Oh. My. Gosh. I haven't even heard the entire album yet, and already it's my new favourite. I mean, here I thought their last album, "Afterwards" was awesome. But the Rabbit album (release date August 25th!!!!) is even better! Their new drummer, Cheney Brannon, is just outstanding. The songs show originality, talent, and of course they contain that "stimulation" that kids these days are constantly searching for (I really don't understand that, and I could write an entire 5-page essay on it, but I won't get into it....for now).
My brother even said it's their best, next to the blue album. So Kudos to you, Ed, Dean, Joel, Cheney, Will....it's a job well done. :)
I just wish I could see you in concert! Just once!!
(Oh yeah, here's where you can hear the entire album http://www.vh1.com/artists/az/collective_soul/2449754/album.jhtml or http://watch.muchmusic.com/muchmore/first-spin/first-spin-collective-soul---rabbit/#clip204282
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
dance, dance, wherever you may be...everbody dances when they gotta pee...
Well, how do you like that. Doc said it'd take 4-6 weeks for my ankle to heel. I was walking in 2 weeks, walking without pain in 3, and without a limp in 4. By 5 weeks I could hop up and down the stairs normally, and by 6 I could run a very awkward type of run. So here I am, going into my 7th week. You'd think I could start dancing by now. and I don't mean the little 2-step, waltz, and tango etc, that take one or two minutes to finish. I mean the ridiculous type of dancing I would do, all by myself in my little room, with a huge imaginary audience watching me as the sound of Leahy blared out of my stereo.
That's right. Step-dancing.
I never did properly learn how, aside from a few steps shown to me by my future sister-in-law. That and watching the Leahy sisters and Natalie MacMaster are all I've had to teach me. And I must tell you, it definitely shows - which is why I never dance when there's anybody around. My imagination finds the pretence thrilling, and my body finds the exercise invigorating. I don't need to be an expert Cape Breton step-dancer. I'm perfectly happy dancing in my little room, trying to match my steps with the "tap tap" sound coming from various Leahy/Natalie recordings. I'm certainly no pro when it comes to the moonwalk, with Natalie does so nicely, but my imaginary agent seems to think so.
Alright. So maybe I dwell too much in my imaginary world, where nothing goes wrong (unless it's in the script....yes, I'm an actress, too). Maybe I should stick to REAL exercise that people do: jogging, biking, swimming, weights....but where's the fun in that? I suppose while jogging I could pretend I'm a secret agent chasing a dangerous criminal, or while I'm biking I could be a world-champion horse racer at the Kentucky Derby. Swimming...well, I'm afraid I spend too much time pretending I'm drowning after the ship explodes to focus on doing laps.
My point is, as much as I find these different imaginings.....different, maybe even exciting, I have always preferred dancing as my form of exercise. No, really, I have! When our family was expecting its first wedding, and I had to order a new outfit, what did I do to keep in shape? Why, I danced, of course! Back then I was obsessed with the '50's. Twists, hops, jives, etc...I didn't know how, but I had a ton of fun doing it.
So, again, on Monday it will be 7 weeks now since I sprained my ankle. And I still can't dance for more than a couple minutes. I can't even twist my foot properly, which is necessary for some of the steps I've learned.
Oh woe is me.
That's right. Step-dancing.
I never did properly learn how, aside from a few steps shown to me by my future sister-in-law. That and watching the Leahy sisters and Natalie MacMaster are all I've had to teach me. And I must tell you, it definitely shows - which is why I never dance when there's anybody around. My imagination finds the pretence thrilling, and my body finds the exercise invigorating. I don't need to be an expert Cape Breton step-dancer. I'm perfectly happy dancing in my little room, trying to match my steps with the "tap tap" sound coming from various Leahy/Natalie recordings. I'm certainly no pro when it comes to the moonwalk, with Natalie does so nicely, but my imaginary agent seems to think so.
Alright. So maybe I dwell too much in my imaginary world, where nothing goes wrong (unless it's in the script....yes, I'm an actress, too). Maybe I should stick to REAL exercise that people do: jogging, biking, swimming, weights....but where's the fun in that? I suppose while jogging I could pretend I'm a secret agent chasing a dangerous criminal, or while I'm biking I could be a world-champion horse racer at the Kentucky Derby. Swimming...well, I'm afraid I spend too much time pretending I'm drowning after the ship explodes to focus on doing laps.
My point is, as much as I find these different imaginings.....different, maybe even exciting, I have always preferred dancing as my form of exercise. No, really, I have! When our family was expecting its first wedding, and I had to order a new outfit, what did I do to keep in shape? Why, I danced, of course! Back then I was obsessed with the '50's. Twists, hops, jives, etc...I didn't know how, but I had a ton of fun doing it.
So, again, on Monday it will be 7 weeks now since I sprained my ankle. And I still can't dance for more than a couple minutes. I can't even twist my foot properly, which is necessary for some of the steps I've learned.
Oh woe is me.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Blah.
Blah. Blah blah, blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah. Blah blah blah.
I suppose that's all my blogs are to you anyway. :-P
Oh, I have things to say. I have secrets to giggle and blush over. But none of you need know about them.
There, now go ahead and die of curiosity. See if I care.
Blah,
Blahanne.
I suppose that's all my blogs are to you anyway. :-P
Oh, I have things to say. I have secrets to giggle and blush over. But none of you need know about them.
There, now go ahead and die of curiosity. See if I care.
Blah,
Blahanne.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
My loverly bedroom.
"Rheanne, why don't you do something with your life. All you ever do is sit in your room allllll day."
Uh huh. Sure, that's true some days. But as my older siblings and parents would, or at least should, recall, is that I have always spent a good portion of my time in my bedroom. Most of my childhood memories consist of me in my room, playing barbies. In my room, listening to music. In my room, imagining far-off worlds and different times. I have always loved having a room for myself to sneak away to, a room in which I can sit without being disturbed and imagine all sorts of adventures. A room to provide silence and solitude for my reading pleasure. This is the way it has always been.
Perhaps I should spend more time with my family. I don't know. I do know is that whenever I go upstairs to find some kind of activity, I either: (a) Find nothing interesting to do, (b) Find that nobody wants to play anything, (c) Get in trouble, or (d) Eat things that I really don't need to be eating. Might I also add, that in the summertime it can be dreadfully hot up there when the air conditioner isn't on. Can you really blame me if I prefer the cool air that sits in my humble bedroom to the stifling heat that sticks to you as soon as your foot reaches the top step?
Another accusation made against me is that all I ever do is go on my computer. Well, unfortunately, for the first few months that I was home, and for that unspeakable period of slight depression in mid-April, this was quite true. I have since however learned to do other things to occupy my time. Lately I have come by some very good books, some of which would take me hours to put down. Last week I was able to buy some more paint-by-numbers, thus enabling me to practice my painting again. My violin continues to show off its glory, sitting on top of its case, and of course my writing, musings, and drawing has considerably doubled.
This is why my room constantly looks as if a tornado passed by. When I get into an artistic state of mind, all other cares and worries of life - food, cleanliness, society - pass from my mind, and all I can focus on is the deep satisfaction and joy I achieve from these simple hobbies.
I recall my teenage years. I often spent my hours - and they were many, believe me! - sitting on my bed or floor, eyes closed in a deep reverie, listening to some very enjoyable music. It was usually violin or fiddle music, and I was really imagining myself as the lead violinist. I still do that. Only now, while I listen to music, I can put my thoughts into words, and the words into blogs. Ok, so not all of my musings and thoughts are beneficial for all of mankind. But it is a hobby, and a rather enjoyable one at that.
Nobody laughs at or accuses a stamp-collector, a scrap-booker, a photographer, or a rock-painter, of being "lazy" or "unproductive". And if they do, they shouldn't. All people need some kind of escape from the real world, a place or a thing in which they can unleash their imaginations and show the world what they are capable of doing. Some work better alone in well-decorated studios, some prefer rooms full of noisy people, some prefer the outdoors.
I prefer my bedroom, thank you very much.
Uh huh. Sure, that's true some days. But as my older siblings and parents would, or at least should, recall, is that I have always spent a good portion of my time in my bedroom. Most of my childhood memories consist of me in my room, playing barbies. In my room, listening to music. In my room, imagining far-off worlds and different times. I have always loved having a room for myself to sneak away to, a room in which I can sit without being disturbed and imagine all sorts of adventures. A room to provide silence and solitude for my reading pleasure. This is the way it has always been.
Perhaps I should spend more time with my family. I don't know. I do know is that whenever I go upstairs to find some kind of activity, I either: (a) Find nothing interesting to do, (b) Find that nobody wants to play anything, (c) Get in trouble, or (d) Eat things that I really don't need to be eating. Might I also add, that in the summertime it can be dreadfully hot up there when the air conditioner isn't on. Can you really blame me if I prefer the cool air that sits in my humble bedroom to the stifling heat that sticks to you as soon as your foot reaches the top step?
Another accusation made against me is that all I ever do is go on my computer. Well, unfortunately, for the first few months that I was home, and for that unspeakable period of slight depression in mid-April, this was quite true. I have since however learned to do other things to occupy my time. Lately I have come by some very good books, some of which would take me hours to put down. Last week I was able to buy some more paint-by-numbers, thus enabling me to practice my painting again. My violin continues to show off its glory, sitting on top of its case, and of course my writing, musings, and drawing has considerably doubled.
This is why my room constantly looks as if a tornado passed by. When I get into an artistic state of mind, all other cares and worries of life - food, cleanliness, society - pass from my mind, and all I can focus on is the deep satisfaction and joy I achieve from these simple hobbies.
I recall my teenage years. I often spent my hours - and they were many, believe me! - sitting on my bed or floor, eyes closed in a deep reverie, listening to some very enjoyable music. It was usually violin or fiddle music, and I was really imagining myself as the lead violinist. I still do that. Only now, while I listen to music, I can put my thoughts into words, and the words into blogs. Ok, so not all of my musings and thoughts are beneficial for all of mankind. But it is a hobby, and a rather enjoyable one at that.
Nobody laughs at or accuses a stamp-collector, a scrap-booker, a photographer, or a rock-painter, of being "lazy" or "unproductive". And if they do, they shouldn't. All people need some kind of escape from the real world, a place or a thing in which they can unleash their imaginations and show the world what they are capable of doing. Some work better alone in well-decorated studios, some prefer rooms full of noisy people, some prefer the outdoors.
I prefer my bedroom, thank you very much.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Letter to Jonas Armstrong
"Dear Jonas,
I hope this letter finds you well and happy! I'm quite a new fan. 2 weeks ago I sprained my ankle; having no social life and bored out of my mind I started watching Robin Hood on youtube (it's hard to find it on T.V. here in Canada). I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed with having achieved 2 full seasons in 7 days! Either way, it helped tremendously in entertaining my imaginative mind. I love the way you portrayed my favourite hero! Much as I enjoy Errol Flynn's Robin, you made him much more realistic and believable a character. I am looking forward to any future works you have in the making.
Thank you for your time! I hope to hear from you soon. :)
Sincerely Yours,
~ Miss Rheanne Millette"
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