(Name that pop singer from my adolescence.)
Anyway, it's a fitting explanation of my week. It's been kind of a rough one, for emotional, relationship-type reasons. In fact, I feel a little split in two: my career is taking off (have been feeling very good about my playing, have started a brass quintet, had my first gig in this city, have new ideas and opportunities) while my personal life seems to be slapping me in the face, due to unfortunate circumstances.
To be brief, in a sea of very pleasant friends, I have found two very important relationships here with two people that I find quite exceptional. That is, they are different than anyone I have ever met before, we have a great connection, I respect them intensely, they intrigue me, inspire me, support me, nourish me, make me laugh, invite me out and ask for my help. I've invested myself in them. They are ideal friendships, in a still foreign city where I really value them. I found out in the past two weeks that both of them are resigning from the orchestra and moving away. Far away. This week I have been, to put it simply, sad.
And then yesterday, my co-worker stops me and says, "So, week after next is two horns, I'd rather play it, want it off?" And I thought about it, looked at the calendar, realized that if I worked out a few kinks I could get a full 11 days off work without losing but a few hundred pesos in pay. Next thing I know, I have a fairly cheap flight booked to Minneapolis, and many plans for my time back. I feel completely energized, looking forward to getting my time with family and friends that I missed out on this summer, and grateful for the realization that upon making plans to be in Minneapolis I could email 15+ people that I really want to see there.
So I'm feeling much better. Thinking about friendships and people, I am reflecting that I have in fact picked a fairly transitive career. I may not live in the same place for more than a few years in the next twenty years, depending on how it goes. But I do think I will meet a vast amount of fascinating people along the way. I also am thinking that the really great ones you never lose touch with as I email my best friend from age four, family friends from the same era, a friend from junior high, friends, my horn teacher, and band director from high school, college friends and an old co-worker. I am truly blessed for the unique individuals I have let into my life along the way. (And gracias a dios for email!)
Here's to two more of them, and all the adventures on which they are about to embark.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Monday, September 11, 2006
Thoughts on Mexico: Mexicans are funny (in honor of Spot and LR)
It's pretty fantastic, actually. Two of my favorite horn players that I had the pleasure of playing with in a previous era are just beginning their "orchestra job in another country" experiences. Welcome to the club. Anyway, they have recently provided some interesting, chuckle-inducing lists (LR's, Spot's).
I'll admit it, I feel left out. I never made a list like that. So I'm going to now.
1) Do they really think that if they yell out "Hello lady!" in a thick accent as I bike by, I might think they speak English and stop to chat?
2) I don't want to buy a hammock. Ever. Stop asking.
3) Hot water is not included. I learned this the hard way, after renting a house, wondering why I couldn't get it to work, and learning that I had to actually purchase my own boiler, and pay to get it installed. Fortunately, hot water is also not exactly necessary in this climate, so I was able to hold off a few months on that.
4) Sí, se llama el corno. Never heard of it? Well, it's like a trumpet, except it's a spiral, and I put it on my knee, and the sound goes backwards. Still never heard of it?
5) Yucatan has a thing for pork, tortillas, beans, limes, habanero, avocado and salsa. Fortunately, I adore all of the above.
6) Spot, this place is the same, sooo dusty! Why is that? We get plenty of rain!
7) When it rains, you can't do aaannnyyything. So don't make plans for about 5 pm-8 pm, period.
8) LR, Humidity isn't all bad, but all humidity is. From www.weather.com today-- "Humidity-100 %" (I swear, I did not make that up for effect- click the link to the right if you don't believe me). It said nowhere in the ad for this job on musicalchairs "must be willing to sweat...all the time."
9) Yes, I'm from the US. No, I'm not studying here, I work here. How nice you think I speak Spanish so well. No, actually I don't have a boyfriend. And no, you cannot have my phone number. Or my email address. Or my address. Adios.
Whew, feeling much better. G'night!
I'll admit it, I feel left out. I never made a list like that. So I'm going to now.
1) Do they really think that if they yell out "Hello lady!" in a thick accent as I bike by, I might think they speak English and stop to chat?
2) I don't want to buy a hammock. Ever. Stop asking.
3) Hot water is not included. I learned this the hard way, after renting a house, wondering why I couldn't get it to work, and learning that I had to actually purchase my own boiler, and pay to get it installed. Fortunately, hot water is also not exactly necessary in this climate, so I was able to hold off a few months on that.
4) Sí, se llama el corno. Never heard of it? Well, it's like a trumpet, except it's a spiral, and I put it on my knee, and the sound goes backwards. Still never heard of it?
5) Yucatan has a thing for pork, tortillas, beans, limes, habanero, avocado and salsa. Fortunately, I adore all of the above.
6) Spot, this place is the same, sooo dusty! Why is that? We get plenty of rain!
7) When it rains, you can't do aaannnyyything. So don't make plans for about 5 pm-8 pm, period.
8) LR, Humidity isn't all bad, but all humidity is. From www.weather.com today-- "Humidity-100 %" (I swear, I did not make that up for effect- click the link to the right if you don't believe me). It said nowhere in the ad for this job on musicalchairs "must be willing to sweat...all the time."
9) Yes, I'm from the US. No, I'm not studying here, I work here. How nice you think I speak Spanish so well. No, actually I don't have a boyfriend. And no, you cannot have my phone number. Or my email address. Or my address. Adios.
Whew, feeling much better. G'night!
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
"Saving the World, One Apostrophe at a Time"
The title is my mother's slogan. :)
I was brought up to appreciate words. Talking about words is fascinating, funny, satisfying.
I like my Mom's comment on a previous post so much that I feel the need to upgrade it to actual-post status, and respond with some copy-and-pasted definitions.
Mom said: "I hate to be persnickety (do you think I spelled this right), but actually in this context I love the chance to be persnickety. I think you have misused the word "stint". I don't think one can have a stint of generosity, since stint implies the opposite--you know, stingy, tight, parsimonious. A stint of generosity is way too oxymoronic, like a deafening silence. I'm guessing it is not what you meant. I think you meant more along the lines of a short time, maybe a burst, perhaps an episode or flurry? Unless you really meant to imply that the generosity was in some way stingy likey maybe you should have gotten two mac books (just kidding of course). Isn't it weird how flammable and inflammable mean the same thing? Or that sanction can mean one thing and then the opposite? How about how if you "table" an idea, either you continue to talk about it, or you stop talking about it. Perhaps now would be a good time to table this discussion of the word "stint."
I say: It appears you are both right...and wrong, at the same time. This is what I found.
stint v.
1. vi to be ungenerous in offering, providing, or giving
2. vt to deny somebody something out of miserliness, or deny something of the self, usually in an act of sacrifice
3. vi to stop or halt (archaic)
n.
1. a fixed period of time spent on a particular task or job
2. limitation or restriction, especially one of time or amount
3. a pause or stoppage (archaic)
And so, you are right that in a sense, "stint" implies an ungenerosity, or a limitation, which I by no means intended. However, if we review the context...
"Well, to give credit where credit's due, my mom and step-dad gave me a new computer, in a stint of oh-so-much generosity."
...I used the word as a noun, so I actually meant what I wrote. A fixed period of time in which they were especially generous. Not that you aren't always generous, but that you aren't always buying me MacBooks.
In retrospect, perhaps burst, episode or flurry would have been more judicious. I also was considering "bout" but turns out that has a negative connotation as well.
Now, to use the archaic usage (n. #3), I think it's time to put a stint to this conversation.
per·snick·e·ty adj
1. overly attentive to detail and trivia
2. snobbish in terms of choice, and thus wanting or accepting only the finest things
3. necessitating precise, keen attention to details
Way to go. But come on, really, when's the last time you misspelled a word?
I was brought up to appreciate words. Talking about words is fascinating, funny, satisfying.
I like my Mom's comment on a previous post so much that I feel the need to upgrade it to actual-post status, and respond with some copy-and-pasted definitions.
Mom said: "I hate to be persnickety (do you think I spelled this right), but actually in this context I love the chance to be persnickety. I think you have misused the word "stint". I don't think one can have a stint of generosity, since stint implies the opposite--you know, stingy, tight, parsimonious. A stint of generosity is way too oxymoronic, like a deafening silence. I'm guessing it is not what you meant. I think you meant more along the lines of a short time, maybe a burst, perhaps an episode or flurry? Unless you really meant to imply that the generosity was in some way stingy likey maybe you should have gotten two mac books (just kidding of course). Isn't it weird how flammable and inflammable mean the same thing? Or that sanction can mean one thing and then the opposite? How about how if you "table" an idea, either you continue to talk about it, or you stop talking about it. Perhaps now would be a good time to table this discussion of the word "stint."
I say: It appears you are both right...and wrong, at the same time. This is what I found.
stint v.
1. vi to be ungenerous in offering, providing, or giving
2. vt to deny somebody something out of miserliness, or deny something of the self, usually in an act of sacrifice
3. vi to stop or halt (archaic)
n.
1. a fixed period of time spent on a particular task or job
2. limitation or restriction, especially one of time or amount
3. a pause or stoppage (archaic)
And so, you are right that in a sense, "stint" implies an ungenerosity, or a limitation, which I by no means intended. However, if we review the context...
"Well, to give credit where credit's due, my mom and step-dad gave me a new computer, in a stint of oh-so-much generosity."
...I used the word as a noun, so I actually meant what I wrote. A fixed period of time in which they were especially generous. Not that you aren't always generous, but that you aren't always buying me MacBooks.
In retrospect, perhaps burst, episode or flurry would have been more judicious. I also was considering "bout" but turns out that has a negative connotation as well.
Now, to use the archaic usage (n. #3), I think it's time to put a stint to this conversation.
per·snick·e·ty adj
1. overly attentive to detail and trivia
2. snobbish in terms of choice, and thus wanting or accepting only the finest things
3. necessitating precise, keen attention to details
Way to go. But come on, really, when's the last time you misspelled a word?
Monday, September 04, 2006
Anonymity Deemed Necessary
I get it now, why people use initials and links in blogs. Wouldn't want someone to google !$@##% and be directed to my humble and uncalled for opinions. Could harm my all too pristine reputation. So, if you need any clarifications, just ask. :)
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Ladies and Gentlemen, BIENVENIDOS to the Opening of the Sixth Season of the Orchestra!!!
The concert began with "Ficciones" by contemporary Mexican composer, ML. Nice piece, kind of abstract, but interesting, experimenting with colors and rhythmic complexity. Unfortunately, however, in my opinion, not an opener for any concert, much less a season.
We played the piece, and when we finished the audience DID NOT clap. I swear, no applause. So our conductor, rather than turning around to clarify that the piece indeed had ended (to the audience's credit, it WAS an ambiguous ending) chose to begin applauding himself, without actually turning around. So he started clapping, but the audience couldn't really tell, and there was a slow trickle of applause that eventually crescendoed to a medium-sized golf clap. The conductor had each principal wind player stand during this sort of mezzo forte applause and then walked off. The applause died down long before he got off stage.
How do you say AWKWARD in Spanish? (Side note: I have yet to find a truly satisfying translation for this word.)
Well, I was thinking, at least that's over, it can't get much worse...
The concert proceeded with Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto- great pianist, Mr. Brazil (actually his name!) and the audience seemed to forgive us for the previous blunder.
Intermission, string piece, all that was left was Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet-no potential problems there.
We tuned; the conductor returned to the stage and raised his arms towards the bassoons and clarinets to begin the piece. Then, the principal bassoonist stood up and walked off the stage. Wait, that's not supposed to happen...
Conductor looked stunned. Another awkward 15 seconds passed in which everyone just sort of waited for something to happen. Nothing did. The principal clarinetist shook his head and mouthed "No viene" (she's not coming) so the conductor motioned for Bassoon #2 to move over, and we began. Eight bars into it, the conductor stopped (!?!), turned to the audience, apologized, and half-explained what happened. Bassoon #2 went off stage to find Bassoon #1. We waited, trying to avoid eye contact for fear of either cracking up or crying, and then Bassoon #2 returned, without Bassoon #1, and confirmed that she wasn't coming back anytime soon. So, we started AGAIN, and proceeded to play the most unfocused, bizarre version of R + J I've experienced.
Turns out the bassoonist, who had been sick, felt severely ill at the last second, and simply couldn't play. No hard feelings against her, of course. I have a lot of respect for her and trust entirely that it must have been an extreme situation. I only wish it wasn't so hard to bounce back from something like that, as an orchestra, so our opening concert hadn't been a sort of circus.
Well, we hope for the best on Sunday...
¡Hasta la vista! (Get it?)
We played the piece, and when we finished the audience DID NOT clap. I swear, no applause. So our conductor, rather than turning around to clarify that the piece indeed had ended (to the audience's credit, it WAS an ambiguous ending) chose to begin applauding himself, without actually turning around. So he started clapping, but the audience couldn't really tell, and there was a slow trickle of applause that eventually crescendoed to a medium-sized golf clap. The conductor had each principal wind player stand during this sort of mezzo forte applause and then walked off. The applause died down long before he got off stage.
How do you say AWKWARD in Spanish? (Side note: I have yet to find a truly satisfying translation for this word.)
Well, I was thinking, at least that's over, it can't get much worse...
The concert proceeded with Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto- great pianist, Mr. Brazil (actually his name!) and the audience seemed to forgive us for the previous blunder.
Intermission, string piece, all that was left was Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet-no potential problems there.
We tuned; the conductor returned to the stage and raised his arms towards the bassoons and clarinets to begin the piece. Then, the principal bassoonist stood up and walked off the stage. Wait, that's not supposed to happen...
Conductor looked stunned. Another awkward 15 seconds passed in which everyone just sort of waited for something to happen. Nothing did. The principal clarinetist shook his head and mouthed "No viene" (she's not coming) so the conductor motioned for Bassoon #2 to move over, and we began. Eight bars into it, the conductor stopped (!?!), turned to the audience, apologized, and half-explained what happened. Bassoon #2 went off stage to find Bassoon #1. We waited, trying to avoid eye contact for fear of either cracking up or crying, and then Bassoon #2 returned, without Bassoon #1, and confirmed that she wasn't coming back anytime soon. So, we started AGAIN, and proceeded to play the most unfocused, bizarre version of R + J I've experienced.
Turns out the bassoonist, who had been sick, felt severely ill at the last second, and simply couldn't play. No hard feelings against her, of course. I have a lot of respect for her and trust entirely that it must have been an extreme situation. I only wish it wasn't so hard to bounce back from something like that, as an orchestra, so our opening concert hadn't been a sort of circus.
Well, we hope for the best on Sunday...
¡Hasta la vista! (Get it?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
