Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

So recently there's been a shitload of talk about same-sex marriage and adoption. Well, not 'talk' really. More like raging-self-righteous-high-minded-fire-spitting-angry-conflict. There are crazy Catholics quoting huge sections of Leviticus, gay-rights campaigners retaliating with sarcastic biting comments and the good guys preaching love.
What really sickens me about this whole debate is that some people are using it as an excuse to expound their homophobic views in the name of 'children's rights' and worse, God himself. Sure, we're "all entitled to our own opinions", yaddayaddayadda, but trying to pass off your own opinion as that of God is just disgusting. I admit, I don't know what the Big Man thinks about the whole thing - we chat and all, but he communicates in actions rather than words - but NEITHER DOES ANYONE ELSE. And no, the Bible cannot be taken entirely literally as God's word because it has been translated from ancient languages and who knows what's been lost in translation.
All that aside, the main message we're taught is that God loves us all, no matter what we've done or who we are. Thus, surely homosexuals are loved just as much as anyone else and trying to say that they will burn in hell for all eternity for behaving in  a way that feels natural to them makes me RAGE. All I want to say to those small-minded fucks: Keep your nasty little opinions to yourself and stop foisting them on others.
So then they start to spout statistics making out that all gays are the sex-crazed, perverted spawn of Satan. They say that these statistics prove without doubt that their views are incontrovertibly correct. Here I might point out that the Nazi's published statistics just like that about the Jewish people, and I think we'd all agree that they were very, very wrong. In that light, it's pretty easy to see that statistics can be doctored, misquoted and just simply made up on the spot, and cannot be taken as gospel truth.
So the purpose of this little rant was to express my opinion in a way that won't cause ferocious facebook fights featuring the ubiquitous keyboard warrior - those people who seem to spend their lives sitting in front of a computer, spoiling for an argument. I may be a young person with admittedly limited experience of the world, but I'm pretty adamant when it comes to this matter. Comments leading to intelligent discussion are always greatly appreciated though :)
Over and out.

The ceremony of innocence is drowned.

So I found this somewhere and seeing as I am procrastinating wildly I thought it would be fun to do it :)

Afternote: Turns out its actually pretty lame, but hey, nothing else to do.  

Asked someone to marry you.
guilty. i do it all the time.

Kissed one of your Facebook friends?
guilty 

Danced on a table in a bar?
innocent

Ever told a lie?
guilty

Had feelings for someone whom you can't have back?
guilty

Ever kissed someone of the same sex?
innocent

Kissed a picture?
 guilty 

Slept in until 5 PM?
 pfft guilty 

Fallen asleep at work/school?
guilty

Held a snake?
innocent

Been suspended from school?
guilty 

Worked at a fast food restaurant?
guilty

Stolen from a store?
guilty 

Been fired from a job?
guilty

Done something you regret?
guilty

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?
guilty

Caught a snowflake on your tongue?
innocent

Kissed in the rain?
innocent sadly

Sat on a roof top?
guilty. amelia calders rooftop in fact.

Sang in the shower?
guilty

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?
guilty

Shaved your head?
innocent thank god 

Slept naked?
guilty

Had a boxing membership?
innocent

Made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?
innocent i think 

Been in a band?
guilty

Shot a gun?
innocent

Donated Blood?
innocent

Eaten alligator meat?
innocent

Eaten cheesecake?
guilty

Still love someone you shouldn't?
guilty

Have/had a tattoo?
innocent

Liked someone, but will never tell who?
guilty

Been too honest?
guilty

Ruined a surprise?
guilty

  Erased someone in your friends list?
guilty 

Dressed in a woman's clothes (if you're a guy) or man's clothes (if you're a girl)? 

guilty

Been told that you're handsome or beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said?
guilty :)

Get totally drunk one night and you have an important exam tomorrow morning?
innocent

Let a total stranger treat you by paying your tricycle fare?
wtf is a tricycle fare?

Get so totally angry that you cried so hard?
guilty

Comments are always nice. 

"In opera, there is always too much singing."

So people often ask me why I like opera - and I can never, ever answer them. I find it sort of like trying to answer someone who asks why you like chocolate, or sunny days, or reading books.

I was always brought up in a household that flowed with music. I'd wake up to the strains of Puccini's La Boheme one morning and fall asleep watching our much loved Les Miserables DVD (Marius is such a fox.) 

I liked singing too, but I was ridiculously, painfully, pitifully shy (yes yes, hard to believe now) and wouldn't really sing for anyone except my dog. Then I had this thing about being cool (especially in years six and seven, how awkward to look back on those years now) and when I said I sang quite high I was always quick to add scornfully - 'Not opera though! Opera's gay!'. However, when my little brudda started working with Opera Australia things changed hugely. 

The first opera I ever saw on stage was Wagner's Tannhäuser (heavy stuff hey?) and to be perfectly honest, although I was pretty captivated by the enormity of the whole thing (and the sexy dancing/acrobatics scene at the beginning ;), I found it slightly on the boring side... until Tannhäuser gives his gut-wrenching, despairing aria at the end. To use that time honoured cliche - I fell in love. 

I didn't really think about it that much though until the next summer, when my brother was involved with another one. Bizet's Carmen. It was a sunny summers day at the Opera House with buttery heat leaking through the windows and that scent of culture and prestige that drifts out of the House and along the Quay was present when I really changed my tune. (Please note the pun.) 

A riveting tale of love, lust and murder in the burning heat of a Spanish summer, set to a lush score and boasting the talents of Australia's own Rosario La Spina was the perfect continuation to my operatic education. It was soon after this that I started having singing lessons and I've never looked back. (Please forgive the many cliches in this post, my brain is addled tonight.) 

I've seen lots more operas since that fateful summer, at venues as different as the Opera House to the grimy (but incredibly memorable) Cleveland Street Theatre in Surry Hills. And every one of them have given me cause to strengthen my resolve to eventually sing on those stages myself. 

So the answer really is, I honestly don't know why I love opera - but thank God that I do. 

"I have always believed that opera is a planet where the muses work together, join hands and celebrate all the arts. "

Rant Numero Uno

Tonight is going just exactly how Sunday nights have gone for me for the last two years. I know perfectly well that I have two assignments due tomorrow (neither of which have I started), I have a piano piece to learn for Tuesday (Pachelbel's Canon, Sixth Grade, just in case anyone is desperate to know), Malika's part of Lakme's Flower Duet to memorise and my classical singing diploma coming up sometime soon. My room's a mess, I haven't done any homework for weeks, my eyes feel as though they're about to drop out of their sockets with fatigue. I'm so incredibly screwed. 

And yet I'm sitting here writing a blog that no-one will read. This is what my life has been reduced to. 

ANYWAY, I need to rant about something in this paragraph (I've decided I might as well let off my steam somewhere in cyberspace rather than constantly whingeing to my friends and family members) and my first topic will be rejection. 

Rejection makes me feel like this. 

• Worthless
• Unloved
• Betrayed
• Ridiculed 
• Manically depressive 
• Lonely
• And just plain miserable.

And yet my career choice means that after school I will be constantly feeling like this. I don't ask myself if its worth it because I'm certain that it is. But then maybe if I did ask myself, I wouldn't be so sure. 

Footnote: Dear Dannie Ward, I don't know how you write such effortless blogs. I can't say anything I want to say just in case someone might possibly read this. I don't want anyone to know what I'm thinking.