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...
Thursday, May 31, 2007
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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