Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard.
Where anything goes.
-//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7
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Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard. Where anything goes. -//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7 |
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Saturday, May 15, 2004 Let's start this off with a really lame joke, shall we? What is the name of the ghost who sings as well, and weighs as much as Luciano Pavarotti? Answer : The Fat-tum of the Opera. No, it can't be the ghost of Luciano Pavarotti, as much as you would wish to wreck this otherwise pointless and childish joke. Seriously, the novel I'm discussing is The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, about a mysterious singing ghostly figure who lives in the Paris Opera House, his patron and victim Christine Daaé (a soprano, beyond a doubt), and Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, her admirer and eventually lover. I don't really know where to place this novel, with regards to its genre, because it has many different aspects to it which prevent it from being subtyped under any more accessible term. It's not Gothic, because apart from the presence of a hideously disfigured and murderous ghostly character it's actually fairly light-hearted. It can't really be Romance, since while there is a love triangle (of sorts) the Opera Ghost (he's never actually called the Phantom of the Opera) is more of a deranged musician than a lover, Raoul actually isn't too clear about himself, and Christine is utterly bewildered most of the time. Maybe it should go under Black Humour, because the entire plot involving this 'love triangle' bears a distinct irony in its twists and turns, and the other subplot is utterly comical and involves the new owners of the Opera House André and Firmin, who originally believe the Opera Ghost is merely a sham and a shenanigan, and later on try, but fail ridiculously in attempting to uncover his secrets. Well, I don't think the murder of a stage hand is much of a joke, is it? If you know The Phantom of the Opera, you're more likely to be familiar with the popular, um, opera composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber, who makes great music but, frankly, is rubbish as far as storytelling is concerned. Anyway, needless to say, any screen adaptation (or, in this case, stage adaptation) of a novel is bound to have its discrepancies, and so maybe, before I venture my opinions on the themes and outcomes of this novel, I'll just take the opportunity to describe the major differences between the novel and the stage opera. Since I'm presuming that everyone's already familiar with the opera, and hence the plot, I shouldn't be spoiling anything by providing such an elaboration ... even though the last time The Phantom of the Opera was performed in Singapore was about a decade ago. Let's start with the characters. Firstly, the phantom, or more correctly the Opera Ghost (or O.G.), is not a baritone. Presumably, he would probably be speaking in a baritone voice given that he possesses all the carnal urges of the regular male, but he doesn't sing in baritone. He is in fact, a master of voices, a gifted vocalist who can articulate himself however he pleases, which may arise from the fact that he has no nose. YAY! Um, not really, because there's supposed to be a horrible hole in his face where his nose ought to be, so at one time he probably had a nose after all. He is also a ventriloquist (a point the opera doesn't elaborate upon), which may account for his seeming omnipresence, and he has a background (rather than just being 'a ghost') which is significant in the novel in explaining his talents, and his other more gruesome habits such as strangling people with a Punjab lasso (no, not a garotte, as the opera claims) and constructing vicious torture chambers for inquisitive little nosey parkers to stumble into. Christine and Raoul are also slightly different from their portrayal in the opera. The author is never clear as to which of them is actually older and whom younger, as Raoul is referred to by both himself and Chrstine as 'the boy ...', possibly emphasising his youth, and not merely a term of humility, him being a viscount and all. Raoul also has an older brother, the Comte de Chagny, who doesn't appear in the opera, and there's a large degree of speculation in the novel as to the nature of his relationship with Christine, so there might well be a second love triangle. Besides, the prima donna of the opera is highly unlikely to be your stereotypical newly-adolescent wench, and would probably be an experienced and august valkyrie like Carlotta (Charlotte!), so if Christine were to fit that role (as demanded by O.G.) she might not be as young as we imagine. Other discrepancies about the pair are Christine and Raoul do not initially love each other, as is suggested by the opera, because an important scene has been displaced (discussed later). For that matter, Christine might not be as wonderful a singer as we imagine in the first place as remember, she is only capable of it under the influence of O.G.. Having never achieved the status of prima donna without O.G.'s influence, her voice is variously described as 'flat' and 'stale' (in the English translation), which is the case when Carlotta is available to sing the lead and, conclusively, she might not be capable of singing pieces such as 'Angel of Music' (my favourite song from the opera), 'All I Ask of You' and 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again', since she is not possessed by O.G. under those circumstances. Just a few more points about the other minor characters. Meg Giry, who serves as Christine's foil in the opera, actually has no more than a few lines at the beginning of the novel and, for that matter, she doesn't even have such a friendly relationship with Christine. Methinks all Andrew Lloyd Webber wanted, by playing up her role in the story, was to create that ubiquitous alto who serves no other function than to make the soprano look good. Altos, you'll agree with me, won't you? Carlotta is none of the pompous prattler that she is in the opera, while she covets her status as prima donna as any respectable prima donna would, and is thus less than pleased at Christine displacing her, she never actually announces so publicly as she does in the opera song 'Prima Donna', in fact, the deliberate enhancement of her role in the opera, which consequently brings the chandelier down, is not out of her own desire but André and Firmin's, to confound that O.G. which is annoying them. And no, in the first scene, her voice never brought the scenery down ... that was Andrew Lloyd Webber's creation. She was ill, and never sang. I remain convinced that she is a far better singer than Christine could ever be, by her own effort, that is. Finally, the opera omits a significant character, someone known only as the Persian or, to O.G., the 'daroga' (some kind of Persian constable), who serves the function of relating the backstory behind O.G. to explain how, conceivably, he could be a real person, and not an enigmatic mystery of the Opera cellars. The Persian also narrates part of the story, where he and Raoul confront O.G., and also plays an important part in the conclusion where O.G.'s fate is uncovered. Yes, I know the introducing of such a character is a rather lame plot device ('the explainer'), but that probably wasn't a factor in him being left out of the opera. Most of you are familiar with the plot of the opera version of The Phantom of the Opera, but by observation alone it is unlikely that one would discern that Andrew Lloyd Webber has really taken much liberty with not just the characters but the entire chronological progress of the plot, or at least a significant part of it. You are probably familiar with how, in the 'second part' of the opera, Christine emerges from the Opera masquerade all miserable at O.G.'s appearance and, consequently, the hanging of yet another innocent, and is determined to visit her father's grave to find solace from her guilt and depression. Unknown to her, O.G. has followed her, as has Raoul (ever the concerned lover), whereupon the two men tussle at the grave over her. In fact, this scene should belong in the 'first part' of the opera, as it occurs directly after the first scene involving Christine taking on the role of the lead soprano for the first time, as she is emotionally distressed at being 'possessed' by O.G. at her first lead performance. At this point, Raoul and Christine are only acquaintances ... Raoul discerns that Christine is under some intense emotional pressure (she faints on stage, apparently) and also that she is being courted by someone else because he hears her talking to someone else. Raoul is an incredibly skilled eavesdropper, it seems ('You've been listening on me again, haven't you!'). Raoul's determination to free her from this frightening 'Angel of Music' is what eventually brings the pair together, while in the opera it is only at the grave scene in the second part that Raoul (even more dumed-down than he already is) finds out that there is 'someone else'. Andrew Lloyd Webber's interpretation of the text, being an opera to be performed and watched and all, has obviously left out many other aspects of the text in the interests of time (like Tom Bombadil, perhaps?), some of which I shall elaborate on, for your pleasure. First, there is the entire subplot involving André and Firmin, which I touched on earlier, as to their doubts regarding O.G., his habits (such as demanding a seat at Box Five in the Opera) causing too much inconvenience to be ignored. And he demands to be paid for Christine's music lessons, music lessons for someone who isn't even invited to play a lead role in the opera! Like the plague on the Egyptians, André and Firmin experience the consequences of not bending to O.G.'s will, Carlotta's disgrace and the fall of the chandelier being the only ones featured in the opera. Later on, the two owners get into a tussle with Madame Giry (Meg's mother), who is a confidant of O.G., over the money for O.G.'s 'pay', a farcical situation where they accuse each other of playing tricks on themselves, and providing an excellent counterplot to the main storyline. Other significant omissions are, naturally, the backstory behind Raoul and Christine's relationship, the explanation for the length of time which passes between the fall of the chandelier and the masquerade (Christine is put under house arrest by O.G., it seems), and the horrible tortures and obstacles which Raoul and the Persian go through in the hunt for O.G., which would necessitate the introduction of another character to the opera and further explanation of the backstory. It's not just the fear of getting strangled from behind! For that matter, O.G. kills only one person in the novel, Joseph Buquet, a screen-shifter who accidentally discovered the route to O.G.'s hideout in the Opera cellars, who is found dead at the beginning of the novel where his noose mysteriously disappears. The lasso itself is never used again, though it is mentioned several times later, in fear, and found in a corner of the torture chamber. For victims to put an end to their misery. That being said, while I don't encourage deviation from the original plot and design of the novel when producing a stage or screen adaptation, I recognise that in the interests of practicality it is impossible to reproduce everything to perfection, and I hesitate to pass judgement on whether the novel or the opera is better. Hey, Christine did sing well, even though the novel might not have necessarily stated that to be a fact. Needless to say, it is absolutely imperative that everyone understand that the famous opera, The Phantom of the Opera, is but a stage adaptation of an intriguing and original novel by Gaston Leroux, and it would be folly to claim an understanding of this story by watching the opera alone. As if the fact that it was produced by an American was not enough to render that blindingly obvious. Huh. So I have spent most of my time and space elaborating on how the opera is different from the novel. Well, talking about a time-space continuum, I shall proceed to pass whatever comments I have about the novel here. Plot-wise, the novel is beyond criticism as the story progresses with all the ebbs and flows of any regular piece of fiction, with its main plot and subplots constantly developing and evolving ... which is what good plot-based fiction should be like. The author presents his text as a pseudo-historian, similar in style to that of, oh say H.G. Wells, where he presents the events of the novel as a historical event, narrating it but not taking any part in it, apart from claiming to have interviewed the fictitious characters within. There is an interesting twist, however, as he uses his real name. Even H.G. Wells only ever described 'himself', in his writing, as 'Hubert George Wells' (he's Herbert George Wells, if you didn't already know that). Similarly, I cannot pass any criticism about the language, largely because it is a text translated by an American translator, and thus several aspects of speech normally used by Americans were immediately noticeable, the use of 'ain't', for example, and a great degree of informal language especially at the end of the novel, when O.G. is over and dealt with, and the other characters are discussing the events of recent history. Translations of other French authors, such as Victor Hugo or Alexandre Dumas, tend to be more rigid and straight-laced, with little banter or loss of composure ... which is why I describe The Phantom of the Opera as 'black humour'. Otherwise, the text is faultless, written in that same plain but meaningful language which is favoured in writing by translators (and obviously not by fanciful pretenders like yours truly). I ought to just pass my comments on the characters, seeing as to how this is one of the few texts I've read (on my own initiative) involving a large degree of romance. To me, Raoul and O.G. come across as sincere, but rather confused lovers (of Christine, obviously) who themselves aren't too sure of what they want and how to go about getting it. Raoul, like an earnest but impetuous child, does his best to be pleasant and loving to Christine, doing chivalrous things like fighting off the big bad opera ghost for her, for example, but often slips into the childish tendencies of a greenhorn, the way he breaks into senseless babbling when he is unsure of what to do next, or his willingness to do whatever it takes to safeguard his love, even though he doesn't even know what it takes in the first place! I have no idea whether these are stereotypically the traits of the lovesick, but they come across as rather foolish to me, and reinforces my belief that Raoul is younger than Christine, despite the social norms of lovers of the time (and this time, too, unfortunately). O.G., on the other hand, initially appears to have the stronger hand, as he forces Christine to love him both through rewards, in the form of his music lessons, and threats, in how he seems to exert an omnipotent influence throughout the Opera to work events to his will, and his seeming ability to punish as he pleases. The notion of O.G. being an oppressor, rather than a real lover (I wouldn't call Raoul much of a lover, unfortunately) is something which is greatly emphasised in the novel, rather than in the opera where he is portrayed as a hopeless romantic who is helplessly despised due to his appearance. In fact, the entire final scene, the 'chase' scene, involved O.G. forcing Christine to make a choice between the 'scorpion' and the 'grasshopper', two mechanisms connected to a host of gunpowder. To choose the scorpion would mean Christine would swear undying love for O.G. as his wife, and the gunpowder would be drenched, on the other hand, if Christine were to choose the grasshopper ... "And when it hops, it hops jolly high!" in the words of the text. And so would the Paris Opera House. This is totally unlike the opera, where the final scene is a confrontation and a battle of sorts between the two rivals, ending with the phantom's resignation and escape. Unfortunately, perhaps this 'chivalrous' ending might be preferable to the original, where O.G. is never really clear as to why he gave up his quest for Christine's heart, and to leave Raoul (and the Persian) unharmed despite having them in his power. He claims that all he wanted and needed was to know, and feel (well, that's men for you), that he was loved by someone despite his appearance, and again, the novel itself is unclear as to whether Christine genuinely had any affections for O.G., or was merely pretending to love O.G. (knowing his romantic nature) to get him off her back for good. Despite being in control, and having all that power, O.G. gave it all up just for tender words and the touch of a maiden. Hopelessly romantic, or just stupidly in love? Since I'm no fan or connoisseur romance, I'll leave that up to someone more acquainted with the genre to decide. While Christine might be the pivotal figure in the plot, more often than not she is merely driftwood being hopelessly washed along by the current of events. Like any other stereotypically dizzy soprano (I didn't make that up ...) she is perpetually at a loss, often forced to make choices against her own will ... if she has a will, for that matter. The only major decisions she makes, on her own part, are to visit her father's grave, and to elope with Raoul to escape O.G., despite the latter's claim to love her. Other times, she is being forced against her will, such as in the final choice between the scorpion and the grasshopper, or is simply being escorted, such as when she is with Raoul (in the opera, "All I Ask of You" is the song played here ... in fact, the scene takes place after the masquerade, when the pair are in a jovial mood, and not before the 'interval' and the collapse of the chandelier). Sigh. The stereotypical maidenly character, persistently being either sidelined or oppressed despite being regarded as the character upon which the entire plot revolves. But that's 19th century literature, and Gaston Leroux happens to be a man. As to the other characters ... André and Firmin, and Madame Giry have the role of providing the comic relief as the counterpart to a plot filled with mystery, fear and torture, and they certainly make an excellent job of it. As I already mentioned, Carlotta is portrayed as more of a human character, with human feelings and emotions, rather than the arrogant snob she is made out to be in the opera, such that when she suffers the disgrace of 'losing' her voice on stage she is seen more as a victim of O.G.'s merciless machinations, rather than getting her comeuppance for seeking dominance over the opera scene. The Persian, as is often the case with such 'explanatory' characters, is wafer-thin, he shares his expertise with Raoul ... such as pretending to hold a pistol to prevent O.G. from throwing the lasso over him (not because O.G. fears he has a gun, but because the lasso would loop over both neck and arm, and thus be easily dislodged and seized ... 'You might as well place the pistol in your boot') ... and also recounts O.G.'s past and how his experiences have made him out to be the character that he is, but himself contributes nothing to the plot before then, merely excused as a 'mysterious Oriental' trolling the passageways of the Opera House. I've already elaborated on how I do not approve of introducing characters merely for the purposes of 'explaining', as there's surely a better way, through the plot, or through other characters, to get such explaining done. The Phantom of the Opera, I feel, is best considered an introduction to the world of great French novels. It bears many of the aspects of similar novels, such as concentrating on the contemporary events of the 1800s, like the altercation between the Republic and the Empire, and also bears many 'stock characters' from similar novels, for example the Romantic protagonist (Jean Valjean, Edmund Dantes), the powerfully motivated and deeply misguided antagonist (Javert, Frollo), the helpless and pursued girl (Cosette, Esmerelda) and even the horribly disfigured outcast (Quasimodo, the Man in the Iron Mask). However, the great difference ... and a massive one, at that, is in length, for The Phantom of the Opera is a mere couple hundred pages long, while others reach nearly a thousand ... and in much smaller type, too! The fact that it has been made into a widely popularised opera makes it more accessible than some other pieces of work (um, sorry, but Disney adaptations can hardly be considered), which may be helpful in some places where the reader is 'lost', in Raoul's journey to the top or into the depths of the Opera House, for instance. Best of all, given the incredible amount of misinformation that has been injected into people's brains by the immense popularity of the edited opera, you can once again get that incredible psychological boost that comes out of knowing the truth while others remain trapped in deception and untruths. So, if you want to know more, read the novel. The real novel! Or, as a cheaper alternative, you could read my book review. But I shall endeavour to make it such that it isn't the easy way out! posted by Charlotte | 4:58 pm (0) comments Friday, May 14, 2004 If you're a FF maniac as much as I am, take a look at this amusing Flash movie for a rather innovative take on the concept of Final Fantasy. www.ffcompendium.com/misc/ffa+.swf The most incredible part of it is that they use Japanese voices, real Japanese voices like a movie, with English translations provided. Also featuring music from FFV, which has one of the best music ensemble of any in the series, and one from FFT, hooray! Not to mention an utterly corny and (hence) hilarious script. If you're bored, feel free to amuse yourself. It is more than 3MB large, due to the use of much music and voices, so if you're on a 56K modem be prepared to wait for a while for it to load up. posted by Charlotte | 4:38 pm (0) comments Thursday, May 13, 2004 I apologise most wholeheartedly for not being able, despite my motto of "updating everyday", to update for these past few days, even to write my story (in the irregular intervals by which I update it). I have been incapacitated by a most terrible illness which has confined me to my bed, distant from any conversation, entertainment or misadventure of any kind, and in the consequence provided many moments of heart-wrenching agony for myself. Nevertheless, in the process, I have kept myself amused by reading constantly and I have managed to complete The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum (yes, I know that he's American ...), hopefully an unabridged text of it, since it was 200+ pages of very large type interspersed with pictures, and it was picked up from the 'Youth' section of Marine Parade's library of fiction. I'm also on the last chapters of The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, which I happened to notice by chance in the newly-returned rack of Orchard Library, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone seeking an inroad into the massive texts of the great French novellists since it's written in a similar style, yet is many times shorter than its compatriots. Of that, I shall post a review, once I am done. I have concluded my work, at least for now, on my part of the as yet untitled chain story, and am returning to work on the grand piece of fiction which is whatever I have been writing on the internet thus far. So, be patient, and, if time should permit, I shall have a whole new chapter up shortly for your perusal. For as long as the blasted absurdity of the new blogger font does not confound me. posted by Charlotte | 4:00 pm (0) comments Monday, May 10, 2004 Good lard, they retooled the blogger editing screen? After having spent hours upon hours staring and writing within the old blogger screen, the new one just looks so ... weird. Because I judge the length of my chapters for my online scribblings by that little bar on the right, expect a drastic change in the length as I adapt to the very much different scroll bar. It shall take a while to get used to it ... preferably for as long as it takes for my eyes to recover from a digital whiteout. Um, nothing. Currently struggling with balancing back posts and a set of rewriting, so nothing new is happening. Be patient! posted by Charlotte | 4:58 pm (0) comments Sunday, May 09, 2004 Sunday. Hmm. Weekend. Hmm. Dull, dross and drab. But not this one, apparently, for it turns out that while the (same...old...) ORA Walk-a-jogathon (stupid name, no?) is being held, it appears that it's special for several reasons. For starters, it's held to specially commemmorate the final year of RJC's residence at Mount Sinai Drive, which was, originally, supposed to be last year. As a result, it's been a little more spruced-up, with more activities, events, and actual publicity in the news papers! Second, it breaks the pattern of cycling between the three Raffles schools (RI-RGS-RJC) by holding the event at the same location two years in a row, the reason having already been explained above. Most importantly, it's one which I actually had the time, and the bother, to go to. Perhaps I don't hold that same distaste for it, since I'm not under a 'voluntary' drive to collect as much as possible to fund that lamprey of an Old Rafflesians Association ... and I'm technically also part of it? That's open to discussion. The point being, is that I actually turned up at it to look around, perhaps to meet some teachers or some classmates which I haven't seen since, well, the A level results. I initially found a great degree of difficulty in convincing myself to go, if you have already seen my argument about the lack of any true loss about missing an otherwise 'significant' event. Exciting my interest, however, was, as advertised in the news papers and on the RJC website, the holding of a game show, "Singapore's Brainiest Rafflesian" (yeah, right ...) and the opening a time capsule which has been buried in a corner of the school for donkey's years, and which I don't ever recall ever visiting or even noticing. As a result, I concluded that while there was no loss from not going, there was similarly no loss from attending (since, as usual, I wasn't doing anything productive except avoiding work) and I resolved to visit the fair. Unfortunately, by that time, it was already 12pm ... while I was still at home. So much for effective decision making, eh? Anyway, I turned up, a little too late such that I was unable to catch my 'usual' lunch of noodles at Ghim Moh hawker centre, and far too late for anything of remotely edible quality to still be on sale, at a reasonable price, in the student and alumni-organised stalls in the canteen. After a bit of idling, or rather, an attempt to orient myself due to the tumult of there actually being more (far more ...) people present than I expected, I attended the gameshow being held at LT1 where, guess who was playing, but none other than my bespectacled nemesis himself. He must have been expecting a serious gameshow ... and it did seem that way, for the first half, until the final round of three contestants, one of which happened to be him, due to the seeming appearance of him actually being prepared to answer serious gameshow questions. And they started asking questions about Raffles ... RJC, RGS and RI. And 2/3 of the finalists happened to be from Chinese High ... hmm ... well. So much for the Raffles brand. Doesn't that indicate anything to you about the utter idiocy of the through-train system? By the way, the winner was a J1 student, who was the other participant from Chinese High. In the meantime, however, while I was watching the show, the time capsule buried beneath RJC, having already been unearthed earlier in the week, was opened for public viewing, and according to someone else, it contained things little more interesting than yearbooks, test papers and documents. I might be obsessed with academia and stuff, but even I have to say how incredibly boring that sounds. Let's hope that for the new time capsule, they put something more interesting inside, something like, oh say, Steven Chin? That would be nice. After the conclusion of the game show, I spent the rest of my time until the end of the entire event simply wandering, looking for teachers and friends. While, unsurprisingly, I found relatively few people from our year present, I had little better luck with the teachers. Most of them had either already left (it being past 2.30pm when I started my wanderings) or were engaged in conversation with older and far more worthy alumni. Mr. Purvis brought his family, and I managed to have quite a conversation with Edmund "Pebble" Kwok, since, having taken a few years off, he didn't have that many students on his tail. Rolly and Mr. Reeves (yes! the same!) had come earlier in the day, but left due to other commitments. However, I learned from Mr. Kwok that David Liew has left the teaching service after teaching solely art for just one term, probably to pursue his own career as an artist. Definitely a pity, for he was extremely knowledgeable about not just history but all sorts of facts and trivia, and he was a teacher whom, I feel, did not bring out the best in students, but forced them to bring out the best in themselves, with his laissez-faire mode of teaching, based more on consultation and argument than on merely lecturing. Most certainly, I would have liked to see him again, but unfortunately that was not to be. Other highlights included a fairground dunking pool, the one where you hit a target to sink a victim, which was set up at the corner of the netball court, where teachers (and students, though far less popular) could get dunked for charity ... er, I mean, for the Raffles fund. And, it just so happened that I was on time to catch the two most prominent figures in RJC getting a soaking, Principal Winston Hodge and his assistant (his vice?) Stephen Chin. Stephen Chin went first, though he didn't last long, for Mr. Hodge was impatient and, after a student failed to sink the victim, he hit, or rather, drove into the target with not a dinky tennis ball, but a dirty great coconut. I might not like the man very much, but that certainly wasn't fair to him, was it? Mr. Hodge went next, first taking an undue amount of time to assume the position of the victimised upon the dunking platform largely due to his size and the need to assure adequate safety in the process of his, er, victimisation. Next came several failed attempts to sink him, sometimes despite hitting the target spot on, attributed largely to his, um, weight. Finally, in the end, to rapturous applause he was drenched, and the crowd left happy and exuberant, unless they were slightly wet by the massive splash which ensued. Hehehe. Oh well, it was nice. I'm not saying that you should have went, if you didn't go, because I probably didn't consider, and didn't care about seeing you there anyway. But it was certainly interesting, especially to someone who hasn't seen an especially large degree of variety in her post-JC life thus far. Apparently, this very day happens to be Mother's Day, as well. Now, I'm sure that all of you know my stand on days which are commemmorated for no particularly good reason apart from some odd decree from ages past so I shall spare all of you the agony of seeing me lambast it here, largely because I can't be bothered to. However, Mother's Day, or Christmas or New Year or Chinese New Year or whatever wotsit day will come again next year, but the ORA event (because I don't like its name) will never be held at the Mount Sinai campus again, and so I believe in recording an event which finds (or, more appropriately, cannot find) a parallel in history, while as for something which repeats itself year after year ... why care? And it's not even a public holiday ... not that I find much joy in public holidays any more. None of my business. I confess, however, that it gives me great agony to call my mother my mother to her face. What could be the origin of such an undue amount of shame? I haven't the slightest notion. posted by Charlotte | 4:11 pm Disclaimer : The Slayers and Filia Ul Copt and all images thereof are the property of Hajime Kanzaka and Rui Araizumi. I don't own any of them, although if I had a choice I would want Filia ... ~//n_n\\7 |
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