Monday, December 17, 2007
This Is What I've Been Thinking About Lately
Responsibility begins with the willingness to be cause in the matter of one's life. Ultimately, it is a context in which one chooses to live.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
No, No, This One ACTUALLY Takes the Biscuit
I have yet to understand the expectations for a classical music concert in Mexico.
After being a professional musician for going on three years, my expectations have lowered significantly from my days of an idealistic student. Now, when I go to a professional orchestra’s concert, pretty much the only thing I expect is to hear the pieces played without stopping. Everything else is up to chance. But I at least expect them to get through the damn piece from start to finish without any interruption.
These expectations have been disappointed twice now. The first time I was playing.
I put the responsibility of “not stopping” on the conductor. As long as he keeps flapping his arms, chances are at least 75% of the orchestra will keep trudging along, no matter what happens, and they’ll squeak through to the end. Of course, if the conductor cuts the orchestra off, they will stop playing, like the obedient followers of authority they are. It’s simple really.
Last night I attended this orchestra’s (if you bother to read this article, you'll conjure up another conversation about expectations, that is, that you can't have them for newspapers in Mexico...) performance of Petrushka. I was looking forward to the performance for a few reasons, and dreading it for a few others. Firstly, I had spent the week getting to know and playing with the members of this quintet, also the principal brass players in the orchestra. I knew that if all else failed, these guys would pull through. Also, I’ve been invited to play Mahler’s 1st Symphony with the group in two weeks, so I was excited for the opportunity to hear the orchestra in performance a few weeks before my first rehearsal with them.
I was, however, in sheer terror of a few artistic choices. In order to make the piece more accessible, the artistic director had decided to coordinate the performance of the piece with a video of the original performance of the ballet. While an interesting idea, in reality, the logistical nightmare sort of took the fun out of it. In order to coordinate the music with the on-screen dancing, the conductor had to time his orchestra’s piece perfectly to the recording of the orchestra playing in the video. This required him to conduct one of the most challenging ensemble pieces in the repertoire WITH HEADPHONES. I was already unimpressed.
It was obvious in the dress rehearsal that the concert was not just going to be the opposite of making music in the present, but basically a train-wreck. If the pianist was slightly behind, so what, he had to charge ahead with the tempo of the recorded pianist. If the flautist dropped a beat, well, there was no adjusting.
As I said to the brass guys before the show, “Oh man, anything could happen with this tonight!” and as they said to me, “Oh yes, and anything WILL happen.”
I didn’t know how spot on they were.
Everything began more or less as planned and continued along “smoothly” until about ¾ the way through when the video screen just went blue. I, personally, was thrilled, since I took it to mean the recording in the maestro’s ears was silenced as well. The ensemble immediately got better, the energy heightened. I started to really get pulled into the music.
This glimmer of hope lasted for about 5 minutes, until, in the middle of a phrase, the conductor STOPPED THE ORCHESTRA. Bam. There goes my chance of my one expectation being fulfilled.
He turned around, apologized to the audience for the technical difficulty, and begged for their forgiveness and patience while they worked out the glitch, in order to finish off the piece with the video.
I was devastated. Just when I was starting to really enjoy it, he stopped, to give priority to my least favorite part of the project.
After a bit of fumbling around, said conductor announced that unfortunately, it appeared impossible to start the video and recording in the middle of the piece. He then proceeded to GIVE THE AUDIENCE 2 OPTIONS.
1) Hear the rest of the piece without video.
2) Start the piece over with video.
Besides the hilariousness of having the audience vote on how to solve a serious problem (it’s sort of like a bizarre mixture of an orchestra concert and Family Feud!) I also really enjoyed the priceless look on all the brass players’ faces at the thought of starting over, after already playing a dress rehearsal that morning, and an almost complete run.
Luckily the audience voted (or the conductor interpreted various mumbles) for option 1.
They started at part 4, and continued without event.
I don’t get it- what’s going on in the head of the man on the podium? Should not the flow of the music, the inertia of a great work, be enough to make it obvious that stopping in the middle is simply not an option???
But the thing I found even more flabbergasting was that the majority of audience members and performers hardly seemed phased afterwards. I would say, “Can you believe what happened?!?” and they would say, “What?” and I’d say, “When the conductor stopped?!?” and they would say, “Oh, yeah, that” and throw in a little giggle probably just to humor me. Why weren’t people more disturbed by this? Is this a Mexican thing?
It’s true, it’s 2007, and classical music is changing. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d just like to hear a piece played the good-old-all-the-way-through-without-stopping-in-a-performance way.
After being a professional musician for going on three years, my expectations have lowered significantly from my days of an idealistic student. Now, when I go to a professional orchestra’s concert, pretty much the only thing I expect is to hear the pieces played without stopping. Everything else is up to chance. But I at least expect them to get through the damn piece from start to finish without any interruption.
These expectations have been disappointed twice now. The first time I was playing.
I put the responsibility of “not stopping” on the conductor. As long as he keeps flapping his arms, chances are at least 75% of the orchestra will keep trudging along, no matter what happens, and they’ll squeak through to the end. Of course, if the conductor cuts the orchestra off, they will stop playing, like the obedient followers of authority they are. It’s simple really.
Last night I attended this orchestra’s (if you bother to read this article, you'll conjure up another conversation about expectations, that is, that you can't have them for newspapers in Mexico...) performance of Petrushka. I was looking forward to the performance for a few reasons, and dreading it for a few others. Firstly, I had spent the week getting to know and playing with the members of this quintet, also the principal brass players in the orchestra. I knew that if all else failed, these guys would pull through. Also, I’ve been invited to play Mahler’s 1st Symphony with the group in two weeks, so I was excited for the opportunity to hear the orchestra in performance a few weeks before my first rehearsal with them.
I was, however, in sheer terror of a few artistic choices. In order to make the piece more accessible, the artistic director had decided to coordinate the performance of the piece with a video of the original performance of the ballet. While an interesting idea, in reality, the logistical nightmare sort of took the fun out of it. In order to coordinate the music with the on-screen dancing, the conductor had to time his orchestra’s piece perfectly to the recording of the orchestra playing in the video. This required him to conduct one of the most challenging ensemble pieces in the repertoire WITH HEADPHONES. I was already unimpressed.
It was obvious in the dress rehearsal that the concert was not just going to be the opposite of making music in the present, but basically a train-wreck. If the pianist was slightly behind, so what, he had to charge ahead with the tempo of the recorded pianist. If the flautist dropped a beat, well, there was no adjusting.
As I said to the brass guys before the show, “Oh man, anything could happen with this tonight!” and as they said to me, “Oh yes, and anything WILL happen.”
I didn’t know how spot on they were.
Everything began more or less as planned and continued along “smoothly” until about ¾ the way through when the video screen just went blue. I, personally, was thrilled, since I took it to mean the recording in the maestro’s ears was silenced as well. The ensemble immediately got better, the energy heightened. I started to really get pulled into the music.
This glimmer of hope lasted for about 5 minutes, until, in the middle of a phrase, the conductor STOPPED THE ORCHESTRA. Bam. There goes my chance of my one expectation being fulfilled.
He turned around, apologized to the audience for the technical difficulty, and begged for their forgiveness and patience while they worked out the glitch, in order to finish off the piece with the video.
I was devastated. Just when I was starting to really enjoy it, he stopped, to give priority to my least favorite part of the project.
After a bit of fumbling around, said conductor announced that unfortunately, it appeared impossible to start the video and recording in the middle of the piece. He then proceeded to GIVE THE AUDIENCE 2 OPTIONS.
1) Hear the rest of the piece without video.
2) Start the piece over with video.
Besides the hilariousness of having the audience vote on how to solve a serious problem (it’s sort of like a bizarre mixture of an orchestra concert and Family Feud!) I also really enjoyed the priceless look on all the brass players’ faces at the thought of starting over, after already playing a dress rehearsal that morning, and an almost complete run.
Luckily the audience voted (or the conductor interpreted various mumbles) for option 1.
They started at part 4, and continued without event.
I don’t get it- what’s going on in the head of the man on the podium? Should not the flow of the music, the inertia of a great work, be enough to make it obvious that stopping in the middle is simply not an option???
But the thing I found even more flabbergasting was that the majority of audience members and performers hardly seemed phased afterwards. I would say, “Can you believe what happened?!?” and they would say, “What?” and I’d say, “When the conductor stopped?!?” and they would say, “Oh, yeah, that” and throw in a little giggle probably just to humor me. Why weren’t people more disturbed by this? Is this a Mexican thing?
It’s true, it’s 2007, and classical music is changing. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d just like to hear a piece played the good-old-all-the-way-through-without-stopping-in-a-performance way.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Only in Mexico...
...could I live this way.
The lifestyle I took on when I quit a few weeks ago (has it only been a few weeks? Seems like a lifetime...) is far from typical. Come to think of it, it's quite bizarre. Introducing myself is strange...when people ask me where I live, I have to stumble around, and ultimately say, "I DON'T KNOW." THAT is bizarre.
That's right, I'm home-less (and rent-less!) and trusting in the world and people I haven't met yet to get me through. So far, it's working.
But when I consider it closely, I think I realized the real reason I could take the risks I've chosen to take...I live in Mexico. Not only does that mean real chances for decent horn players pretty much wherever you go, but it means a level of generosity of which before I was sub-consciously aware, and now am fully astounded by.
Hospitality in this country is at another level...not only are Mexican people so incredibly open with their homes, their cars, their time, and their cooking, but it seems that foreigners living in Mexico take on these characteristics as well. I don't know what I would do without them! (And there's this guy in South Dakota that was pretty darn hospitable as well...)
So far on this journey I've crashed in the houses of four different friends, new and old, and had offers from about eight others along the way. I've had people drive a total of hours out of their way to pick me up or drop me off. I've had people cook for me, lend me towels, let me use their washer and dryer, take me to the grocery store, and tolerate my long tones in their presence. All of that, and they somehow leave me feeling not like an intruder, but quite the opposite, like they are happy to do so. There is a sincerity to it all that I find quite touching.
I even had someone offer me a place to stay for the entire month of December. "Really, it's no problem."
?!?!
The coolest thing about receiving generosity such as this, is that it makes me want to give. Not to "return the favor" necessarily (I've long since overcome the very American impulse to break even with favors) but to pass it on. I'm envisioning a house of my own some day, with a guest room that's always occupied. Helping out friends of friends, broke college students, freelancing musicians (!) or whatever comes up. Having open doors and cooking good breakfasts for practically strangers and just knowing they appreciate it as much as I do right now.
I have no idea what lies in my future, near or far, but I hope I can work in some of that along the way.
The lifestyle I took on when I quit a few weeks ago (has it only been a few weeks? Seems like a lifetime...) is far from typical. Come to think of it, it's quite bizarre. Introducing myself is strange...when people ask me where I live, I have to stumble around, and ultimately say, "I DON'T KNOW." THAT is bizarre.
That's right, I'm home-less (and rent-less!) and trusting in the world and people I haven't met yet to get me through. So far, it's working.
But when I consider it closely, I think I realized the real reason I could take the risks I've chosen to take...I live in Mexico. Not only does that mean real chances for decent horn players pretty much wherever you go, but it means a level of generosity of which before I was sub-consciously aware, and now am fully astounded by.
Hospitality in this country is at another level...not only are Mexican people so incredibly open with their homes, their cars, their time, and their cooking, but it seems that foreigners living in Mexico take on these characteristics as well. I don't know what I would do without them! (And there's this guy in South Dakota that was pretty darn hospitable as well...)
So far on this journey I've crashed in the houses of four different friends, new and old, and had offers from about eight others along the way. I've had people drive a total of hours out of their way to pick me up or drop me off. I've had people cook for me, lend me towels, let me use their washer and dryer, take me to the grocery store, and tolerate my long tones in their presence. All of that, and they somehow leave me feeling not like an intruder, but quite the opposite, like they are happy to do so. There is a sincerity to it all that I find quite touching.
I even had someone offer me a place to stay for the entire month of December. "Really, it's no problem."
?!?!
The coolest thing about receiving generosity such as this, is that it makes me want to give. Not to "return the favor" necessarily (I've long since overcome the very American impulse to break even with favors) but to pass it on. I'm envisioning a house of my own some day, with a guest room that's always occupied. Helping out friends of friends, broke college students, freelancing musicians (!) or whatever comes up. Having open doors and cooking good breakfasts for practically strangers and just knowing they appreciate it as much as I do right now.
I have no idea what lies in my future, near or far, but I hope I can work in some of that along the way.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
It’s An Absolutely Miniscule World After All
All right, enough is enough.
When in August I was drinking a beer with a new acquaintance in Oaxaca, and we discovered that we had a non-musician friend in common, and that, oh my gosh, I was sitting across from the oboist I had sent an email to 4 years ago inquiring about orchestras in Mexico!, that was a pretty crazy coincidence.
And when I got back to work, and my colleague JD informed me that he had a met a violinist on Isla Holbox who had met me that same night of the first coincidence in Oaxaca, that was a complicated chain of contacts.
And when I went to Xalapa take lessons with a great teacher I had met in Oaxaca, and our morning lesson was interrupted by this kid, and I turned around, and it was an old friend from YOA who I hadn’t seen in three years, and that same friend turned out to be the son of the teacher I was taking the lessons from, that was an unbelievable happenstance.
And when this same son took me with him to meet the conductor of his orchestra, as he’s looking for a horn player, and as we were waiting in his office the personnel manager of the orchestra turned around and said, “Oh my goodness! Claire!” because he was also an old friend from YOA, that was an unexpected bonus.
And last Monday in the Mexico City airport, while I was stressing out about the person who’s house I was supposed to stay at not answering his phone, when I ran into a friend on his way to play in Yucatan, and we had a coffee and then he delivered all these things I had to get to Yucatan for me, that was a lucky break.
But this, this is the last straw. I just ran into LC, former concertmaster and very good friend of mine in Yucatan. HE LIVES IN SPAIN. I was waiting to board a plane to Mazatlan at gate 24. His flight came in from Venezuela at the exact same gate, he was on his way home. This is a guy who is super busy, always flying from interesting engagement to lucrative gig, rarely has time to answer emails, and I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see him again. And I ran into him in the airport!!! We got to catch up for a good 15 minutes, which is more than I ever thought I’d get to see him in the next who-knows-how-many-years. It’s been a year since we’ve seen each other, and it will probably be another 5, except with the way the world has been for me lately, maybe I lower that to only one more year after all.
Seriously, what is going on here?? Is somebody messing with me? Am I the protagonist in something like The Truman Show? Is the world shrinking? Are my shakras aligned? My moons in Saturn? Does anyone have an explanation?
The only disadvantage to this very exciting pattern of chance-meetings is that I’m afraid I’m starting to get used to it. Take it for granted. As if every time I walk into an airport or a music school I will expect to stumble across an old friend or maybe even the very person I had been meaning to call.
But the way life is going lately, anything is possible.
When in August I was drinking a beer with a new acquaintance in Oaxaca, and we discovered that we had a non-musician friend in common, and that, oh my gosh, I was sitting across from the oboist I had sent an email to 4 years ago inquiring about orchestras in Mexico!, that was a pretty crazy coincidence.
And when I got back to work, and my colleague JD informed me that he had a met a violinist on Isla Holbox who had met me that same night of the first coincidence in Oaxaca, that was a complicated chain of contacts.
And when I went to Xalapa take lessons with a great teacher I had met in Oaxaca, and our morning lesson was interrupted by this kid, and I turned around, and it was an old friend from YOA who I hadn’t seen in three years, and that same friend turned out to be the son of the teacher I was taking the lessons from, that was an unbelievable happenstance.
And when this same son took me with him to meet the conductor of his orchestra, as he’s looking for a horn player, and as we were waiting in his office the personnel manager of the orchestra turned around and said, “Oh my goodness! Claire!” because he was also an old friend from YOA, that was an unexpected bonus.
And last Monday in the Mexico City airport, while I was stressing out about the person who’s house I was supposed to stay at not answering his phone, when I ran into a friend on his way to play in Yucatan, and we had a coffee and then he delivered all these things I had to get to Yucatan for me, that was a lucky break.
But this, this is the last straw. I just ran into LC, former concertmaster and very good friend of mine in Yucatan. HE LIVES IN SPAIN. I was waiting to board a plane to Mazatlan at gate 24. His flight came in from Venezuela at the exact same gate, he was on his way home. This is a guy who is super busy, always flying from interesting engagement to lucrative gig, rarely has time to answer emails, and I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see him again. And I ran into him in the airport!!! We got to catch up for a good 15 minutes, which is more than I ever thought I’d get to see him in the next who-knows-how-many-years. It’s been a year since we’ve seen each other, and it will probably be another 5, except with the way the world has been for me lately, maybe I lower that to only one more year after all.
Seriously, what is going on here?? Is somebody messing with me? Am I the protagonist in something like The Truman Show? Is the world shrinking? Are my shakras aligned? My moons in Saturn? Does anyone have an explanation?
The only disadvantage to this very exciting pattern of chance-meetings is that I’m afraid I’m starting to get used to it. Take it for granted. As if every time I walk into an airport or a music school I will expect to stumble across an old friend or maybe even the very person I had been meaning to call.
But the way life is going lately, anything is possible.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Engaged and Expecting
Calm down, I haven’t fallen for a young Acapulcan and decided to finally settle down (although there are many attractive guys in this particular orchestra…),
But if I fooled any of you for a second, that title was worth it.
I have, however, been thinking a lot about the power of engagement and the power of expectations.
Engaged:
I’ve had a number of experiences in the last few months in which I “should have” been nervous. Difficult works performed in rooms full of talented, possibly judgmental, colleagues. In some of these instances I have been incredibly nervous. In others, hardly at all. The difference? In the latter, I have been so fully engaged in the music, that I haven’t had it in me to be nervous. Those experiences have been really sensational. Francaix Quintet with a really fantastic Wind Quintet at Madeline Island Chamber Music Camp. Mozart’s Gran Partita at Instrumenta de Oaxaca. Beethoven’s Third Symphony with the South Dakota Symphony. And my first rehearsal playing principal horn in a long time here.
When I’m really involved in what’s happening in the music, in what I am creating, in how I want to speak the music, there is no room for nerves. It’s like DH used to always say, “You simply can’t perform and evaluate at the same time.” And when you are not evaluating, you are not nervous. And when you are really performing, your whole mind and body are fully engaged in that act, nothing more.
That’s what makes auditioning difficult, because you are not surrounded by other musical influences (such as melody, sometimes) to keep you engaged. But, when it really comes down to it, it’s up to only me to be engaged musically. And I can do that whether I’m playing a whole note in my house or a solo with the best orchestra in the world.
That’s what I’m committing to expect of myself.
Expectations:
I’ve been reminded this week about the power of expectations. I arrived in Acapulco Tuesday night, expecting a really bad hotel room, since the reputation of this orchestra is not the best. Sure enough, it was away from the water, slightly run down, and the elevator didn’t work. I finally got to my room, desperate to get the horn on my face for a little bit of time that day, to find a steaming hot space, and no AC in sight. Lovely.
I threw open the door to the balcony (it’s not as glamorous as it sounds) and stood with one foot out the door (a good metaphor for my week here) and did some long tones. Sweating like a gring with a fever (turns out I actually was coming down wth something). Lip slurs. Worse. Breathing exercises. How could this room not have AC?!?! I put the horn down, switched on some lights, and looked around the room. Oh wait, there’s the knob that says fan, with your choice of degree. Click=air. Good.
It just goes to show- my expectations were so low that I didn’t even find the AC for a good half hour, when I needed it most.
My expectations of the orchestra were low too, and in this case that was powerfully helpful. Because the orchestra really isn’t so bad. But that’s still a good attitude to have when you are playing principal-that you are better than everyone around you, even though it’s not true at all. It’s all just a mind game.
So this week has been a pleasant surprise- air conditioning and a decent orchestra. Excellent.
I accepted the job, to start in December. But the conductor informed me that he couldn’t wait just 5 weeks for me to arrive. That seems strange to me, considering they offered me the job, and as far as I know, they don’t have anyone on the “waiting list.” But perhaps that is the playing-principal-mind-game going to my head.
I’m not expecting this to be the last conversation we have about this.
I also wasn’t expecting to arrive in Acapulco with a horribly sore throat, causing me to spend my three days here sleeping/watching TV in my hotel room. But it’s been good for me- I’ve caught up on my rest, and the re-runs of Gilmore Girls, Heartland, Smallville and The OC have reminded me why I gave up watching TV 7 years ago.
Except for ER, I still love ER.
Expect an update soon…more engagements to come!
But if I fooled any of you for a second, that title was worth it.
I have, however, been thinking a lot about the power of engagement and the power of expectations.
Engaged:
I’ve had a number of experiences in the last few months in which I “should have” been nervous. Difficult works performed in rooms full of talented, possibly judgmental, colleagues. In some of these instances I have been incredibly nervous. In others, hardly at all. The difference? In the latter, I have been so fully engaged in the music, that I haven’t had it in me to be nervous. Those experiences have been really sensational. Francaix Quintet with a really fantastic Wind Quintet at Madeline Island Chamber Music Camp. Mozart’s Gran Partita at Instrumenta de Oaxaca. Beethoven’s Third Symphony with the South Dakota Symphony. And my first rehearsal playing principal horn in a long time here.
When I’m really involved in what’s happening in the music, in what I am creating, in how I want to speak the music, there is no room for nerves. It’s like DH used to always say, “You simply can’t perform and evaluate at the same time.” And when you are not evaluating, you are not nervous. And when you are really performing, your whole mind and body are fully engaged in that act, nothing more.
That’s what makes auditioning difficult, because you are not surrounded by other musical influences (such as melody, sometimes) to keep you engaged. But, when it really comes down to it, it’s up to only me to be engaged musically. And I can do that whether I’m playing a whole note in my house or a solo with the best orchestra in the world.
That’s what I’m committing to expect of myself.
Expectations:
I’ve been reminded this week about the power of expectations. I arrived in Acapulco Tuesday night, expecting a really bad hotel room, since the reputation of this orchestra is not the best. Sure enough, it was away from the water, slightly run down, and the elevator didn’t work. I finally got to my room, desperate to get the horn on my face for a little bit of time that day, to find a steaming hot space, and no AC in sight. Lovely.
I threw open the door to the balcony (it’s not as glamorous as it sounds) and stood with one foot out the door (a good metaphor for my week here) and did some long tones. Sweating like a gring with a fever (turns out I actually was coming down wth something). Lip slurs. Worse. Breathing exercises. How could this room not have AC?!?! I put the horn down, switched on some lights, and looked around the room. Oh wait, there’s the knob that says fan, with your choice of degree. Click=air. Good.
It just goes to show- my expectations were so low that I didn’t even find the AC for a good half hour, when I needed it most.
My expectations of the orchestra were low too, and in this case that was powerfully helpful. Because the orchestra really isn’t so bad. But that’s still a good attitude to have when you are playing principal-that you are better than everyone around you, even though it’s not true at all. It’s all just a mind game.
So this week has been a pleasant surprise- air conditioning and a decent orchestra. Excellent.
I accepted the job, to start in December. But the conductor informed me that he couldn’t wait just 5 weeks for me to arrive. That seems strange to me, considering they offered me the job, and as far as I know, they don’t have anyone on the “waiting list.” But perhaps that is the playing-principal-mind-game going to my head.
I’m not expecting this to be the last conversation we have about this.
I also wasn’t expecting to arrive in Acapulco with a horribly sore throat, causing me to spend my three days here sleeping/watching TV in my hotel room. But it’s been good for me- I’ve caught up on my rest, and the re-runs of Gilmore Girls, Heartland, Smallville and The OC have reminded me why I gave up watching TV 7 years ago.
Except for ER, I still love ER.
Expect an update soon…more engagements to come!
Monday, October 08, 2007
Exactly 140 Pounds
Did you know a bathrobe weighs 2 pounds? Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets- 1.5. The music I deemed essential to bring with me for the next month, plus all Norway grant application materials-9 pounds. Scores to Beethoven’s Symphonies 4-6 and Complete Piano Concertos- 5 pounds. This purse I bought in Chiapas- 2.5.
I was trying extremely hard last night to make one of my suitcases under 50 pounds. I felt I left sooo many things out of it. I knew one of them would be overweight, but I really thought the one would come in under 50. I get to the airport this morning…
…64 pounds.
So much for that.
I proceeded to transfer as many things from the 64-pound-er to the other suitcase, in order to only have to pay the overweight fee for one of the bags. The Continental agent was kind enough to let me keep the suitcase on the scale, so I could see when it reached exactly 50 pounds (hence knowing the exact weights of some of my favorite items). It wasn’t that difficult, really.
Then, when I put the other suitcase up on the scale…92 pounds. Oofta.
“Oh…este…the limit is 70 pounds.” “What? You didn’t tell me that. Lovely.”
I proceeded to transfer all the things I had just transferred back into the other suitcase, using quitting my job as justification for coughing up the double excess baggage fees.
What I don’t understand is why they even make suitcases that you can fit more than 50 pounds worth of stuff in. It’s infuriating! Deceptive! Cruel.
My mind started to run.
“How in the world am I going to shave off 14 pounds for the month ahead?? I could put some music in my horn case, which I carry with me. I was planning on leaving one pair of jeans at home, and wearing the other one when I travel. The Neruda is going to have to stay at home, even though I usually take it everywhere, since you never know when it might come in handy. I guess I could leave the purse too. But I’m also going to acquire Norwegian textbooks, a coffee mug, and who knows what else. I don’t think it adds up.
The items facing the most competition are clogs vs. running shoes, Maxime Alphonse vs. Kopprasch, and black skirt vs. black pants. As I learned this morning, every little bit counts.
Maybe I could find a lighter suitcase…?”
Despite the inner monologue, I had not completely forgotten the math skills I acquired in high school. 50+20=70 (I could only transfer 20 pounds.) 92-20=72 (The ultimate weight of the other suitcase.) 72 > 70 (One item simply had to go.)
I threw away the bathrobe. I don't know why I ever brought that stupid thing to the Yucatan in the first place.
I was trying extremely hard last night to make one of my suitcases under 50 pounds. I felt I left sooo many things out of it. I knew one of them would be overweight, but I really thought the one would come in under 50. I get to the airport this morning…
…64 pounds.
So much for that.
I proceeded to transfer as many things from the 64-pound-er to the other suitcase, in order to only have to pay the overweight fee for one of the bags. The Continental agent was kind enough to let me keep the suitcase on the scale, so I could see when it reached exactly 50 pounds (hence knowing the exact weights of some of my favorite items). It wasn’t that difficult, really.
Then, when I put the other suitcase up on the scale…92 pounds. Oofta.
“Oh…este…the limit is 70 pounds.” “What? You didn’t tell me that. Lovely.”
I proceeded to transfer all the things I had just transferred back into the other suitcase, using quitting my job as justification for coughing up the double excess baggage fees.
What I don’t understand is why they even make suitcases that you can fit more than 50 pounds worth of stuff in. It’s infuriating! Deceptive! Cruel.
My mind started to run.
“How in the world am I going to shave off 14 pounds for the month ahead?? I could put some music in my horn case, which I carry with me. I was planning on leaving one pair of jeans at home, and wearing the other one when I travel. The Neruda is going to have to stay at home, even though I usually take it everywhere, since you never know when it might come in handy. I guess I could leave the purse too. But I’m also going to acquire Norwegian textbooks, a coffee mug, and who knows what else. I don’t think it adds up.
The items facing the most competition are clogs vs. running shoes, Maxime Alphonse vs. Kopprasch, and black skirt vs. black pants. As I learned this morning, every little bit counts.
Maybe I could find a lighter suitcase…?”
Despite the inner monologue, I had not completely forgotten the math skills I acquired in high school. 50+20=70 (I could only transfer 20 pounds.) 92-20=72 (The ultimate weight of the other suitcase.) 72 > 70 (One item simply had to go.)
I threw away the bathrobe. I don't know why I ever brought that stupid thing to the Yucatan in the first place.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Compromiso
It's always bothered me immensely that "commitment" and "compromise" are the same word in Spanish.
I'm just beginning to understand the connection.
com·mit·ment
[kuh-mit-muhnt] –noun
It's fascinating, really, the order of definitions you get when you look up commitment. It bears a striking resemblance to my experience of being committed to my old job. My feelings for this thing went from sincere interest and excitement about making it my number one priority to feeling like it was pulling my arms behind my back and holding me in place while I was trying to take steps forward.
I'm honestly not sure if this has more to do with the situation or me. I could very well be diagnosed as "non-committal." There would be evidence available. It could also be that it's hard to commit to something that doesn't commit to you. That it's hard to make something your top priority when you feel like you and your colleagues and your values rank about #170 on their list of 200 priorities.
I don't think I'll ever know exactly what it was.
Fortunately, I'm moving on to a new realm of the commitment question...
I'm entering the world of freelancing in Mexico, which I'm finding to be surprisingly easy and hard to organize at the same time. For example, I got offered a gig playing extra for a performance of Mahler's First Symphony. Read that sentence again, literally. A performance. No rehearsals. I can't make the rehearsals, but I can make the performance. And they said that's not a problem. That's easy.
I also have a gig with a group that is willing to fly me from and to my "home" two times, two weeks apart, but is not willing to buy me a plane ticket which gets me there a few weeks early, making it possible for me to play a gig with another orchestra, because they're the "competition." Nor will they buy me a plane ticket and let me change it on my own. That's hard. Well, actually, that's just annoying. But annoying is hard.
The point is that through this process of trying to organize my freelancing life for the next two months, I am having to make commitments, and ask for commitments, and I'm realizing that they are nothing but compromises. OMG, I just saw the word "promise" in compromise for the first time. It's all starting to make sense. If I commit to something, I have to "make some concessions" in order to reach that common ground of settlement. So do they. So that's commitment- promising to compromise in order to honor the agreement.
But then there's that pesky definition #3.
Did I compromise myself by breaking my commitment? Was I forced to compromise myself in order to keep a commitment? Was I committed to compromising? Did I promise to commit?
I am far too exhausted to keep this straight at the moment. I fear that my mind (and thus, my blog) will be filled with many questions in the next months. I hope that the answers are soon to follow. I look forward to the process.
I'm just beginning to understand the connection.
com·mit·ment
[kuh-mit-muhnt] –noun | 1. | the act of committing. |
| 2. | the state of being committed. |
| 3. | the act of committing, pledging, or engaging oneself. |
| 4. | a pledge or promise; obligation: We have made a commitment to pay our bills on time. |
| 5. | engagement; involvement: They have a sincere commitment to religion. |
| 6. | perpetration or commission, as of a crime. |
| 7. | consignment, as to prison. |
| 8. | confinement to a mental institution or hospital: The psychiatrist recommended commitment. |
| 9. | an order, as by a court or judge, confining a person to a mental institution or hospital. |
| 10. | Law. a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus. |
It's fascinating, really, the order of definitions you get when you look up commitment. It bears a striking resemblance to my experience of being committed to my old job. My feelings for this thing went from sincere interest and excitement about making it my number one priority to feeling like it was pulling my arms behind my back and holding me in place while I was trying to take steps forward.
I'm honestly not sure if this has more to do with the situation or me. I could very well be diagnosed as "non-committal." There would be evidence available. It could also be that it's hard to commit to something that doesn't commit to you. That it's hard to make something your top priority when you feel like you and your colleagues and your values rank about #170 on their list of 200 priorities.
I don't think I'll ever know exactly what it was.
Fortunately, I'm moving on to a new realm of the commitment question...
com·pro·mise (kŏm'prə-mīz') n.
|
I also have a gig with a group that is willing to fly me from and to my "home" two times, two weeks apart, but is not willing to buy me a plane ticket which gets me there a few weeks early, making it possible for me to play a gig with another orchestra, because they're the "competition." Nor will they buy me a plane ticket and let me change it on my own. That's hard. Well, actually, that's just annoying. But annoying is hard.
The point is that through this process of trying to organize my freelancing life for the next two months, I am having to make commitments, and ask for commitments, and I'm realizing that they are nothing but compromises. OMG, I just saw the word "promise" in compromise for the first time. It's all starting to make sense. If I commit to something, I have to "make some concessions" in order to reach that common ground of settlement. So do they. So that's commitment- promising to compromise in order to honor the agreement.
But then there's that pesky definition #3.
Did I compromise myself by breaking my commitment? Was I forced to compromise myself in order to keep a commitment? Was I committed to compromising? Did I promise to commit?
I am far too exhausted to keep this straight at the moment. I fear that my mind (and thus, my blog) will be filled with many questions in the next months. I hope that the answers are soon to follow. I look forward to the process.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Sink or Freelance
I submitted my letter of resignation on Friday morning.
I've been relatively quiet about my dissatisfaction with my job in the last month or so, mostly because thinking about it too much (and once in a while my writing requires thinking) just made me tired. I was able to reach within myself and decide to make the best of it for a while. But ultimately, I just couldn't shake the intense desire I had to quit in August when I got the news of the changes, or lack of changes, that would take place in the next stage of the orchestra.
If you want the whole story, give me a call. But it's not that interesting, really. All in all, I really think the universe was sending me a sign. In a week's time I got 3 offers that meet the qualities of definitely not ''A SHITTY GIG''. And I began to realize that while a handful of colleagues I love playing with, a lot of free time, and a steady paycheck are all wonderful things, it just is no longer worth it. If there is a time to take risks, live week to week, and have some adventures, now is it.
I am faced with a mix of emotions that I think will get worse before it gets better. I'm very excited to meet a lot of people and see many different parts of Mexico in the coming months. I'm totally dreading eating in restaurants all the time. I'm energized by the idea of being able to go for opportunities as they arise. I'm worried I might feel lonely a lot. I have high hopes that this decision will greatly improve the quality of my blog. But the biggest thing is that I will miss very much a group of colleagues that have become true friends, role-models, and unforgettable people in my life. Not seeing them every day will really take some getting used to.
I think, Ren, that they call it freelancing because you're free. And when you're free, life is full of possiblity. So, I'm looking forward to it. If you need a horn player for something, think of me! :)
I've been relatively quiet about my dissatisfaction with my job in the last month or so, mostly because thinking about it too much (and once in a while my writing requires thinking) just made me tired. I was able to reach within myself and decide to make the best of it for a while. But ultimately, I just couldn't shake the intense desire I had to quit in August when I got the news of the changes, or lack of changes, that would take place in the next stage of the orchestra.
If you want the whole story, give me a call. But it's not that interesting, really. All in all, I really think the universe was sending me a sign. In a week's time I got 3 offers that meet the qualities of definitely not ''A SHITTY GIG''. And I began to realize that while a handful of colleagues I love playing with, a lot of free time, and a steady paycheck are all wonderful things, it just is no longer worth it. If there is a time to take risks, live week to week, and have some adventures, now is it.
I am faced with a mix of emotions that I think will get worse before it gets better. I'm very excited to meet a lot of people and see many different parts of Mexico in the coming months. I'm totally dreading eating in restaurants all the time. I'm energized by the idea of being able to go for opportunities as they arise. I'm worried I might feel lonely a lot. I have high hopes that this decision will greatly improve the quality of my blog. But the biggest thing is that I will miss very much a group of colleagues that have become true friends, role-models, and unforgettable people in my life. Not seeing them every day will really take some getting used to.
I think, Ren, that they call it freelancing because you're free. And when you're free, life is full of possiblity. So, I'm looking forward to it. If you need a horn player for something, think of me! :)
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Why Can't Playing the Horn be More Like Running?
So I couldn't resist. But I'll keep this one brief.
1) Equipment matters.
I bought these killer new running shoes yesterday. They make a huge difference.
I want a killer new horn.
2) You're not out of shape.
Even though I haven' t gone for a run in a month, I could go just as far as I did before.
Stop using "being out of shape" as an excuse. Just relax and keep going, you'll be fine.
3) Sit/stand up straight.
I lean over when I run. This does not benefit me.
I do the same thing on horn. Also doesn't benefit.
4) Expending energy is fun.
Although I was dreading it, the first run after a month was actually very fun. I feel refreshed.
Don't be lazy- you always enjoy practicing the horn, once you get going.
1) Equipment matters.
I bought these killer new running shoes yesterday. They make a huge difference.
I want a killer new horn.
2) You're not out of shape.
Even though I haven' t gone for a run in a month, I could go just as far as I did before.
Stop using "being out of shape" as an excuse. Just relax and keep going, you'll be fine.
3) Sit/stand up straight.
I lean over when I run. This does not benefit me.
I do the same thing on horn. Also doesn't benefit.
4) Expending energy is fun.
Although I was dreading it, the first run after a month was actually very fun. I feel refreshed.
Don't be lazy- you always enjoy practicing the horn, once you get going.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Why Can't Playing the Horn be More Like Writing a Paper?
I've been working on my proposals for this lately. They're consuming me a bit. During the time I'm spending on them I keep thinking I should be practicing. But, I'll admit, sometimes I find writing more satisfying than practicing.
Anyway, I had an insight. (yeah!) What if the things I like about writing, the things I excel at in writing, I could apply to horn? Now, I might be stretching it here a bit, but I'm into the extended metaphor lately. And in my list-maker spirit, I'll proceed.
1) Don't hold back.
When I write, I just let myself write everything down that comes to mind. My first drafts are really ugly- fragments, unorganized, random unnecessary thoughts (side note: I recently forwarded a draft of the proposal I'm working on to a professor who wrote me a letter of recommendation. Unfortunately, I forgot to remove the words "This paragraph blows" from the fifth paragraph, which is the paragraph I still thought needed a lot of work. Oofta.) But they have a lot of meat. They have content, ideas, and my voice. Once all of that is down on the page, I can do something with it. If it's never on the page, I can't.
I avoid a lot of things in my horn playing, because they might sound bad. Many things I need to work on never get into the room. That's silly. I like what DG said this summer, "Take the worst thing in your technique, and work on it until it's the best thing. Then see what the new worst thing is and repeat."
2) Work. Then Save.
One of the most satisfying things about writing is doing all the work and knowing it will stick. I can restructure an essay, change all my passive voices to active voices, and clear up a paragraph, hit save, shut my computer for two weeks, and when I go back, I know it will be there. Never a waste of time.
Often with horn it feels like I practice a thing, and the next day it has disappeared. Or I'm really working on something, and I don't for a few days, and it is gone. This is absurd. Why can't I make real changes that last, are effective, and I use every day? Actually, this problem is much much much better than it used to be. So I know I'm capable. Now I just have to stop futzing around and do it. A new goal: leave the practice room every day being able to do one thing you couldn't do before- permanently.
3) Demand excellence, not perfection.
When I write I am not thinking about making it "right." I'm thinking about making it great- effective, interesting, worthwhile to read. Of course I try to avoid spelling and grammar mistakes, because those get in the way of the message, but there is not this idea that it will be PERFECT.
Perfect performances are boring anyway. Not that I've heard one. But I would imagine that they would be boring. I remember hearing JZ perform the Brahms Trio at Aspen Music Festival. The first two movements were perfect, he didn't miss a single note. Then, during the first couple phrases of the third movement, he did. Don't know why, just did. All of the sudden the performance got much more interesting, I swear. There was a new intensity, a new level of expression. He didn't miss another note either, but he was much more engaged. It was like the point was no longer to play it perfectly, because that was shot-it was to play it excellently.
4) Enjoy the process.
One day in the cafeteria during freshman year of college, a friend of a friend told me why he was an English major. I had been complaining about writing (I used to not like it too much...). He said, "Writing gets fun when the process of writing takes you to new ideas. When the actual thoughts change and grow due to the writing of them down." I know what he means now. It is really cool.
We've all had those practice sessions where we're not watching the clock. More often than not, we are. But what if the goal of each session was to lose yourself in it? What could we accomplish then? What if every time you practiced, you discovered something? What if every time you played, no matter what, it was fresh?
5) Seek feedback.
I have no problem whatsoever asking for help with my writing. I've gladly turned over my proposal to 5 people, some strangers, some close family, and instructed them to rip it apart. Luckily, they haven't had to, but I wouldn't have minded. I enjoy getting their perceptions and advice in light of making my writing the best it can be.
I try to do this with my playing too, but it feels much more personal. This is ridiculous. How I play is not me, it's how I play. If I play badly, it doesn't mean I'm bad. I want to play the best I can- this means having other people listen and tell me what they hear. It might not be pretty, but I want to hear it.
6) Have a solid idea of what you want to say before you begin.
I'll confess I don't always have this when I write (you've all read the blogposts in which this is apparent). But everything goes more smoothly when I do. In attempts not to contradict #4, I will say that this doesn't mean your idea can't change, it just means that you have to start from somewhere concrete. No fishing around- it's not good for you, your reader, or the world at large.
As I was told multiple times this summer, I know how to play the horn. Now I want to forget that and say something. Make phrases, convey characters, engage listeners. To do this, I have to know how I want it to sound before the horn comes anywhere near my face.
Conveniently, this item is two-fold. Not only does it apply to performing, but to practicing technique. Playing an exercise or an etude is pointless if you don't know what you want to get out of it. As much as my roommate MT loves the sound of my high-range exercises, I think she'd be disappointed if she found out I was playing them just for her.
7) Be clear and direct.
No explanation needed, fittingly.
No more fuzzy notes or sloppy articulation. No questionable phrases or ignored markings. Enough said.
8) Take pride in your work.
I like what I write. I enjoy doing it, enjoy reading it, and enjoy other people reading it.
I can be proud of my playing, in the practice room, in rehearsals, on recordings, and in concerts. Especially in concerts- no more evaluating while performing. Doesn't work. I want to play out, like once I play it, it is gone from me. And I want to play so that what is gone from me I can see as an outsider, and like!
All right, enough writing...I need to practice.
Anyway, I had an insight. (yeah!) What if the things I like about writing, the things I excel at in writing, I could apply to horn? Now, I might be stretching it here a bit, but I'm into the extended metaphor lately. And in my list-maker spirit, I'll proceed.
1) Don't hold back.
When I write, I just let myself write everything down that comes to mind. My first drafts are really ugly- fragments, unorganized, random unnecessary thoughts (side note: I recently forwarded a draft of the proposal I'm working on to a professor who wrote me a letter of recommendation. Unfortunately, I forgot to remove the words "This paragraph blows" from the fifth paragraph, which is the paragraph I still thought needed a lot of work. Oofta.) But they have a lot of meat. They have content, ideas, and my voice. Once all of that is down on the page, I can do something with it. If it's never on the page, I can't.
I avoid a lot of things in my horn playing, because they might sound bad. Many things I need to work on never get into the room. That's silly. I like what DG said this summer, "Take the worst thing in your technique, and work on it until it's the best thing. Then see what the new worst thing is and repeat."
2) Work. Then Save.
One of the most satisfying things about writing is doing all the work and knowing it will stick. I can restructure an essay, change all my passive voices to active voices, and clear up a paragraph, hit save, shut my computer for two weeks, and when I go back, I know it will be there. Never a waste of time.
Often with horn it feels like I practice a thing, and the next day it has disappeared. Or I'm really working on something, and I don't for a few days, and it is gone. This is absurd. Why can't I make real changes that last, are effective, and I use every day? Actually, this problem is much much much better than it used to be. So I know I'm capable. Now I just have to stop futzing around and do it. A new goal: leave the practice room every day being able to do one thing you couldn't do before- permanently.
3) Demand excellence, not perfection.
When I write I am not thinking about making it "right." I'm thinking about making it great- effective, interesting, worthwhile to read. Of course I try to avoid spelling and grammar mistakes, because those get in the way of the message, but there is not this idea that it will be PERFECT.
Perfect performances are boring anyway. Not that I've heard one. But I would imagine that they would be boring. I remember hearing JZ perform the Brahms Trio at Aspen Music Festival. The first two movements were perfect, he didn't miss a single note. Then, during the first couple phrases of the third movement, he did. Don't know why, just did. All of the sudden the performance got much more interesting, I swear. There was a new intensity, a new level of expression. He didn't miss another note either, but he was much more engaged. It was like the point was no longer to play it perfectly, because that was shot-it was to play it excellently.
4) Enjoy the process.
One day in the cafeteria during freshman year of college, a friend of a friend told me why he was an English major. I had been complaining about writing (I used to not like it too much...). He said, "Writing gets fun when the process of writing takes you to new ideas. When the actual thoughts change and grow due to the writing of them down." I know what he means now. It is really cool.
We've all had those practice sessions where we're not watching the clock. More often than not, we are. But what if the goal of each session was to lose yourself in it? What could we accomplish then? What if every time you practiced, you discovered something? What if every time you played, no matter what, it was fresh?
5) Seek feedback.
I have no problem whatsoever asking for help with my writing. I've gladly turned over my proposal to 5 people, some strangers, some close family, and instructed them to rip it apart. Luckily, they haven't had to, but I wouldn't have minded. I enjoy getting their perceptions and advice in light of making my writing the best it can be.
I try to do this with my playing too, but it feels much more personal. This is ridiculous. How I play is not me, it's how I play. If I play badly, it doesn't mean I'm bad. I want to play the best I can- this means having other people listen and tell me what they hear. It might not be pretty, but I want to hear it.
6) Have a solid idea of what you want to say before you begin.
I'll confess I don't always have this when I write (you've all read the blogposts in which this is apparent). But everything goes more smoothly when I do. In attempts not to contradict #4, I will say that this doesn't mean your idea can't change, it just means that you have to start from somewhere concrete. No fishing around- it's not good for you, your reader, or the world at large.
As I was told multiple times this summer, I know how to play the horn. Now I want to forget that and say something. Make phrases, convey characters, engage listeners. To do this, I have to know how I want it to sound before the horn comes anywhere near my face.
Conveniently, this item is two-fold. Not only does it apply to performing, but to practicing technique. Playing an exercise or an etude is pointless if you don't know what you want to get out of it. As much as my roommate MT loves the sound of my high-range exercises, I think she'd be disappointed if she found out I was playing them just for her.
7) Be clear and direct.
No explanation needed, fittingly.
No more fuzzy notes or sloppy articulation. No questionable phrases or ignored markings. Enough said.
8) Take pride in your work.
I like what I write. I enjoy doing it, enjoy reading it, and enjoy other people reading it.
I can be proud of my playing, in the practice room, in rehearsals, on recordings, and in concerts. Especially in concerts- no more evaluating while performing. Doesn't work. I want to play out, like once I play it, it is gone from me. And I want to play so that what is gone from me I can see as an outsider, and like!
All right, enough writing...I need to practice.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Bad News is Good News
I have, as of late, flung myself, with full force, back into the world of rejection. And let me tell you, it's out there, whether you manage to hide from it, avoid it, deny it, and ignore it or not. And it stings.
I applied for my first big thing since I got my job a year and a half ago, and I did not get it. Actually, I've applied for a few other moderately big things in the past six months, not huge, but somewhat significant, and I actually got those! So that was a pleasant surprise. But now I'm back to the harsh reality of rejection. It's oogie. I'd forgotten.
Things around these parts are not ideal lately. I won't bother going into details because, frankly, it's boring and I'd rather not waste my precious mental energy and finger muscles on describing it. But lets just say, it's a time to be keeping your eyes peeled for other opportunities. So I'm going a bit nuts finding out what else is out there, and getting my nose in some of it. And that means getting turned down. Not because I'm not qualified, because I think by now, I am, slightly. And not because I'm unlucky, because I actually am lucky too. But just because it is the world I have chosen.
Sometimes I wish that when I had gone into that "Pick Your Band Instrument" interview in fifth grade the band director had handed me the horn mouthpiece, seen my eyes light up, and then reminded me, "You do realize your choosing a life full of abrupt life changes, steady relationship obstacles, negative outlooks abound, difficult personalities, incompetent administrations and far more rejections than acceptances, right?" But then I remember, I still love what I do.
I'm putting a positive spin on things. It's what makes me happy, when I'm in the mood.
I'm in the mood.
So, I'm back in the world of rejections, which sucks. But it means I'm also back in the world of possibilities. The world of new contacts, new places, new dreams, new risks, new adventures, new problems (at least they're more interesting than the old ones), new everything. And this world gives me a lot of energy. It's true, it's waaaay less comfortable. It gives me anxiety. It's maddening. But it's exciting, and for me, exciting is oh-so-much better than same old, same old.
And also, maybe even more importantly, it makes me not take this job, and all the other chances I've gotten, for granted. I've been rejected from a mountain of things. But I've been accepted to a hill, which is still a lot. And I have a job playing music every day, and I still enjoy that. So when I got my first of many rejections to come, I was pretty bummed. And then about half an hour I was elated.
Maybe I'm schizophrenic.
Maybe I'm optimistic to a fault.
Maybe I'm enlightened.
I applied for my first big thing since I got my job a year and a half ago, and I did not get it. Actually, I've applied for a few other moderately big things in the past six months, not huge, but somewhat significant, and I actually got those! So that was a pleasant surprise. But now I'm back to the harsh reality of rejection. It's oogie. I'd forgotten.
Things around these parts are not ideal lately. I won't bother going into details because, frankly, it's boring and I'd rather not waste my precious mental energy and finger muscles on describing it. But lets just say, it's a time to be keeping your eyes peeled for other opportunities. So I'm going a bit nuts finding out what else is out there, and getting my nose in some of it. And that means getting turned down. Not because I'm not qualified, because I think by now, I am, slightly. And not because I'm unlucky, because I actually am lucky too. But just because it is the world I have chosen.
Sometimes I wish that when I had gone into that "Pick Your Band Instrument" interview in fifth grade the band director had handed me the horn mouthpiece, seen my eyes light up, and then reminded me, "You do realize your choosing a life full of abrupt life changes, steady relationship obstacles, negative outlooks abound, difficult personalities, incompetent administrations and far more rejections than acceptances, right?" But then I remember, I still love what I do.
I'm putting a positive spin on things. It's what makes me happy, when I'm in the mood.
I'm in the mood.
So, I'm back in the world of rejections, which sucks. But it means I'm also back in the world of possibilities. The world of new contacts, new places, new dreams, new risks, new adventures, new problems (at least they're more interesting than the old ones), new everything. And this world gives me a lot of energy. It's true, it's waaaay less comfortable. It gives me anxiety. It's maddening. But it's exciting, and for me, exciting is oh-so-much better than same old, same old.
And also, maybe even more importantly, it makes me not take this job, and all the other chances I've gotten, for granted. I've been rejected from a mountain of things. But I've been accepted to a hill, which is still a lot. And I have a job playing music every day, and I still enjoy that. So when I got my first of many rejections to come, I was pretty bummed. And then about half an hour I was elated.
Maybe I'm schizophrenic.
Maybe I'm optimistic to a fault.
Maybe I'm enlightened.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Skype Stalker?
Today I was watching a movie (A Very Long Engagement- I highly recommend it) and I heard the weird whoosh/bleep combo that means I got a message on Skype. Thinking I would just respond when the movie finished, I put my computer on mute and let the screen go black again. Half an hour later, when the movie was over, I went back to the Skype message. It seems that my Skype personality had a life of it's own, for it had responded to RB's messages, promptly, with "hi," "hello," "aroudndu" and "stupid," one after another, in response to each of her messages. If anyone can find anyway to explain this, I would appreciate it. I have since quit out of Skype, and don't plan to sign back in until I know what happened. I am disturbed.
Luckily, I won't be needing Skype on Isla Holbox, which is where I'm headed- bus leaves at 11:30 pm tonight!
Luckily, I won't be needing Skype on Isla Holbox, which is where I'm headed- bus leaves at 11:30 pm tonight!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Words Can't Really Describe
I haven't really written much about my experience in Oaxaca. Let it suffice to say that most words would be a worthless attempt at describing it. I think it really changed me as a player, as a performer, as a person. I mean, I feel different about myself when my horn is in my hands. I think I sound different too. I can't write much else, I don't know what to say. Luckily, some professional photographers were taking pictures of us for the whole two weeks. So, here you go. Above, you can see some of my teachers and performances. Below, you can see my friends!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Over-Connected
I think I have too many means of communication; it's getting out of hand. When I turn on my computer I sign on to Gmail, Skype, Messenger and Facebook. There's too many ways to get in touch with me and arenas in which I expect messanges...it's giving me a perpetual headache. I think I need to set myself some rules- like the computer can only be on 2 hours a day, or something.
I abandoned TV about 8 years ago because I felt it sucked everything out of me. And now my computer, with a screen the size of a small TV, is doing the same. How can I remedy this situation? Any suggestions?
In other news, I am learning some Norwegian, and think I have come down with a cold. The two are not necessarily related.
In observance of my new "cut-back-on-computer" campaign, I'm going to keep this one short.
I abandoned TV about 8 years ago because I felt it sucked everything out of me. And now my computer, with a screen the size of a small TV, is doing the same. How can I remedy this situation? Any suggestions?
In other news, I am learning some Norwegian, and think I have come down with a cold. The two are not necessarily related.
In observance of my new "cut-back-on-computer" campaign, I'm going to keep this one short.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Long Tones: Thoughts on Patience
I am not a patient person. I could try to convince you that I am. I might have some good examples to use as evidence. I bet that some people I know would even argue that I am patient. After all, they might say, look at the profession you've chosen. One does not choose to sit in a substantially large group of people and be told what to do for a living if they are not patient.
But nope, I'm definitely not patient. I'm actually impatient to a point that patient people often drive me nuts. I know...patience is a virtue, blah blah blah. But when it comes down to it, for me, waiting around for stuff to happen is flat-out really annoying.
I'm actually waiting for my roommates right now- we are going bowling and were supposed to be there 3 minutes ago. Of course, we're back on Yucatacen time, so it doesn't matter. But man are they taking forever. I almost got up to coax them along, but I'll stay here and write this, like a little experiment.
I started doing long tones again yesterday. It has been a looong time since I've done loooong tones on a regular basis, and I think that is a very big problem given the state of my playing. It's ridiculous really. What are my biggest challenges as a player? Sound. Loud playing. Too much tension. Efficient use of air. What is the answer to all of those things? Duh.
For those of you who don't know, long tones are exactly what they sound like. You play a tone for a long time. The way I do it is first I play the note pianissimo for 10 counts (seconds, really) then crescendo and decrescendo for 8 counts, then crescendo for 8, then fortissimo for 8, then decrescendo for 12 and hold as long as possible. Then you change notes. 11 notes in all. That's....10+8+8+8+12=46x11, 460 seconds or just over 7 minutes. Of holding notes.
Actually, now that I've done the math, it's not so bad. It seems much longer while you're doing it. Aha, such is impatience. About 3 notes in I find myself longing (heh heh, no pun intended) to be done, eye-ing the last note, wondering if maybe I could just skip ahead. Who would know, after all? I have to keep reaching inside of myself for an inch more of self-discipline. I have to stay aware of what's going on in my body, keep demanding better tone, more relaxation from myself. I have to resist boredom, because really there's so much going on it would be crazy to be bored. I have to enjoy the moment, really, otherwise I'll just quit and go check "musicalchairs." (A tad ironic, no?)
Undoubtedly, when I finish, I am a much much better horn player. And only 7 minutes! Not only does it help so many areas of my playing, but it's actually a satisfying experience of being human, something about having survived and overcome the impatience monster.
The biggest problem with impatience is it impedes you from realizing that right now is everything. I mean really, this moment is your life. And this one. And this one. And if I spent the last three moments worrying about the next three, then I lost those three. And so on and so on. And that is quite disconcerting to me.
I am a forward looking person, which is a virtue and a hindrance. I think it keeps me optimistic, active, engaged, accomplished. But it also makes me miss a lot. So, that's what I'm working on, presently. Appreciating the now, whether it's a long tone or a rainy day. The future is important, but it's not everything, and it will happen when it happens, whether I anxiously anticipate it or not.
But nope, I'm definitely not patient. I'm actually impatient to a point that patient people often drive me nuts. I know...patience is a virtue, blah blah blah. But when it comes down to it, for me, waiting around for stuff to happen is flat-out really annoying.
I'm actually waiting for my roommates right now- we are going bowling and were supposed to be there 3 minutes ago. Of course, we're back on Yucatacen time, so it doesn't matter. But man are they taking forever. I almost got up to coax them along, but I'll stay here and write this, like a little experiment.
I started doing long tones again yesterday. It has been a looong time since I've done loooong tones on a regular basis, and I think that is a very big problem given the state of my playing. It's ridiculous really. What are my biggest challenges as a player? Sound. Loud playing. Too much tension. Efficient use of air. What is the answer to all of those things? Duh.
For those of you who don't know, long tones are exactly what they sound like. You play a tone for a long time. The way I do it is first I play the note pianissimo for 10 counts (seconds, really) then crescendo and decrescendo for 8 counts, then crescendo for 8, then fortissimo for 8, then decrescendo for 12 and hold as long as possible. Then you change notes. 11 notes in all. That's....10+8+8+8+12=46x11, 460 seconds or just over 7 minutes. Of holding notes.
Actually, now that I've done the math, it's not so bad. It seems much longer while you're doing it. Aha, such is impatience. About 3 notes in I find myself longing (heh heh, no pun intended) to be done, eye-ing the last note, wondering if maybe I could just skip ahead. Who would know, after all? I have to keep reaching inside of myself for an inch more of self-discipline. I have to stay aware of what's going on in my body, keep demanding better tone, more relaxation from myself. I have to resist boredom, because really there's so much going on it would be crazy to be bored. I have to enjoy the moment, really, otherwise I'll just quit and go check "musicalchairs." (A tad ironic, no?)
Undoubtedly, when I finish, I am a much much better horn player. And only 7 minutes! Not only does it help so many areas of my playing, but it's actually a satisfying experience of being human, something about having survived and overcome the impatience monster.
The biggest problem with impatience is it impedes you from realizing that right now is everything. I mean really, this moment is your life. And this one. And this one. And if I spent the last three moments worrying about the next three, then I lost those three. And so on and so on. And that is quite disconcerting to me.
I am a forward looking person, which is a virtue and a hindrance. I think it keeps me optimistic, active, engaged, accomplished. But it also makes me miss a lot. So, that's what I'm working on, presently. Appreciating the now, whether it's a long tone or a rainy day. The future is important, but it's not everything, and it will happen when it happens, whether I anxiously anticipate it or not.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
4H
Hurricanes. (http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at4+shtml/143523.shtml?5day )
Humidity.
Huapango.
Horn.
Keeping my sense of humor.
Staying happy.
Humidity.
Huapango.
Horn.
Keeping my sense of humor.
Staying happy.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Wakka wakka wakka, I <3 Oaxaca
I don't really have any time to post, but I just wanted to express my extremely positive feelings for this city and this music festival.
I like just about everything. I like the food, I like the atmosphere downtown, I like my brass quintet, I like my horn sextet, I like my brass trio, I like this really interesting Colombian bass player, super friendly Panamanian trombonist, and this crazy cool Mexican oboist, I like the hall, I like mezcal, I like that I have randomly run into two friends from my past here on vacation, I like the climate, and I like the Finnish horn teacher I get to learn from every morning.
Not too shabby.
Miss you all...more soon!
I like just about everything. I like the food, I like the atmosphere downtown, I like my brass quintet, I like my horn sextet, I like my brass trio, I like this really interesting Colombian bass player, super friendly Panamanian trombonist, and this crazy cool Mexican oboist, I like the hall, I like mezcal, I like that I have randomly run into two friends from my past here on vacation, I like the climate, and I like the Finnish horn teacher I get to learn from every morning.
Not too shabby.
Miss you all...more soon!
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Woodwind Quintet Is Where Its At
More on this later, but I'll just say that playing in woodwind quintet is a total party and I just had a fantastic chamber music experience with four other really really good musicians. I think I've improved more in the past week than I have in a looong time. Nice.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Long Time No Blog
All right, I can’t betray you any longer. My recent lack of blogging is actually beginning to feel like a self-betrayal, it’s been so long. So I’m trying a new technique- blogging while not actually connected to the Internet. It’s a different experience, actually, and will probably result in a more journal-istic tone. I’ll connect when I head over to the main building tomorrow and cut and paste.
I arrived on Gilligan’s Island finally, after a long day of smooth but drawn out travel, at 9:30 pm. The good news is that the facilities are beautiful, there seem to be a few interesting people, and I have my own room. (I seem to be the only one with their own room, so that is extra good news. Now I have a place to do yoga un-interrupted and I can switch beds every night- tonight top bunk, tomorrow bottom, etc.! No, I won’t actually do that.) The bad news is that the delicious plates of dinner they had set aside for us included a big pile of pesto pasta topped with pine nuts, so I had to go without food. Apparently my health sheet didn’t quite make it to the kitchen, so there was not a nut-less option. Bummer. Hopefully the rest of the week they will come up with something, otherwise I’m seriously thinking of asking for money to buy some meals since I did pay to be here…
I maintain that the good news outweighs the bad news.
After memorizing a lot of names and asking the top 5 questions you ask people you meet at a music festival over and over, I got a little playing in and unpacked. And I realized something about myself…
I’m older.
The last time I was at something like this was two years ago, and while the surroundings were remarkably similar, I felt remarkably different. I don’t think I’ve ever unpacked in a place in which I will live from a suitcase for a short period. It’s never seemed the least bit important, and yet this time around it seemed essential. Interesting. And although I am hoping to meet some cool people that I can get past questions 1-5 with, I’m more excited about learning a lot this week, practicing, being serious, and coming away from this a substantially better musician. I’ve felt this way before, but it’s gotten lost in the desire to socialize. We’ll see.
If I continue to call this Gilligan’s Island does it give me license to describe the people who fit their stereotypes to a “T” that I’ve met so far? (Don’t’ worry Mom and Dad, I’m going to erase that paragraph in a few days, so no one will encounter it later and get their feelings hurt, but so that BP, RG, JD, and LR, who check my blog every day, can know exactly what I mean, and maybe even get a chuckle out of it.)
My real fear is that I too am fitting a stereotype- that girl who has a job in another country and can’t stop bringing it up. I’m consciously trying to not talk about it, because I don’t want to get annoying, and because when I do say I have a job in an orchestra, people’s voices change, like I’m a celebrity or something. I don’t want to break their hearts and explain about the orchestra or the audition process, and how if they had applied at the right time they could probably have the job too. But that seems to be a post for another day.
So I’ll leave it with this- being amidst a group of people who are in school, I am certain that I made the right decision. No matter how I got the job I have, I do feel really really lucky to have it. It’s what everyone here seems to be working hard for and what I was working so hard far, and, and it has changed me and my playing only for the better, and I would never want to go backwards on that move, from where I stand now.
Tonight I feel grateful, and a little bit lonely for the musicians I get to play my job with. The ones that know my answers to questions 1-5 and can tell me an inside joke or a word definition or buy me an ice cream cone or invite me to a party and really make me feel part of a community like I do on a daily basis at work.
Yep, tonight I feel grateful.
(And older, in my own room!!!)
...And then I walk in this morning to post this, and three people are speaking Spanish in the lobby...what a weird world!
I arrived on Gilligan’s Island finally, after a long day of smooth but drawn out travel, at 9:30 pm. The good news is that the facilities are beautiful, there seem to be a few interesting people, and I have my own room. (I seem to be the only one with their own room, so that is extra good news. Now I have a place to do yoga un-interrupted and I can switch beds every night- tonight top bunk, tomorrow bottom, etc.! No, I won’t actually do that.) The bad news is that the delicious plates of dinner they had set aside for us included a big pile of pesto pasta topped with pine nuts, so I had to go without food. Apparently my health sheet didn’t quite make it to the kitchen, so there was not a nut-less option. Bummer. Hopefully the rest of the week they will come up with something, otherwise I’m seriously thinking of asking for money to buy some meals since I did pay to be here…
I maintain that the good news outweighs the bad news.
After memorizing a lot of names and asking the top 5 questions you ask people you meet at a music festival over and over, I got a little playing in and unpacked. And I realized something about myself…
I’m older.
The last time I was at something like this was two years ago, and while the surroundings were remarkably similar, I felt remarkably different. I don’t think I’ve ever unpacked in a place in which I will live from a suitcase for a short period. It’s never seemed the least bit important, and yet this time around it seemed essential. Interesting. And although I am hoping to meet some cool people that I can get past questions 1-5 with, I’m more excited about learning a lot this week, practicing, being serious, and coming away from this a substantially better musician. I’ve felt this way before, but it’s gotten lost in the desire to socialize. We’ll see.
If I continue to call this Gilligan’s Island does it give me license to describe the people who fit their stereotypes to a “T” that I’ve met so far? (Don’t’ worry Mom and Dad, I’m going to erase that paragraph in a few days, so no one will encounter it later and get their feelings hurt, but so that BP, RG, JD, and LR, who check my blog every day, can know exactly what I mean, and maybe even get a chuckle out of it.)
My real fear is that I too am fitting a stereotype- that girl who has a job in another country and can’t stop bringing it up. I’m consciously trying to not talk about it, because I don’t want to get annoying, and because when I do say I have a job in an orchestra, people’s voices change, like I’m a celebrity or something. I don’t want to break their hearts and explain about the orchestra or the audition process, and how if they had applied at the right time they could probably have the job too. But that seems to be a post for another day.
So I’ll leave it with this- being amidst a group of people who are in school, I am certain that I made the right decision. No matter how I got the job I have, I do feel really really lucky to have it. It’s what everyone here seems to be working hard for and what I was working so hard far, and, and it has changed me and my playing only for the better, and I would never want to go backwards on that move, from where I stand now.
Tonight I feel grateful, and a little bit lonely for the musicians I get to play my job with. The ones that know my answers to questions 1-5 and can tell me an inside joke or a word definition or buy me an ice cream cone or invite me to a party and really make me feel part of a community like I do on a daily basis at work.
Yep, tonight I feel grateful.
(And older, in my own room!!!)
...And then I walk in this morning to post this, and three people are speaking Spanish in the lobby...what a weird world!
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Dear Blog,
Sorry I've been neglecting you. I just need to get my priorities straight lately, and you know that you can't come first. It doesn't mean I don't care. But if I get the things I need to get done, and keep up my new disciplined habits of practicing, and stop wasting so much darn time on the Internet, we both know you and I will end up better off. I know I have left you out of a lot of great stories, rants, inquiries, and ramblings, and really I have lost a lot along the way too. But it is for the best. Thank you for your understanding, and I hope to attend to you soon, whether it be about the northern woods, bridesmaid-excursions, beautiful weddings, adventures on "Plum Island," or that crazy-named place with an "x" in it.
Love, C de C
P.S. If it would be OK with you, I'd like to allow some guest bloggers to contribute, if they're interested, in the meantime. I know it won't be the same, but perhaps it can hold you over.
(Anyone want to guest blog?!?)
Love, C de C
P.S. If it would be OK with you, I'd like to allow some guest bloggers to contribute, if they're interested, in the meantime. I know it won't be the same, but perhaps it can hold you over.
(Anyone want to guest blog?!?)
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Cardboard...
...is what my chops feel like.
I thought maybe if I admitted it to the world, it would go away.
I thought maybe if I admitted it to the world, it would go away.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
The Top 10 Things You Do in Yucatan Because of the Heat
We actually do these things.
1) Eat breakfast in the dark to avoid the extra heat from the overhead light.
2) When driving and approaching a red traffic light, stop a good 100 feet behind the intersection, just because there's a patch of shade to wait in.
3) Learn how to sleep with no body parts touching, since any point of contact is sure to sweat profusely.
4) Rearrange living room into bizarre set up so that main seating areas are directly under overhead fan.
5) Three showers per day.
6) Go the the mall and wander around aimlessly just to be in AC.
7) Go a 7-11 and wander around aimlessly just to be in AC.
8) Make purchases specifically in stores on the lower floor of the mall, as opposed to the upper floor, because the AC isn't as powerful on the upper floor.
9) Roll shirt up to leave stomach exposed and provide more ventilation. This is done anywhere, any time, under any circumstances.
10) Nothing. It's too hot to do a damn thing.
1) Eat breakfast in the dark to avoid the extra heat from the overhead light.
2) When driving and approaching a red traffic light, stop a good 100 feet behind the intersection, just because there's a patch of shade to wait in.
3) Learn how to sleep with no body parts touching, since any point of contact is sure to sweat profusely.
4) Rearrange living room into bizarre set up so that main seating areas are directly under overhead fan.
5) Three showers per day.
6) Go the the mall and wander around aimlessly just to be in AC.
7) Go a 7-11 and wander around aimlessly just to be in AC.
8) Make purchases specifically in stores on the lower floor of the mall, as opposed to the upper floor, because the AC isn't as powerful on the upper floor.
9) Roll shirt up to leave stomach exposed and provide more ventilation. This is done anywhere, any time, under any circumstances.
10) Nothing. It's too hot to do a damn thing.
Monday, June 04, 2007
It's Not Me, It's Them
When did it become OK for 13 year-old boys to have absolutely no respect for their elders, teachers, or anything??? I have a few boys in my class who are so far from well-behaved it's sickening. When I ask them to be quite multiple times they actually have the cajones to turn to me and motion like, "Just a second, I'm almost done telling my friend about my favorite band..." so I have to say things like, "No, that is not how it works in my classroom. Blah blah blah." A few of them even made fun of my accent (in Spanish) today.
Is it because I speak another language so they don't really see me as a person? Is it because they have not yet learned what respect is and why it is important? Do they do it purely for attention? Are their parents completely incompetent at raising them? Is it because they are spoiled? Is it because they are Mexican? Will they grow up in the next few years into nice young boys, who care about their mothers and getting good grades and getting into university? Or will they become the ones that whistle at me on the street or the ones that waste my time in rehearsal?
Some days respect strikes me as this abstract thing, the importance of which I can't quite articulate. Right now it is a very real, necessary, essential to being a human thing, the lack of which in these teenagers leaves me flabbergasted.
Is it because I speak another language so they don't really see me as a person? Is it because they have not yet learned what respect is and why it is important? Do they do it purely for attention? Are their parents completely incompetent at raising them? Is it because they are spoiled? Is it because they are Mexican? Will they grow up in the next few years into nice young boys, who care about their mothers and getting good grades and getting into university? Or will they become the ones that whistle at me on the street or the ones that waste my time in rehearsal?
Some days respect strikes me as this abstract thing, the importance of which I can't quite articulate. Right now it is a very real, necessary, essential to being a human thing, the lack of which in these teenagers leaves me flabbergasted.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Fun with the Internet
Some things on the Internet are fun. Here are a few:
I don't know who most of these people are, I look 64% like a guy, and who knew Britney's real name was Jamie Lynn? But hey, from now on, I'll just answer to "Madonna."
My house mate is a short films genius. He does his best work during mundane rehearsals when the basses have lots 'o' rests. Here are my recent favorites:
Lil' Giraffe
Big Giraffe
And this is the website of the political party that just took over the state I live in.
Funny.
I don't know who most of these people are, I look 64% like a guy, and who knew Britney's real name was Jamie Lynn? But hey, from now on, I'll just answer to "Madonna."
My house mate is a short films genius. He does his best work during mundane rehearsals when the basses have lots 'o' rests. Here are my recent favorites:
Lil' Giraffe
Big Giraffe
And this is the website of the political party that just took over the state I live in.
Funny.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Quite the Juxtaposition
This week has been really great in the orchestra. I have learned a lot each morning, and feel like I am getting a better idea of how to play Schumann from MR, our guest conductor. I have found his rehearsals to be engaging, effective and fun. Plus, everyone leaves in a good mood, which is always a good sign.
Yesterday morning we were in the middle of one of those engaging moments when it was snapped in half like a twig.
We began Oberon Overture- MR explained who Oberon is, explained the magic of the story, and how that came through the music. It was really starting to work- he was demanding more focus from us, I could feel the energy of the group centering and really starting to reach that zeroed-in quality that's especially necessary for magical introductions.
Just as I began to enjoy this new found atmosphere, a woman out in the seats began talking rather loudly to a group of people that had gathered near the back of the hall. MR flicked his head quickly, shot out a brisk "Shhh!" and then turned back, focusing again immediately. Unfortunately, the woman didn't really get the idea, but she did at least start to walk out the door.
Good, I thought, this nice moment won't be ruined.
And it did last a second longer, until the doors at the back of the hall opened again, and in walked...a giant, human-sized R2D2. I kid you not. Talk about a sudden change of emotion. I'm telling you, R2D2 is funny when 3 times its original size.
MR of course could not see this, and his eager focus was too endearing to bust up by laughing outright, but it was pretty hard to stay grounded. I think I only skipped a few bars, but I really hoped he wouldn't notice my facial contortions and think I wasn't into the rehearsal, because I really was.
So, it was pretty funny. But not funny, ha ha. More like, funny, you have to laugh otherwise you'll scream and cry at the giant analogy this is for your whole job...
Yesterday morning we were in the middle of one of those engaging moments when it was snapped in half like a twig.
We began Oberon Overture- MR explained who Oberon is, explained the magic of the story, and how that came through the music. It was really starting to work- he was demanding more focus from us, I could feel the energy of the group centering and really starting to reach that zeroed-in quality that's especially necessary for magical introductions.
Just as I began to enjoy this new found atmosphere, a woman out in the seats began talking rather loudly to a group of people that had gathered near the back of the hall. MR flicked his head quickly, shot out a brisk "Shhh!" and then turned back, focusing again immediately. Unfortunately, the woman didn't really get the idea, but she did at least start to walk out the door.
Good, I thought, this nice moment won't be ruined.
And it did last a second longer, until the doors at the back of the hall opened again, and in walked...a giant, human-sized R2D2. I kid you not. Talk about a sudden change of emotion. I'm telling you, R2D2 is funny when 3 times its original size.
MR of course could not see this, and his eager focus was too endearing to bust up by laughing outright, but it was pretty hard to stay grounded. I think I only skipped a few bars, but I really hoped he wouldn't notice my facial contortions and think I wasn't into the rehearsal, because I really was.
So, it was pretty funny. But not funny, ha ha. More like, funny, you have to laugh otherwise you'll scream and cry at the giant analogy this is for your whole job...
Monday, May 28, 2007
Just Do It?!?
I have not been this frustrated in a looong time. Well, maybe when I changed my embouchure. But then I had the "I just changed my embouchure" clause to get me through. I can't say "Excuse me for screwing this up 20 times in a row, I just changed my brain." Or can I?
We just had a recording session of the piece my wonderful colleague WJM wrote for our horn quartet. It's the kind of morning where I feel so lucky to be exactly in my shoes. A guy I sit next to every day is creating new art for a group I play in, and we get to record it, add something creative and good to the world. The piece is really beautiful, I love sitting down bell from these guys, and they even turned the air conditioning on. Not bad, not bad at all.
One thing that's great about WJM is he's very prepared, thorough, and thoughtful (OK, three things that are great about him). These qualities gave a nice atmosphere to the recording session; when we started recording I felt calm and focused, like I could play well even though we only rehearsed the piece once.
We recorded the last movement in one take, more or less. (I think we did a few takes of the last section.) There were some truly beautiful moments and we had a flow. We took a break and then began to tackle the second movement, which is much less hornistically (come on now, why did my spell check highlight that word, isn't it about time hornistically is in the dictionary?!?) challenging, but much more mentally challenging. I had been having some trouble with it in the rehearsal, but I had looked over the part, felt more confident about the technical aspects and thought that this would allow me to focus all my attention on the mental part- the counting. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken.
It's true the writing is complicated- a 5 beat melody, in 3/4 time, that phases cyclically, so it falls in a different place and in different relation to the accompaniment every time. But still, I should be able to count to 3 and put some eighth notes in their correct place. Something about it though, I just could not get through without getting lost. And once I got lost, I could never ever get back on.
Everyone was very understanding and sweet about it. I think I will have to shake off the feeling that they secretly resent me for my incompetence, because it won't be good to carry that around. And I think there are some extenuating circumstances. I trust that I still can learn the part with a little more time (unfortunately, we didn't have time for this particular portion of the project...).
It's just frustrating to bump up against your limitations. I don't really know how to deal with it. I'd like to blame it on my recent change of brain, but realistically that's not any sort of option. In this instance I'm forced to do the very uncomfortable- admit I just cannot do this thing in this moment, take the time to learn how to do it, and move on. Ugh, I don't like that feeling.
It seems an American value to be able to do anything, that it all depends on how hard you work. I still believe that to a large extent, and I'll keep at it, but the all American slogan "Just Do It" doesn't give a hint as to what to do in that period in which you are working. After all, it's not "Just Do It and If You Can't, Open Your Mind to Options, Do the Best You Can and Don't Be Too Hard On Yourself While Still Staying Committed to Doing It Eventually."
Yeah, I guess that doesn't really have the same ring to it.
We just had a recording session of the piece my wonderful colleague WJM wrote for our horn quartet. It's the kind of morning where I feel so lucky to be exactly in my shoes. A guy I sit next to every day is creating new art for a group I play in, and we get to record it, add something creative and good to the world. The piece is really beautiful, I love sitting down bell from these guys, and they even turned the air conditioning on. Not bad, not bad at all.
One thing that's great about WJM is he's very prepared, thorough, and thoughtful (OK, three things that are great about him). These qualities gave a nice atmosphere to the recording session; when we started recording I felt calm and focused, like I could play well even though we only rehearsed the piece once.
We recorded the last movement in one take, more or less. (I think we did a few takes of the last section.) There were some truly beautiful moments and we had a flow. We took a break and then began to tackle the second movement, which is much less hornistically (come on now, why did my spell check highlight that word, isn't it about time hornistically is in the dictionary?!?) challenging, but much more mentally challenging. I had been having some trouble with it in the rehearsal, but I had looked over the part, felt more confident about the technical aspects and thought that this would allow me to focus all my attention on the mental part- the counting. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken.
It's true the writing is complicated- a 5 beat melody, in 3/4 time, that phases cyclically, so it falls in a different place and in different relation to the accompaniment every time. But still, I should be able to count to 3 and put some eighth notes in their correct place. Something about it though, I just could not get through without getting lost. And once I got lost, I could never ever get back on.
Everyone was very understanding and sweet about it. I think I will have to shake off the feeling that they secretly resent me for my incompetence, because it won't be good to carry that around. And I think there are some extenuating circumstances. I trust that I still can learn the part with a little more time (unfortunately, we didn't have time for this particular portion of the project...).
It's just frustrating to bump up against your limitations. I don't really know how to deal with it. I'd like to blame it on my recent change of brain, but realistically that's not any sort of option. In this instance I'm forced to do the very uncomfortable- admit I just cannot do this thing in this moment, take the time to learn how to do it, and move on. Ugh, I don't like that feeling.
It seems an American value to be able to do anything, that it all depends on how hard you work. I still believe that to a large extent, and I'll keep at it, but the all American slogan "Just Do It" doesn't give a hint as to what to do in that period in which you are working. After all, it's not "Just Do It and If You Can't, Open Your Mind to Options, Do the Best You Can and Don't Be Too Hard On Yourself While Still Staying Committed to Doing It Eventually."
Yeah, I guess that doesn't really have the same ring to it.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
What a Pain in the Neck
I have an appointment with a chiropractor on Friday. I think I'm going to cancel it to go to this yoga class that has been recommended to me (thanks JK!!), but I am going to reschedule it. That's right, I want to see a chiropractor.
I don't know quite why this concerns me, but it does. It makes me feel old or something, even though I'm not going for anything serious. I just have some extra-special neck tension and my massage therapist suggested this guy. She says he can "realign me so I feel a tremendous release in these specific areas." Hey, I'm not going to pass that up.
So, I'm willing to try something new to take care of this particular thing I've been withstanding for awhile. It's gotten me thinking, what else in my life am I simply tolerating? Am I content to tolerate my life, parts of my life, anything in my life? Or if something doesn't work for me, can I just change it? Could I actually my life exactly what I want it to be?
Here's some of the things I'm putting up with:
1) An unsatisfying work environment
2) The heat
3) Feeling lonely (sometimes)
4) Being far away from my family
5) My weak high register
6) Back and neck tension
7) The 13 year old rug-rats I teach three nights a week
8) A small layer around my middle I'd be happy to do without
9) The heat
10) The Yucatecan concept of time
11) Chamber music classes I have to teach (sometimes)
12) The chimes player in this concert
13) Being surrounded by low expectations
I'm doing something about 2, 3, 5, 6, and 8. I'm stuck on numbers 1, 4, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12. (And yes, in case you're wondering, "The heat" and "the heat" are different. The former you can alleviate by going to an air conditioned space. The latter permeates AC, leaving you sticky, sleepy, and still feeling like you can't breathe.)
I don't enjoy the experience of putting up with stuff. It's unpleasant and doesn't make me want to get up in the morning. So I'm considering my options. Can I truly change my attitude? Can I fully accept? Can I let it go? Can I transform my relationship to the thing, given that the thing itself can probably not be transformed?
How in the world do I do that?
Some days I go to teach the rug-rats and I see them as adorable, lively, quick, intelligent, eager, and good kids. On those days I think I teach good classes, we all leave with something. Other days I see them complete wastes of time, spoiled little brats, respect-less, ignorant, puny punks. I don't know what makes the difference in how I see them, but I know it's possible, so I'm going to keep working on always going for number 1. I mean, if I have to be there, I might as well try. This applies to the chamber music classes as well.
I don't like being so far from my family, but I can accept it, justify it, email them, and look forward to visits. I can also accept the heat, remembering it too will pass. I can even accept the chimes player, if I count very slowly from 1 to 20 as she bangs out a completely rhythm-less series of notes in absolutely no relation to the ensemble 4 times in a row.
But I swear, numbers 1, 10 and 13 are just pissing me off and I don't know what to do. It's not good. I don't like to be pissed off.
As my new kick becomes a more legitimate pattern of habits (at least 2 hours of practice a day, listening, studying, exercising), I'm holding myself to a higher standard. I'm trying to push myself, improve, expect more of myself. This is an essential for any musician that wants to succeed, as we spend most of our actual playing time by ourselves in a little room. Ultimately, no one is going to hold our hand or do us any favors. Ultimately, it is about how we, all by ourselves, play. That challenge is inspiring to me, and I'm taking it on.
But it is frustrating to be surrounded by much of the opposite in the meantime. It's hard to not let it get to you. It's disappointing to not be asked to do your best. I'm not trying to criticize everyone else here, by the way. I'm talking more about wanting personally to be pushed by that around me. And there are plenty of people around me that are striving and succeeding. (Example: Heard this string quartet last night. They are really great, and I get to play with them every day, albeit a few feet away.) But there is a lot of settling, a lot of acceptance (in the negative way), a lot of sluffing off. And it's driving me nuts!!
Well, I won't put up with putting up with it. (Got that?)
So now I just have to figure out what I'm going to do instead.
I don't know quite why this concerns me, but it does. It makes me feel old or something, even though I'm not going for anything serious. I just have some extra-special neck tension and my massage therapist suggested this guy. She says he can "realign me so I feel a tremendous release in these specific areas." Hey, I'm not going to pass that up.
So, I'm willing to try something new to take care of this particular thing I've been withstanding for awhile. It's gotten me thinking, what else in my life am I simply tolerating? Am I content to tolerate my life, parts of my life, anything in my life? Or if something doesn't work for me, can I just change it? Could I actually my life exactly what I want it to be?
Here's some of the things I'm putting up with:
1) An unsatisfying work environment
2) The heat
3) Feeling lonely (sometimes)
4) Being far away from my family
5) My weak high register
6) Back and neck tension
7) The 13 year old rug-rats I teach three nights a week
8) A small layer around my middle I'd be happy to do without
9) The heat
10) The Yucatecan concept of time
11) Chamber music classes I have to teach (sometimes)
12) The chimes player in this concert
13) Being surrounded by low expectations
I'm doing something about 2, 3, 5, 6, and 8. I'm stuck on numbers 1, 4, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12. (And yes, in case you're wondering, "The heat" and "the heat" are different. The former you can alleviate by going to an air conditioned space. The latter permeates AC, leaving you sticky, sleepy, and still feeling like you can't breathe.)
I don't enjoy the experience of putting up with stuff. It's unpleasant and doesn't make me want to get up in the morning. So I'm considering my options. Can I truly change my attitude? Can I fully accept? Can I let it go? Can I transform my relationship to the thing, given that the thing itself can probably not be transformed?
How in the world do I do that?
Some days I go to teach the rug-rats and I see them as adorable, lively, quick, intelligent, eager, and good kids. On those days I think I teach good classes, we all leave with something. Other days I see them complete wastes of time, spoiled little brats, respect-less, ignorant, puny punks. I don't know what makes the difference in how I see them, but I know it's possible, so I'm going to keep working on always going for number 1. I mean, if I have to be there, I might as well try. This applies to the chamber music classes as well.
I don't like being so far from my family, but I can accept it, justify it, email them, and look forward to visits. I can also accept the heat, remembering it too will pass. I can even accept the chimes player, if I count very slowly from 1 to 20 as she bangs out a completely rhythm-less series of notes in absolutely no relation to the ensemble 4 times in a row.
But I swear, numbers 1, 10 and 13 are just pissing me off and I don't know what to do. It's not good. I don't like to be pissed off.
As my new kick becomes a more legitimate pattern of habits (at least 2 hours of practice a day, listening, studying, exercising), I'm holding myself to a higher standard. I'm trying to push myself, improve, expect more of myself. This is an essential for any musician that wants to succeed, as we spend most of our actual playing time by ourselves in a little room. Ultimately, no one is going to hold our hand or do us any favors. Ultimately, it is about how we, all by ourselves, play. That challenge is inspiring to me, and I'm taking it on.
But it is frustrating to be surrounded by much of the opposite in the meantime. It's hard to not let it get to you. It's disappointing to not be asked to do your best. I'm not trying to criticize everyone else here, by the way. I'm talking more about wanting personally to be pushed by that around me. And there are plenty of people around me that are striving and succeeding. (Example: Heard this string quartet last night. They are really great, and I get to play with them every day, albeit a few feet away.) But there is a lot of settling, a lot of acceptance (in the negative way), a lot of sluffing off. And it's driving me nuts!!
Well, I won't put up with putting up with it. (Got that?)
So now I just have to figure out what I'm going to do instead.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Social Butterfly or Hermit Crab?
I can't remember the last time I didn't go out at least once on a weekend. Truly. Between the laid back schedule, stable income, and no shortage of partying friends, I don't think I have spent both Friday and Saturday night alone since I moved here.
Until this weekend- duh duh duh.
Funny how my post about my totally calm and introspective weekend is starting to read like a dramatic tale...
The roomies are out of town, so I've decided to take advantage of having this big wonderful house (the first place 'round here that feels like home, by the way) to myself. Some of the activities I have participated in that I would never do while the roommates are home include- yoga in the living room, leaving various plates and cups in different corners of the house all day, listening to bachata ridiculously loudly on the main speakers and...well actually, I guess that's really it.
Both Friday and Saturday have consisted of sleeping late, practicing a lot, working out, and watching an entire season of Six Feet Under. Woo hoo.
I've loved every minute of it!
Friday morning my sleeping in was interrupted off and on (thanks for the text messages and annoying doorbell ringing, BP) but the knowledge that I could sleep in as long as I damn well pleased is really the fun part. This morning my sleeping in was entirely unintentional. The idea was to get up early and do some yoga before my three hour English conversation class, since I knew that would help it to not feel like 1 hour of fun and 2 hours of pulling teeth. However, all alarms failed to sound, and I woke up to the squeal of a cat at exactly 9:30. Not having a car and having to be somewhat far away at 10 was not a nice combination of circumstances in that moment. But it was fine.
I'm really getting back into a practice schedule that resembles that of what I need. I've done my maintainence routine every day for two weeks and it's amazing how that's basically what it took to make my not-so-new embouchure feel not-at-all-new. I'm comfortable all the way up to my new found, not fuzzy B-flat, and I'm starting to have a clue about the intonation tendencies of most notes. Still not a lot of endurance, but that should come.
I've been exercising consistently as well, and it feels great. It's gotten to the point where I look forward to it, rather than dread it, and that is the worst part of getting back into the habit. Yoga and running- both things I love because they exercise the body, the breath, and the mind, much my like my first true love...playing the horn.
And the Six Feet Under has been fun too. I'd say the fourth season is the worst so far (more drama, less point) but it's still totally entertaining. And I'm noticing how when I watch 5 hours of a TV show in one day I start to imagine my life as being like the TV show. Like I'll pause to look at a picture I've had in my room for a year and I imagine the camera zooming in and then cutting to a flashback or something...is that totally weird, or do other people do that too? Of course it doesn't hurt that on this particular show one of the characters is named Claire and another is actually a professional horn player (no way! There was one scene in which he was practicing and it was so funny because the focus was supposed to be this dynamic between him and his girlfriend and all I could think was, what etude is that...?)
Anyway, so it has been a very very low-key, disciplined weekend. I've accomplished every single thing I set out to do every day (there were some annoying errands and other to-do list items in there, promise) and that's felt really great. Nothing much has happened to me and I feel great. I've been thinking a lot about integrity and being committed to the stuff I care about. I haven't been lonely one second. It's weird.
So maybe what I need is not to fill up these holes I feel sometimes with parties, new friends, crazy conversations, or nights on the town. Maybe I need to get back to what's inside of me- my goals, values, peace of mind, and fill the holes from the inside out. Maybe I've been silly enough to not even realize this until recently. Maybe I've been lucky enough to figure it out now.
Oh, and the worrying is over. It's true, he had a pretty darn good excuse but I haven't bothered to call him since. Alas...
Until this weekend- duh duh duh.
Funny how my post about my totally calm and introspective weekend is starting to read like a dramatic tale...
The roomies are out of town, so I've decided to take advantage of having this big wonderful house (the first place 'round here that feels like home, by the way) to myself. Some of the activities I have participated in that I would never do while the roommates are home include- yoga in the living room, leaving various plates and cups in different corners of the house all day, listening to bachata ridiculously loudly on the main speakers and...well actually, I guess that's really it.
Both Friday and Saturday have consisted of sleeping late, practicing a lot, working out, and watching an entire season of Six Feet Under. Woo hoo.
I've loved every minute of it!
Friday morning my sleeping in was interrupted off and on (thanks for the text messages and annoying doorbell ringing, BP) but the knowledge that I could sleep in as long as I damn well pleased is really the fun part. This morning my sleeping in was entirely unintentional. The idea was to get up early and do some yoga before my three hour English conversation class, since I knew that would help it to not feel like 1 hour of fun and 2 hours of pulling teeth. However, all alarms failed to sound, and I woke up to the squeal of a cat at exactly 9:30. Not having a car and having to be somewhat far away at 10 was not a nice combination of circumstances in that moment. But it was fine.
I'm really getting back into a practice schedule that resembles that of what I need. I've done my maintainence routine every day for two weeks and it's amazing how that's basically what it took to make my not-so-new embouchure feel not-at-all-new. I'm comfortable all the way up to my new found, not fuzzy B-flat, and I'm starting to have a clue about the intonation tendencies of most notes. Still not a lot of endurance, but that should come.
I've been exercising consistently as well, and it feels great. It's gotten to the point where I look forward to it, rather than dread it, and that is the worst part of getting back into the habit. Yoga and running- both things I love because they exercise the body, the breath, and the mind, much my like my first true love...playing the horn.
And the Six Feet Under has been fun too. I'd say the fourth season is the worst so far (more drama, less point) but it's still totally entertaining. And I'm noticing how when I watch 5 hours of a TV show in one day I start to imagine my life as being like the TV show. Like I'll pause to look at a picture I've had in my room for a year and I imagine the camera zooming in and then cutting to a flashback or something...is that totally weird, or do other people do that too? Of course it doesn't hurt that on this particular show one of the characters is named Claire and another is actually a professional horn player (no way! There was one scene in which he was practicing and it was so funny because the focus was supposed to be this dynamic between him and his girlfriend and all I could think was, what etude is that...?)
Anyway, so it has been a very very low-key, disciplined weekend. I've accomplished every single thing I set out to do every day (there were some annoying errands and other to-do list items in there, promise) and that's felt really great. Nothing much has happened to me and I feel great. I've been thinking a lot about integrity and being committed to the stuff I care about. I haven't been lonely one second. It's weird.
So maybe what I need is not to fill up these holes I feel sometimes with parties, new friends, crazy conversations, or nights on the town. Maybe I need to get back to what's inside of me- my goals, values, peace of mind, and fill the holes from the inside out. Maybe I've been silly enough to not even realize this until recently. Maybe I've been lucky enough to figure it out now.
Oh, and the worrying is over. It's true, he had a pretty darn good excuse but I haven't bothered to call him since. Alas...
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Worry Wart
I've been kind of a worry wart lately. In an age of cell phones, wireless internet, and Facebook, when someone is out of communication for more than 5 days you start to wonder. And then you start to worry.
My grandparents are the biggest worriers. (Speaking of my grandparents, my mom just informed me that she prints out my blog posts and mails them to them, since they are not "online." How cute is that? Hi guys! Love you and miss you!) Really, they worry if you are two minutes late. I've taken to calling them on the way to their house to say I'll be there in half an hour when really it's more like 15 minutes, just so they won't worry so much when I'm not early. They wouldn't make it in Mexico, where "6:00" means anywhere fom 6:15 to 6:45. But I'm getting away from my point.
My mother is a pretty big worrier herself. I actually really admire her for letting me go all around the world without too many panic attacks. The look on her face when I told her I was going to Mexico City at the ripe old age of 19 was not one of excitement. Nor when I got the news I'd be going on tour to Venezuela, Colombia and Argentina the next year. Or moving to Mexico a year after that. Or wanting to go to Cuba. ;)
So let's see...grandparents? Worriers. Mother? Worrier. Father? Semi-worrier. ME? Oh shit, I'm a worrier too.
Now it's true, I've been able to deny this fact for a good long time. I can roll my eyes at my mother's concerns, play it extra-cool when talking about my travels, be young and carefree.
But it's time to confess. I've been a worry wart my whole life.
Back in the days before a driver's license, when my parents would pick me up from rehearsals, if they were more than 5 minutes late I would start freaking out, sure that they had been in a car accident and were at that very moment gasping their last breaths in a hospital somewhere. Of course that was never the case, but the pictures running through my mind were gruesome.
Worry in Spanish is preocupación, which is a word that doesn't look too unfamiliar to English speakers either. But it's worth picking apart. Pre- (before) occupation (taking possession), or "a taking possession beforehand." And isn't this, after all, exactly what worry is. Taking possession of the situation in your mind, before you have any idea what's actually going on.
As human beings (or maybe this is just me?!?) we are obsessed with resolving situations. Explanations, reasons, excuses, closure, wrapping things up are all essential to our fragile illusion of having peace of mind. So, if you don't know what's going on with something, because something out of the ordinary occurred, you make something up. You "take hold of the situation" before knowing it in reality. And usually you insert the worst.
So, I got stood up on Friday and I haven't heard from him since. Insert the worst here.
Unfortunately, in this situation, there are many "the worst" possibilities.
1) He completely stood me up and doesn't care, thus not calling to explain/apologize and making me never want to see him again.
2) He totally forgot and is a super-flake who I don't really want to invest any more time in.
3) He is in the hospital or worse.
4) He plans to never see or talk to me again, out of the blue, AND he has my flash drive cable.
5) Friday plans were totally casual, not firm, as is our relationship (which is great!) and I am a clueless weirdo that didn't understand that.
I really do not want to be worrying about this, it's a pain in the neck. But I cannot help it, and I'm at a complete loss as to what to do. Any counseling on this item is welcome.
And then, to top it all off, I am reminded that terrible things actually do happen to people in your circle of the world.
It is nice to go through the world thinking that stuff like that will never happen to you or anyone you care about (no diseases, sudden deaths, kidnappings, serious crimes). Really, how would we survive any other way? But the truth is, these things do happen, and to all of us. I have known many people who have passed on, a few much too soon. This has happened and will continue to happen. This is bad news, but I guess part of maturing is seeing this, and accepting this aspect of life.
And worrying.
My grandparents are the biggest worriers. (Speaking of my grandparents, my mom just informed me that she prints out my blog posts and mails them to them, since they are not "online." How cute is that? Hi guys! Love you and miss you!) Really, they worry if you are two minutes late. I've taken to calling them on the way to their house to say I'll be there in half an hour when really it's more like 15 minutes, just so they won't worry so much when I'm not early. They wouldn't make it in Mexico, where "6:00" means anywhere fom 6:15 to 6:45. But I'm getting away from my point.
My mother is a pretty big worrier herself. I actually really admire her for letting me go all around the world without too many panic attacks. The look on her face when I told her I was going to Mexico City at the ripe old age of 19 was not one of excitement. Nor when I got the news I'd be going on tour to Venezuela, Colombia and Argentina the next year. Or moving to Mexico a year after that. Or wanting to go to Cuba. ;)
So let's see...grandparents? Worriers. Mother? Worrier. Father? Semi-worrier. ME? Oh shit, I'm a worrier too.
Now it's true, I've been able to deny this fact for a good long time. I can roll my eyes at my mother's concerns, play it extra-cool when talking about my travels, be young and carefree.
But it's time to confess. I've been a worry wart my whole life.
Back in the days before a driver's license, when my parents would pick me up from rehearsals, if they were more than 5 minutes late I would start freaking out, sure that they had been in a car accident and were at that very moment gasping their last breaths in a hospital somewhere. Of course that was never the case, but the pictures running through my mind were gruesome.
Worry in Spanish is preocupación, which is a word that doesn't look too unfamiliar to English speakers either. But it's worth picking apart. Pre- (before) occupation (taking possession), or "a taking possession beforehand." And isn't this, after all, exactly what worry is. Taking possession of the situation in your mind, before you have any idea what's actually going on.
As human beings (or maybe this is just me?!?) we are obsessed with resolving situations. Explanations, reasons, excuses, closure, wrapping things up are all essential to our fragile illusion of having peace of mind. So, if you don't know what's going on with something, because something out of the ordinary occurred, you make something up. You "take hold of the situation" before knowing it in reality. And usually you insert the worst.
So, I got stood up on Friday and I haven't heard from him since. Insert the worst here.
Unfortunately, in this situation, there are many "the worst" possibilities.
1) He completely stood me up and doesn't care, thus not calling to explain/apologize and making me never want to see him again.
2) He totally forgot and is a super-flake who I don't really want to invest any more time in.
3) He is in the hospital or worse.
4) He plans to never see or talk to me again, out of the blue, AND he has my flash drive cable.
5) Friday plans were totally casual, not firm, as is our relationship (which is great!) and I am a clueless weirdo that didn't understand that.
I really do not want to be worrying about this, it's a pain in the neck. But I cannot help it, and I'm at a complete loss as to what to do. Any counseling on this item is welcome.
And then, to top it all off, I am reminded that terrible things actually do happen to people in your circle of the world.
It is nice to go through the world thinking that stuff like that will never happen to you or anyone you care about (no diseases, sudden deaths, kidnappings, serious crimes). Really, how would we survive any other way? But the truth is, these things do happen, and to all of us. I have known many people who have passed on, a few much too soon. This has happened and will continue to happen. This is bad news, but I guess part of maturing is seeing this, and accepting this aspect of life.
And worrying.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Mal
That's right, I'm talking about your typical over-sized shopping center, and it makes me feel baaaad.
Why, then, have I been spending an exorbitant amount of time there lately it seems? I think I've been 3 times in the last 2 weeks, which makes me feel really disgusting. The first time I had to go to run a bunch of errands that I was sure could be accomplished at "Gran Plaza." The second time was to re-try 5 of the 6 errands since you can never get anything done on the first try in Mexico. (No, I can't tell you which one you need from those three numbers, you need this other number, etc, etc.) The third time was to try to buy a few more clothing items I determined I needed (ahem, wanted) on the second trip.
When I'm heading to The Mall, my hopes are always high. I try to think of the positive things- ¡air conditioning! ¡Segafredo!...uh... I try to approach it like "the modern equivalent of an open air market."
But then I arrive and I'm reminded of why I hate The Mall. Sometimes I'm reminded of it on the bus, if a group of teeny-boppers headed to The Mall gets on.
Although the air conditioning does make everything look more rosy, I still see the 13 year old girls in their 18 year old outfits, the over-priced, under-sized slew of clothing stores, the endless rows of cell-phone booths, the astonishing amount of English posted everywhere (since most of the stores are American). In fact, Gran Plaza's own slogan is even "It's Time to Shopping!" (Yeah, no kidding, way to go on the grammar check on that one guys.)
Going to the area of the city where The Mall is located is also kind of bizarre. You ride way far north, and then get off the bus and look down the road (which is wider, faster, and cleaner than your typical road in this city) and see Sears, McDonalds, Sam's Club, Home Depot and PeMex. BUT, the PeMex is the only one I've ever seen that actually has a convenient store as a part of itself-American style. So it's a bit like walking into another world which, as an American living here, is simultaneously comforting and frightening.
I guess I'm not certain what it is about The Mall that makes me feel so violently nauseous by the end. It might just be that I'm participating and I don't like to admit it. It's true, I do really like the 1...2...3...4...5...6...7 items of clothing I've bought lately (and I haven't bought clothes since I moved here...I swear), but I have an almost allergic reaction when I think about having spent that money on them. As if a part of me wants to be that kind of person that doesn't care at all about her appearance, and then the other part of me has to knock that part upside the head and remind her that we actually do care. But I swear, something about all those stores lined up right next to each other, and all those people going from store to store, just sucks the soul out of me. Truly, I leave feeling like my soul has been sucked out. I can't explain it any other way.
You know, writing about this, and knowing that I won't be going to The Mall for a very long time again, has made me feel a lot better about it. And I do really like the new pants I'm wearing.
Why, then, have I been spending an exorbitant amount of time there lately it seems? I think I've been 3 times in the last 2 weeks, which makes me feel really disgusting. The first time I had to go to run a bunch of errands that I was sure could be accomplished at "Gran Plaza." The second time was to re-try 5 of the 6 errands since you can never get anything done on the first try in Mexico. (No, I can't tell you which one you need from those three numbers, you need this other number, etc, etc.) The third time was to try to buy a few more clothing items I determined I needed (ahem, wanted) on the second trip.
When I'm heading to The Mall, my hopes are always high. I try to think of the positive things- ¡air conditioning! ¡Segafredo!...uh... I try to approach it like "the modern equivalent of an open air market."
But then I arrive and I'm reminded of why I hate The Mall. Sometimes I'm reminded of it on the bus, if a group of teeny-boppers headed to The Mall gets on.
Although the air conditioning does make everything look more rosy, I still see the 13 year old girls in their 18 year old outfits, the over-priced, under-sized slew of clothing stores, the endless rows of cell-phone booths, the astonishing amount of English posted everywhere (since most of the stores are American). In fact, Gran Plaza's own slogan is even "It's Time to Shopping!" (Yeah, no kidding, way to go on the grammar check on that one guys.)
Going to the area of the city where The Mall is located is also kind of bizarre. You ride way far north, and then get off the bus and look down the road (which is wider, faster, and cleaner than your typical road in this city) and see Sears, McDonalds, Sam's Club, Home Depot and PeMex. BUT, the PeMex is the only one I've ever seen that actually has a convenient store as a part of itself-American style. So it's a bit like walking into another world which, as an American living here, is simultaneously comforting and frightening.
I guess I'm not certain what it is about The Mall that makes me feel so violently nauseous by the end. It might just be that I'm participating and I don't like to admit it. It's true, I do really like the 1...2...3...4...5...6...7 items of clothing I've bought lately (and I haven't bought clothes since I moved here...I swear), but I have an almost allergic reaction when I think about having spent that money on them. As if a part of me wants to be that kind of person that doesn't care at all about her appearance, and then the other part of me has to knock that part upside the head and remind her that we actually do care. But I swear, something about all those stores lined up right next to each other, and all those people going from store to store, just sucks the soul out of me. Truly, I leave feeling like my soul has been sucked out. I can't explain it any other way.
You know, writing about this, and knowing that I won't be going to The Mall for a very long time again, has made me feel a lot better about it. And I do really like the new pants I'm wearing.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Quotes, Rumors, and Suspicions
"Everyone has to be a leader." -JD"
"First you have to realize it. Then you have to want to change. Then you have to change. :)" -JD
"I think hope is almost a delicate thing and people treat it like it's the bad guy. I would just say be careful that you don't make it mean too much if it doesn't work out. If you hope and you don't get it that doesn't negate the hope." -JS
"You know the difference between hopeless and hopeful? A little more hope." -JP
"Don't over-analyze." -CM
These are some things people have said lately that I've gotten something out of. They aren't inherently profound, but they've struck me as such. Besides, the people that have said them are smart and know me pretty well, which definitely adds weight. As usual, they seem to apply to all areas of my life.
My idea of being a low horn player is evolving from one of, "follow the person to your left exactly" into, "know exactly what you're doing and how you want to sound, play your part like that, and listen very very well to the person on your left." Or something like that. I'm trying not to over-analyze it, and I hope I'm doing a good job.
In other areas (aka, the dreaded dating front...duh duh duh...) I'm behaving differently as well. I've really learned a lot about myself in the past year in this area. Realizations---desire to change---change. Maybe. Abracadabra. Well, it's really not that simple, but I am seeing things from a different angle, and a lot more satisfied because of it. Basically, I'm just living my life, taking what I can get, and hoping for the best. Period. This may not last (this mentality or the dude). That's OK.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It is rumored that it is official that we will have a new music director come August. This is the best news "around the water cooler" that I've heard, well, ever, since I've been here. (Actually, we really do have a water cooler back stage and sometimes when everyone's standing around it I think, Wow, I never imagined Dilbert or Office Space would apply to my line of work. But there it is.)
Again, I find myself being afraid to hope that it will really happen. It would be so amazing to have my second year here be one of change, in which the orchestra really grows. There would definitely be a lot CH's- changes, challenges and chaos, but it's the necessary thing.
I'm waiting for an official announcement of some kind, but even then, expecting the expected is dangerous in Mexico.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I suspect the average Yucatan is totally weirded out by the sight of me biking by. My skin is white, my bike is pink, I have a funny shaped black case on my back. I'm often listenng to my iPod and sometimes wearing a skirt.
I know it's not often-ok, never-seen around here. But for Pete's Sake, you don't have to do 4 double takes!! (Would that be a quadruple take?) That's just rude!
My other suspicion is that I'm in a blog rut. Of course, yesterday I had a million post ideas. But every time I went to my blog I got this weird Apache/cPanel page (if anyone can tell me how to fix THAT, I'd appreciate it. For now, I'm just using Safari instead of FireFox, but that's not my ideal choice.) And so, the ideas just kept coming (oh so ironic) and I just kept getting more frustrated.
Perhaps I need to re-work my personal blog mission. It used to be a lot of lists. Then I went through a sort of vignette stage. I guess there was a complaining period. What's next?
"First you have to realize it. Then you have to want to change. Then you have to change. :)" -JD
"I think hope is almost a delicate thing and people treat it like it's the bad guy. I would just say be careful that you don't make it mean too much if it doesn't work out. If you hope and you don't get it that doesn't negate the hope." -JS
"You know the difference between hopeless and hopeful? A little more hope." -JP
"Don't over-analyze." -CM
These are some things people have said lately that I've gotten something out of. They aren't inherently profound, but they've struck me as such. Besides, the people that have said them are smart and know me pretty well, which definitely adds weight. As usual, they seem to apply to all areas of my life.
My idea of being a low horn player is evolving from one of, "follow the person to your left exactly" into, "know exactly what you're doing and how you want to sound, play your part like that, and listen very very well to the person on your left." Or something like that. I'm trying not to over-analyze it, and I hope I'm doing a good job.
In other areas (aka, the dreaded dating front...duh duh duh...) I'm behaving differently as well. I've really learned a lot about myself in the past year in this area. Realizations---desire to change---change. Maybe. Abracadabra. Well, it's really not that simple, but I am seeing things from a different angle, and a lot more satisfied because of it. Basically, I'm just living my life, taking what I can get, and hoping for the best. Period. This may not last (this mentality or the dude). That's OK.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It is rumored that it is official that we will have a new music director come August. This is the best news "around the water cooler" that I've heard, well, ever, since I've been here. (Actually, we really do have a water cooler back stage and sometimes when everyone's standing around it I think, Wow, I never imagined Dilbert or Office Space would apply to my line of work. But there it is.)
Again, I find myself being afraid to hope that it will really happen. It would be so amazing to have my second year here be one of change, in which the orchestra really grows. There would definitely be a lot CH's- changes, challenges and chaos, but it's the necessary thing.
I'm waiting for an official announcement of some kind, but even then, expecting the expected is dangerous in Mexico.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I suspect the average Yucatan is totally weirded out by the sight of me biking by. My skin is white, my bike is pink, I have a funny shaped black case on my back. I'm often listenng to my iPod and sometimes wearing a skirt.
I know it's not often-ok, never-seen around here. But for Pete's Sake, you don't have to do 4 double takes!! (Would that be a quadruple take?) That's just rude!
My other suspicion is that I'm in a blog rut. Of course, yesterday I had a million post ideas. But every time I went to my blog I got this weird Apache/cPanel page (if anyone can tell me how to fix THAT, I'd appreciate it. For now, I'm just using Safari instead of FireFox, but that's not my ideal choice.) And so, the ideas just kept coming (oh so ironic) and I just kept getting more frustrated.
Perhaps I need to re-work my personal blog mission. It used to be a lot of lists. Then I went through a sort of vignette stage. I guess there was a complaining period. What's next?
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
What If...What Then?
What if every rehearsal started and ended on time?
If everyone returned phone calls in a timely fashion?
If everyone had the same idea of professionalism and acted accordingly?
If no one ever played sharp?
If 4/4 bars were never conducted in 6 by accident?
If stupid mistakes with recording equipment were never made?
If intimate moments were never made horribly awkward by stupid comments?
If everyone always cleaned up after themselves, literally and figuratively?
If students called ahead to let you know they weren't going to show up, always?
If everyone came prepared?
If the person you wanted to hang out with had a schedule compatible with yours?
If no one ever called each other names, no one ever lost their cool?
If everyone interpreted situations alike, resulting in no more mis-communications?
If everyone liked the same music, and therefore no one disliked the music you like?
If everyone saw things the same way?
If everyone understood you?
If everyone always agreed?
What then?
Take away all that, and you're taking away quite a bit of what makes up your day. Conflict, disappointment, less than perfection is exactly the stuff that life is made of. But maybe all-of-the-above is not so negative after all. Maybe it is just the turns life gives, the cards you are dealt, and each new situation is to be embraced, or confronted, or considered. Where there are upsets, there are breakthroughs. And besides, if all-of the-above was always, you wouldn't really appreciate it anyway. Hmmm....nice.
*Side note: this post is not meant to imply I'm in a bad mood. It's true, rehearsals lately have been pretty rough. But I've actually still been in a pretty great mood. So this post is actually optimistic, not pessimistic, I just decided to come at it from a different angle. Not sure if it works. Trying it on. More concrete news and reflections in the near future.
If everyone returned phone calls in a timely fashion?
If everyone had the same idea of professionalism and acted accordingly?
If no one ever played sharp?
If 4/4 bars were never conducted in 6 by accident?
If stupid mistakes with recording equipment were never made?
If intimate moments were never made horribly awkward by stupid comments?
If everyone always cleaned up after themselves, literally and figuratively?
If students called ahead to let you know they weren't going to show up, always?
If everyone came prepared?
If the person you wanted to hang out with had a schedule compatible with yours?
If no one ever called each other names, no one ever lost their cool?
If everyone interpreted situations alike, resulting in no more mis-communications?
If everyone liked the same music, and therefore no one disliked the music you like?
If everyone saw things the same way?
If everyone understood you?
If everyone always agreed?
What then?
Take away all that, and you're taking away quite a bit of what makes up your day. Conflict, disappointment, less than perfection is exactly the stuff that life is made of. But maybe all-of-the-above is not so negative after all. Maybe it is just the turns life gives, the cards you are dealt, and each new situation is to be embraced, or confronted, or considered. Where there are upsets, there are breakthroughs. And besides, if all-of the-above was always, you wouldn't really appreciate it anyway. Hmmm....nice.
*Side note: this post is not meant to imply I'm in a bad mood. It's true, rehearsals lately have been pretty rough. But I've actually still been in a pretty great mood. So this post is actually optimistic, not pessimistic, I just decided to come at it from a different angle. Not sure if it works. Trying it on. More concrete news and reflections in the near future.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Acceptance is a Beautiful Thing
In a field full of rejection, there is nothing quite as sweet as getting an email that actually says, "You have been accepted." No "due to the exceptionally large number of applicants this year...", no "at this time we are not able to..." no "thank you for your interest in..." no alternates, no no's.
Just acceptance!
So, now I have something to look forward to this summer-Madeline Island Music Camp. It was one of the only summer programs that didn't conflict with my priorities for the summer- my job and two of my best friends' weddings. I get to play in a Woodwind Quintet (something I've never really done), work with the Fourth Horn player of the Chicago Symphony, and re-visit a beautiful place I first went to in 8th grade on a memorable vacation with my mom. She's even going to come up at the end and we're going to spend a few days together!
So, I'm enjoying acceptance for a few minutes. And then I have to listen to more takes of Mozart and put together a recording, get to FedEx to send off more applications, and try not to be too hopeful for more acceptances.
Just acceptance!
So, now I have something to look forward to this summer-Madeline Island Music Camp. It was one of the only summer programs that didn't conflict with my priorities for the summer- my job and two of my best friends' weddings. I get to play in a Woodwind Quintet (something I've never really done), work with the Fourth Horn player of the Chicago Symphony, and re-visit a beautiful place I first went to in 8th grade on a memorable vacation with my mom. She's even going to come up at the end and we're going to spend a few days together!
So, I'm enjoying acceptance for a few minutes. And then I have to listen to more takes of Mozart and put together a recording, get to FedEx to send off more applications, and try not to be too hopeful for more acceptances.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
May Day! May Day!: An Inquiry
Sometimes I feel like I am crashing, like I have no idea why I chose the profession I did, like I have no chance of succeeding at it, and like trying to play the horn at a high level is about the silliest thing I could ever attempt. I recorded Mozart's 3rd Horn Concerto this weekend to send to a few summer music festivals. I just listened to it.
This is usually when the crashing feeling sets in.
It's become necessary to attempt, in writing, to screw my head on straight once again, and approach this with a mature, reasonable, positive, productive, and cucumber (as in, "as cool as a") outlook. There were sooo many good things in this recording. My sound is much fuller, clearer, hornistic, and enjoyable than pre-embouchure change. My intonation is improving as well (related to the sound, they are one in the same, after all). I am starting to have a firm idea of what I want my Mozart to sound like- tempos, style, etc. My pianist did a pretty good job.
Moreover, it was probably 100 degrees in the room. The piano was junky. I changed my embouchure 2 months ago. My pianist has never accompanied a wind instrument before, nor played a Mozart orchestral reduction. The room wasn't exactly flattering sound-wise. But these are all excuses, and I'm sick of using them. In fact, I think my excuses have helped to hold me back in the last 6 years. I guess I'll have to add that to the To Do List: Stop using excuses.
So, all things considered, it was pretty good.
But whenever I hear a lemon note, an accidental wah-wah, a hiccup in a trill, whatever, I start to feel this impending dread, like maybe I'm not even really capable of being any sort of professional horn player.
*Insert self-slap-up-side-the-head here.*
I think we all go through these experiences of self-doubt. Musicians, med students, writers, dress-makers, gas-pumpers, everyone. What if we aren't any good at what we do? What if we shouldn't be doing it? What if everyone is laughing at us behind our back?
My answer to this has always been that it doesn't matter. Maybe I'm not any good. Maybe I shouldn't be doing it. People probably have laughed, are laughing, and will be laughing. But this is not why I'm trying to play music every day, for a living, for a life. As much as I hate to quote a movie with Nicholas Cage in it, I really love the quote from Adaptation, "We are not what loves us, we are what we love." And I really love playing the horn. I really love playing classical music. I really love all music. So I will continue to do it, lemon notes, laughing, excuses and all.
The crashing feeling has subsided substantially by this point.
A few months ago, a close family friend asked me some provoking questions about what it is I like so much about playing classical music. I liked his questions because they made me really think about it, question myself, and end up all the more sure of my answers.
First, he described a jazz performance he saw that he really enjoyed.
"And what I loved about it was that they were all playing -- I don't mean playing music, I mean playing, as one plays a game. They were playing with their instruments, not just playing their instruments, and they were playing like playmates -- bouncing stuff off each other as they went along, making musical jokes, being outrageous, challenging each other."
Next, he confronted me honestly and frankly.
"But it seems to me that the play ingredient isn't (can't be) present in classical orchestras, or probably even chamber music. And I was wondering how much fun could it possibly be, in comparison, to play classical music versus music where you could play and invent as you went along... I found myself thinking that it really couldn't be compare (as pure fun), no matter how good it sounded."
My personal reaction was surprisingly frantic. I wanted to shout, "nooooo! It IS as fun!"
First of all, I really love his description of the jazz performance. I love seeing that type of thing on stage. It really gets to the core of what musicians, or any artists I suppose, are trying to do- communicate. It's all about personal interaction- if it's not for that, it doesn't really work. It's true, in classical music, some of this personal communication is/has been lost. Put 80+ people on an elevated stage, put 'em in tuxes, put a guy with a big stick on a box in between them and the audience, dim the lights, require applause for this concertmaster-dude, whatever that is, honk a tuning note, require applause for the guy with the big stick, require silence, OK, now you can communicate and get something substantial.
It's a bit strange.
But I think it's really there. And something that big (a symphony orchestra performance of a work that's existed for decades to centuries) can't be exactly spontaneous.
The crashing has turned into more of a spinning now.
The other thing that comes to mind, is that classical music is really hard. I mean it's really not often very well done. But when it is well done, it is "outrageous, challenging, making musical jokes." I think Mozart and Haydn are hilarious. I mean, I have actually often laughed out loud when I hear their music. As I have with Berlioz, Stravinsky, Beethoven.
Part of it is understanding the context. The more I listen to classical music, learn about it, get to know it, the more I enjoy it. The more I hear. The more I take from it. The more I want more. It, and the kind of jazz my friend was describing, are the only genres of music I know that grow and grow for me. Don't get me wrong, I looooove pop music. Love it. Can't get enough. But I always want to find new artists, new songs, new albums. I can't listen to the same song 50 times and have each time be a new experience. You can't re-interpret a pop song many times and have it work (well, rarely, maybe Bob Dylan tunes).
I've often described classical music to my "laymen" (non-musician) friends in the following way: Classical Music is to Pop Music as a Novel is to a Magazine, a Masterpiece Play to a TV Show, a Gourmet Meal to a Big Mac, a Long-Term Relationship to a Fling. The latter is totally fun, great, entertaining, yummy, and fading. The former takes effort, focus, commitment, but ultimately is more intriguing, satisfying, and lasting.
I would say, when done really well, classical music "plays" a great deal. I'm reminded of the Principal Trumpeter of the Minnesota Orchestra telling me about performing The Messiah. The oboist changed the ornamentation every night- she would play a line with certain ornaments, and the trumpeter was supposed to copy exactly. Every night got more and more complicated. He just barely kept up, and was laughing and beaming more every time.
When a piece is really clicking, everything feels like play- passing off lines, fitting harmonies into melodies, making rhythms come alive. Beethoven dances. Brahms breathes. It's all there.
But it doesn't just play. Sometimes it weeps, screams, haunts. Sometimes it's quite ugly. Sometimes it's unpleasant to listen to. Sometimes it hurts. And I love that too. Because life isn't all play, and I don't wish it was.
So, I love classical music, and it's a love that has continued to grow since I decided I wanted to be a horn player when I was fourteen. I don't think it will ever cease to evolve. So I'll take it, self-doubt, personal imperfections, intonation problems and new embouchures included.
The crashing feeling has completely vanished, and I'm inspired once again.
I think I need to practice.
This is usually when the crashing feeling sets in.
It's become necessary to attempt, in writing, to screw my head on straight once again, and approach this with a mature, reasonable, positive, productive, and cucumber (as in, "as cool as a") outlook. There were sooo many good things in this recording. My sound is much fuller, clearer, hornistic, and enjoyable than pre-embouchure change. My intonation is improving as well (related to the sound, they are one in the same, after all). I am starting to have a firm idea of what I want my Mozart to sound like- tempos, style, etc. My pianist did a pretty good job.
Moreover, it was probably 100 degrees in the room. The piano was junky. I changed my embouchure 2 months ago. My pianist has never accompanied a wind instrument before, nor played a Mozart orchestral reduction. The room wasn't exactly flattering sound-wise. But these are all excuses, and I'm sick of using them. In fact, I think my excuses have helped to hold me back in the last 6 years. I guess I'll have to add that to the To Do List: Stop using excuses.
So, all things considered, it was pretty good.
But whenever I hear a lemon note, an accidental wah-wah, a hiccup in a trill, whatever, I start to feel this impending dread, like maybe I'm not even really capable of being any sort of professional horn player.
*Insert self-slap-up-side-the-head here.*
I think we all go through these experiences of self-doubt. Musicians, med students, writers, dress-makers, gas-pumpers, everyone. What if we aren't any good at what we do? What if we shouldn't be doing it? What if everyone is laughing at us behind our back?
My answer to this has always been that it doesn't matter. Maybe I'm not any good. Maybe I shouldn't be doing it. People probably have laughed, are laughing, and will be laughing. But this is not why I'm trying to play music every day, for a living, for a life. As much as I hate to quote a movie with Nicholas Cage in it, I really love the quote from Adaptation, "We are not what loves us, we are what we love." And I really love playing the horn. I really love playing classical music. I really love all music. So I will continue to do it, lemon notes, laughing, excuses and all.
The crashing feeling has subsided substantially by this point.
A few months ago, a close family friend asked me some provoking questions about what it is I like so much about playing classical music. I liked his questions because they made me really think about it, question myself, and end up all the more sure of my answers.
First, he described a jazz performance he saw that he really enjoyed.
"And what I loved about it was that they were all playing -- I don't mean playing music, I mean playing, as one plays a game. They were playing with their instruments, not just playing their instruments, and they were playing like playmates -- bouncing stuff off each other as they went along, making musical jokes, being outrageous, challenging each other."
Next, he confronted me honestly and frankly.
"But it seems to me that the play ingredient isn't (can't be) present in classical orchestras, or probably even chamber music. And I was wondering how much fun could it possibly be, in comparison, to play classical music versus music where you could play and invent as you went along... I found myself thinking that it really couldn't be compare (as pure fun), no matter how good it sounded."
My personal reaction was surprisingly frantic. I wanted to shout, "nooooo! It IS as fun!"
First of all, I really love his description of the jazz performance. I love seeing that type of thing on stage. It really gets to the core of what musicians, or any artists I suppose, are trying to do- communicate. It's all about personal interaction- if it's not for that, it doesn't really work. It's true, in classical music, some of this personal communication is/has been lost. Put 80+ people on an elevated stage, put 'em in tuxes, put a guy with a big stick on a box in between them and the audience, dim the lights, require applause for this concertmaster-dude, whatever that is, honk a tuning note, require applause for the guy with the big stick, require silence, OK, now you can communicate and get something substantial.
It's a bit strange.
But I think it's really there. And something that big (a symphony orchestra performance of a work that's existed for decades to centuries) can't be exactly spontaneous.
The crashing has turned into more of a spinning now.
The other thing that comes to mind, is that classical music is really hard. I mean it's really not often very well done. But when it is well done, it is "outrageous, challenging, making musical jokes." I think Mozart and Haydn are hilarious. I mean, I have actually often laughed out loud when I hear their music. As I have with Berlioz, Stravinsky, Beethoven.
Part of it is understanding the context. The more I listen to classical music, learn about it, get to know it, the more I enjoy it. The more I hear. The more I take from it. The more I want more. It, and the kind of jazz my friend was describing, are the only genres of music I know that grow and grow for me. Don't get me wrong, I looooove pop music. Love it. Can't get enough. But I always want to find new artists, new songs, new albums. I can't listen to the same song 50 times and have each time be a new experience. You can't re-interpret a pop song many times and have it work (well, rarely, maybe Bob Dylan tunes).
I've often described classical music to my "laymen" (non-musician) friends in the following way: Classical Music is to Pop Music as a Novel is to a Magazine, a Masterpiece Play to a TV Show, a Gourmet Meal to a Big Mac, a Long-Term Relationship to a Fling. The latter is totally fun, great, entertaining, yummy, and fading. The former takes effort, focus, commitment, but ultimately is more intriguing, satisfying, and lasting.
I would say, when done really well, classical music "plays" a great deal. I'm reminded of the Principal Trumpeter of the Minnesota Orchestra telling me about performing The Messiah. The oboist changed the ornamentation every night- she would play a line with certain ornaments, and the trumpeter was supposed to copy exactly. Every night got more and more complicated. He just barely kept up, and was laughing and beaming more every time.
When a piece is really clicking, everything feels like play- passing off lines, fitting harmonies into melodies, making rhythms come alive. Beethoven dances. Brahms breathes. It's all there.
But it doesn't just play. Sometimes it weeps, screams, haunts. Sometimes it's quite ugly. Sometimes it's unpleasant to listen to. Sometimes it hurts. And I love that too. Because life isn't all play, and I don't wish it was.
So, I love classical music, and it's a love that has continued to grow since I decided I wanted to be a horn player when I was fourteen. I don't think it will ever cease to evolve. So I'll take it, self-doubt, personal imperfections, intonation problems and new embouchures included.
The crashing feeling has completely vanished, and I'm inspired once again.
I think I need to practice.
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