tout faire qui a accueillit Mathieu, a été piégé par un garçon. Lorsque le directeur, M. Rachin, ne peut pas trouver le mauvais garçon, il décide de faire une punition collective et il demande à Mathieu de lire un nom au hasard d’un livre. On trouve que le vieux chef d’orchestre dans le début de film, Pierre Morhange, et son ami, Pépinot, étaient des étudiants à « Fond de l’Étang ».
Mathieu trouve que la philosophie de M. Rachin (action-réaction) est très violente et cruelle. Les garçons sont trépidants et ils n’entendent pas les instructions de Mathieu jusqu'à un jour, quand Mathieu entend un garçon chanter. À cause de cela, Mathieu, musicien raté, fonde une chorale avec les étudiants. Comme dans toutes les écoles ennuyantes avec plein de tristesse et un directeur qui déteste la joie de ses élèves, il y a beaucoup des problèmes pour la chorale et pour ses choristes.
Christophe Barratier a utilisé une façon unique pour signer le passage de l’histoire. Pendant ce film, la voix de Mathieu raconte l’histoire de son point de vue et comme si c’était un journal intime. Tandis qu’il n’y a pas beaucoup d’action dans ce film ni un climax intense, on ressent toujours de l’anticipation après les conflits qui se déroulent.
Le décor de « Fond de L’Étang » est sombre, décrépit et très gris. Les portes ressemblent à celles d’une prison. En outre, les vêtements des garçons sont laids et simples. Dans quelques cadrages, il y a des gros plans des vêtements de Morhange qui sont toujours ébouriffés.
D’autre part, les acteurs et la musique dans « Les Choristes » sont exceptionnels. En outre, Barratier a voulu des vrais chanteurs professionnels donc la cherche pour un acteur de Pierre Morhange a pris beaucoup de temps. Enfin, ils ont trouvé Jean-Baptiste Maunier, un chanteur dans la chorale « Les Petits Chanteurs de Saint-Marc » avec une belle voix bouleversante. La musique change avec le contexte du film – les chansons tristes pour la douleur et les chansons festives pour le bonheur.
« Les Choristes » a eu 2 nominations aux Oscars pour leur musique céleste, et aussi pour leur message fort. Une personne peut changer la perspective d’une autre et avoir un grand impact sur leur vie. Avant que Clément Mathieu a été embauché comme un pion, les enseignants dans « La Fond de L’Étang » étaient stricts et violents. C’est pour cela que les garçons ont appris que chaque action a une réaction sévère alors ils vivaient en peur. Ainsi, quand Morhange a dessiné une image offensant de M. Rachin, il a été jeté dans le cachot et il a perdu son rendez-vous avec sa mère. Avec Mathieu, il pense que tout le monde mérite une autre chance donc il est plus souple et compréhensif. Mathieu a pardonné le garçon qui a piégé la porte et au lieu de lui fesser, Mathieu a lui demandé de prendre soin de Père Maxence.
Pour conclure, « Les Choristes » est un film très mignon et touchant. Ce film est recommandé pour des spectateurs qui sont plus âgés parce qu’il y a quelques phrases vulgaires où les personnages jurent. Malgré il n’y a pas beaucoup de l’action, il faut la peine pour apprécier la musique formidable.
En fait, Père Maxence, un homme à tout faire qui a accueillit Mathieu, a été piégé par un garçon. Lorsque le directeur, M. Rachin, ne peut pas trouver le mauvais garçon, il décide de faire une punition collective et il demande à Mathieu de lire un nom au hasard d’un livre. On trouve que le vieux chef d’orchestre dans le début de film, Pierre Morhange, et son ami, Pépinot, étaient des étudiants à « Fond de l’Étang ».
Mathieu trouve que la philosophie de M. Rachin (action-réaction) est très violente et cruelle. Les garçons sont trépidants et ils n’entendent pas les instructions de Mathieu jusqu'à un jour, quand Mathieu entend un garçon chanter. À cause de cela, Mathieu, musicien raté, fonde une chorale avec les étudiants. Comme dans toutes les écoles ennuyantes avec plein de tristesse et un directeur qui déteste la joie de ses élèves, il y a beaucoup des problèmes pour la chorale et pour ses choristes.
Christophe Barratier a utilisé une façon unique pour signer le passage de l’histoire. Pendant ce film, la voix de Mathieu raconte l’histoire de son point de vue et comme si c’était un journal intime. Tandis qu’il n’y a pas beaucoup d’action dans ce film ni un climax intense, on ressent toujours de l’anticipation après les conflits qui se déroulent.
Le décor de « Fond de L’Étang » est sombre, décrépit et très gris. Les portes ressemblent à celles d’une prison. En outre, les vêtements des garçons sont laids et simples. Dans quelques cadrages, il y a des gros plans des vêtements de Morhange qui sont toujours ébouriffés.
D’autre part, les acteurs et la musique dans « Les Choristes » sont exceptionnels. En outre, Barratier a voulu des vrais chanteurs professionnels donc la cherche pour un acteur de Pierre Morhange a pris beaucoup de temps. Enfin, ils ont trouvé Jean-Baptiste Maunier, un chanteur dans la chorale « Les Petits Chanteurs de Saint-Marc » avec une belle voix bouleversante. La musique change avec le contexte du film – les chansons tristes pour la douleur et les chansons festives pour le bonheur.
« Les Choristes » a eu 2 nominations aux Oscars pour leur musique céleste, et aussi pour leur message fort. Une personne peut changer la perspective d’une autre et avoir un grand impact sur leur vie. Avant que Clément Mathieu a été embauché comme un pion, les enseignants dans « La Fond de L’Étang » étaient stricts et violents. C’est pour cela que les garçons ont appris que chaque action a une réaction sévère alors ils vivaient en peur. Ainsi, quand Morhange a dessiné une image offensant de M. Rachin, il a été jeté dans le cachot et il a perdu son rendez-vous avec sa mère. Avec Mathieu, il pense que tout le monde mérite une autre chance donc il est plus souple et compréhensif. Mathieu a pardonné le garçon qui a piégé la porte et au lieu de lui fesser, Mathieu a lui demandé de prendre soin de Père Maxence.
Pour conclure, « Les Choristes » est un film très mignon et touchant. Ce film est recommandé pour des spectateurs qui sont plus âgés parce qu’il y a quelques phrases vulgaires où les personnages jurent. Malgré il n’y a pas beaucoup de l’action, il faut la peine pour apprécier la musique formidable.
Monday, 24 August 2015
Writer's Block
A detested blank page, white and crisp, unmarred by graphite. The white abyss saps away all the ideas and thoughts, blurred by the endless sheet of white. Like unblinking eyes it stares ahead, daring for the first line to appear. A strange hypnosis settles over, and all one can do is stare back. What should be the first word? What should be the first mark, a break in the infinite whiteness? Thoughts begin to lose focus, drained and sucked away by the daunting paper.
The outside air seems fresh and sweet, the sounds of the city rides on the wind, and the clouds twists and churns, flowing high above deforming and reforming. The laughter from anonymous passersby floats through the window and harmonizes with the constant hum of a computer.
Bright ideas flashes through an empty mind, like silver fish in a charming lake, evasive yet so obvious. A sentence appears on the paper, slowly and deliberately the pencil moves. The period marks the end, and the first line is done. Staring beneath the lonely words, all blood rushes out of the face at the task to fill the rest. Rubbing a forehead, two more sentences appears, only for them all to be erased, the shavings litter across the page. A few more words, then erase, like an unbroken pattern. The page, now scarred with blurred out lines laugh a sinister laugh. Filled with malice, it refuses to be filled.
Reaching out for a phone, scrolling through empty notification bars as an excuse to look at the time. Shutting off the screen and putting it aside, a drawn out sigh echoes through the room. The sun makes its lazy journey across the summer sky. Pleasant musings fill the head, as drawn out scenes seem to dance across the page. Touching the phone again, unlocking the screen only to be locked again.
Frustrated taps of the pencil leaves tiny dot marks on the page. Words seem to form in the head only to dissolve on the page. Looking around the room, trying to think of that one elusive, impalpable, vexing, irksome, impish, necessary word. Searching online, searching the thesaurus, the dictionary and suddenly an eureka moment occurs.
Like a dam overflowing, ideas crash through and suddenly the pencil jumps to life. Repeating them in the mind to retain these precious thoughts. The page fills to the halfway point and once again, the colorful, vibrant, bright ideas pool away.
The dots on the paper seem to have a sudden shape, the lines of the parchment are suddenly touched by imagination. Doodles and sketches blossom around the margins and tabs and windows of much more captivating subjects litter the computer screen.
Peeking at the time, a instant panic clenches the throat. Hastily erasing evidence of the wandering mind, the pencil hurries to scribble down the conclusion. A bright horizon looms ahead, freedom lingers in every breath. The last paragraph, the last sentence and as if the Gates of Heaven were open, a sudden peace settles as the last dot marks the end. Sweet liberty grasps the hand and with the head tossed back, the page is filled. A small smile flits across the face as the vile, discouraging, empty, crisp sheet is at last tamed.
The outside air seems fresh and sweet, the sounds of the city rides on the wind, and the clouds twists and churns, flowing high above deforming and reforming. The laughter from anonymous passersby floats through the window and harmonizes with the constant hum of a computer.
Bright ideas flashes through an empty mind, like silver fish in a charming lake, evasive yet so obvious. A sentence appears on the paper, slowly and deliberately the pencil moves. The period marks the end, and the first line is done. Staring beneath the lonely words, all blood rushes out of the face at the task to fill the rest. Rubbing a forehead, two more sentences appears, only for them all to be erased, the shavings litter across the page. A few more words, then erase, like an unbroken pattern. The page, now scarred with blurred out lines laugh a sinister laugh. Filled with malice, it refuses to be filled.
Reaching out for a phone, scrolling through empty notification bars as an excuse to look at the time. Shutting off the screen and putting it aside, a drawn out sigh echoes through the room. The sun makes its lazy journey across the summer sky. Pleasant musings fill the head, as drawn out scenes seem to dance across the page. Touching the phone again, unlocking the screen only to be locked again.
Frustrated taps of the pencil leaves tiny dot marks on the page. Words seem to form in the head only to dissolve on the page. Looking around the room, trying to think of that one elusive, impalpable, vexing, irksome, impish, necessary word. Searching online, searching the thesaurus, the dictionary and suddenly an eureka moment occurs.
Like a dam overflowing, ideas crash through and suddenly the pencil jumps to life. Repeating them in the mind to retain these precious thoughts. The page fills to the halfway point and once again, the colorful, vibrant, bright ideas pool away.
The dots on the paper seem to have a sudden shape, the lines of the parchment are suddenly touched by imagination. Doodles and sketches blossom around the margins and tabs and windows of much more captivating subjects litter the computer screen.
Peeking at the time, a instant panic clenches the throat. Hastily erasing evidence of the wandering mind, the pencil hurries to scribble down the conclusion. A bright horizon looms ahead, freedom lingers in every breath. The last paragraph, the last sentence and as if the Gates of Heaven were open, a sudden peace settles as the last dot marks the end. Sweet liberty grasps the hand and with the head tossed back, the page is filled. A small smile flits across the face as the vile, discouraging, empty, crisp sheet is at last tamed.
City Lights
Under the shadows of the moon and the quiet lullabies of a thousand stars, the silence of a sleeping neighbourhood is almost deafening. Almost. It long way from the hustle-bustle of the heart of the city but the tired wail of a lone car is never far from people. The silhouettes of towering buildings and structures line up the horizon, it’s lights only a faint memory of the day. Another day gone. Another day come. The stock market just dropped. The gas price climbed yet again. But for now, in the safety of the night, the promise of tomorrow is enough to sing the anxious hearts to sleep.
And when they do, all the worries from the day fade away. After all, no one determines what’s important other than yourself. They sleep and they dream, but in every dream, there is a killer. When morning comes once again, kids jump mechanically into a school bus and parents robotically drive into the glass city for another day of work.
But the lights from the city are not just another fading lullaby. While small neighbourhoods are leaving behind the eventful day, the city is wide and awake. Under the blessing of the moon and the quiet laughter of a thousand stars, the proudly shining lights border the coastline. The shops and stores are far from closing while people come and go, passing through the doors while their bodies dance across the streets. Waving spotlights beckon for a night of movie marathoning while flashing signs lure carefree people to a night of feasting.
Arms leaning to the ground, straining against the weight of the many bags from the countless malls, their laughter bounces off the roads. The night is still young. The beaming glow entrap the wild youth, no time for sleep and no place to hide. Where crying is not a sign of weakness but of strength, there is no time for tears. In the safety of metal cars, young life drive through intersections, away from regrets, until there was no telling where the streets began and where they ended.
As the cars drive aimlessly through the dark, they head back, searching for home. Wrapped in the warmth of the city life, they know that they have already found it. While we may gaze longingly beyond the clouds, the universe is gazing longingly back down at the vibrant city and its unforgettable tunes sung by the people.
While the neighbourhoods are quiet - doctors taking prescribed sleeps and businessmen shaking hands with their dreams, the metropolis hums with life. The glass buildings are far from perfect, but what really is perfect? The wrongs from the day and the constant worries are nothing as they are blinded by the city lights.
Sunday, 26 July 2015
Social Media
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, social media sites are now being used by many people across the planet. In fact 1.15 billion people are active on Facebook as of 2013. One can comment on a picture of what their friends did during the weekend, congratulate a friend for their new baby daughter and one can be updated with breaking news with a flick of their fingers. Yet with this newfound way of communication, we are also creating many problems in society.
Social media has made it easier for identity theft. Identity theft is one someone impersonates another person and thus "steals their identity" usually for financial gain. Because social media sites earn money by targeted advertising, these sites encourage the users to post sensitive information about themselves. In 2011, around 12 million Americans were victims of identity theft, a 13 percent increase from 2010 according to a report from Javelin Strategy & Research. 75 percent out of 700 teenagers were found to be quite open with their personal information, which heightens their risk of being victims of identity theft. A report from The Japan News shows how easy people surrender their private information to fraud posts with links. These messages lead to another page which asks users for contact details. Because these links are thought to be sent by a trusted source, these teens rashly post their personal information, and could become victims of identity theft.
Social media sites also decrease productivity, especially in an office setting. Although these businesses use social media to attract clients, the employees, with access to Facebook and Instagram, are more interested in scrolling through their news feed than actually working. Studies posted by Wired.com show that British companies lose 2.2 billion dollars a year because of the distraction these social media sites provide. Mashable reports social networks could be costing the U.S. economy 650 billion dollars per year. They also report that for ever 10.5 minutes, an employee is distracted by social media, and 41 percent of this time is on Facebook. A study by Ohio State University showed a correlation between people who use Facebook and their grades. As time spent on Facebook cuts back on their studying time, people who do use Facebook tend to receive lower grades.
Social networking is also interfering with our social lives, as paradoxical as it may sound. For one, because we become more and more comfortable interacting with each other behind screens, we have less person-to-person confrontation, which impacts our language skills as well as our public speaking skills. We would have difficulties reading body language and isolation from one another isn't healthy as humans are social animals, meaning they need interactions with one another. And even though these sites let you make many friends, these relationships are superficial. In fact we spend more time with online friends than real friends
In conclusion, social media is, undoubtedly an asset to society, however, it also hinders it as well. Through social media, we are creating more and more problems for ourselves and at times, instead of moving forward, we are in fact, slipping backwards. As social media is becoming more and more widespread, we must also be educated on its effects.
Social media has made it easier for identity theft. Identity theft is one someone impersonates another person and thus "steals their identity" usually for financial gain. Because social media sites earn money by targeted advertising, these sites encourage the users to post sensitive information about themselves. In 2011, around 12 million Americans were victims of identity theft, a 13 percent increase from 2010 according to a report from Javelin Strategy & Research. 75 percent out of 700 teenagers were found to be quite open with their personal information, which heightens their risk of being victims of identity theft. A report from The Japan News shows how easy people surrender their private information to fraud posts with links. These messages lead to another page which asks users for contact details. Because these links are thought to be sent by a trusted source, these teens rashly post their personal information, and could become victims of identity theft.
Social media sites also decrease productivity, especially in an office setting. Although these businesses use social media to attract clients, the employees, with access to Facebook and Instagram, are more interested in scrolling through their news feed than actually working. Studies posted by Wired.com show that British companies lose 2.2 billion dollars a year because of the distraction these social media sites provide. Mashable reports social networks could be costing the U.S. economy 650 billion dollars per year. They also report that for ever 10.5 minutes, an employee is distracted by social media, and 41 percent of this time is on Facebook. A study by Ohio State University showed a correlation between people who use Facebook and their grades. As time spent on Facebook cuts back on their studying time, people who do use Facebook tend to receive lower grades.
Social networking is also interfering with our social lives, as paradoxical as it may sound. For one, because we become more and more comfortable interacting with each other behind screens, we have less person-to-person confrontation, which impacts our language skills as well as our public speaking skills. We would have difficulties reading body language and isolation from one another isn't healthy as humans are social animals, meaning they need interactions with one another. And even though these sites let you make many friends, these relationships are superficial. In fact we spend more time with online friends than real friends
In conclusion, social media is, undoubtedly an asset to society, however, it also hinders it as well. Through social media, we are creating more and more problems for ourselves and at times, instead of moving forward, we are in fact, slipping backwards. As social media is becoming more and more widespread, we must also be educated on its effects.
Wednesday, 8 July 2015
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