1. THE A MUST BE LIKE THE VOICE OF G-D.
2. Play what's on the page if you want to advance in the audition.
3. Two words: Naxos subscription.
4. I apparently play the double bass.
5. You cannot make a grilled cheese sandwich in a toaster.
6. However, it is a valid protest against lack of vegetarian food.
7. If you sleep through the first five minutes of rehearsal once, you will wake up in a cold sweat every morning 30 minutes before your alarm goes off freaking out that you're missing rehearsal. This is considered normal. Even on weekends.
8. Yes, you really did just drag an English horn here to play eight measures.
9. The music world is small. Very, very small.
10. Play it wrong once, Jose gives you a funny look. Play it wrong twice, you get "keeled."
11. The goal for anything written by Ravel: to suck a little less at it each day.
12. You CAN, in fact, sprain your elbow.
13. There are a lot of people who will want to bring you down. Their opinion doesn't matter. Keep going.
14. Netflix makes reedmaking suck less.
15. Do not belly bump Alex around bowling balls.
16. IHOP. Kids' Menu. 2am.
17. Anything can be made dirty by adding "if you know what I mean." If you know what I mean.
18. Bringing a coffee maker to EMF was not a sign of being an obsessive coffee drinker. It was, in fact, the best decision of your life.
19. Sides of the tip.
20. Nail polish and emery boards are surprisingly good for reeds as well as nails.
21. Your teachers do listen to things other than classical music. Like hip hop.
22. It is possible to play the oboe in a "sleazy" manner.
23. Play like you have a cow next to you.
24. Sometimes the tuning A on the piano sounds more like Chopsticks...
25. You do not need to sleep.
26. "Israelian" is not a word.
27. Don't be a drag, just be a queen.
28. Do not trust the GPS.
29. Moreover, do not trust the iPhone GPS.
30. If the Greensboro Police are there, chances are you don't want to be.
31. Cold Stone Ice Cream Cupcakes.
32. Never take a hot shower for granted.
33. Or air conditioning, for that matter.
34. Unless we're talking about Sternberger, which is a refrigerator.
35. String quartets can be extremely loud.
36. Starting in the correct clef helps.
37. A groundhog is the same thing as a woodchuck,
38. Late night golf cart rides with Calvin. Turns out Guilford has some pretty sweet hills.
39. Find your inner smile.
40. Starbucks has an EMF discount. Use it.
41. Don't get locked out of your room in your bathrobe.
42. Practice efficiently, because chances are you'll be too tired to do it later.
43. I apparently have a 6th sense for when people are outside my door.
44. Above all, it's the music that matters. And it's your love of music that matters more.
I'm sure I'll think of more. Thank you everyone for an amazing summer. I love you all.
8.04.2011
7.21.2011
Good Ole Southern Escapism
What do a bunch of overworked musicians do after concerts? Consume more caffeine at the local Starbucks. What do they do on a Saturday night? Hang out with drag queens.
If there's one thing I've always known about the south, it's that to a degree you have to hide who you are. You can't say anything too controversial; that's just not accepted here. People keep talking about "southern hospitality," but in reality, the only difference between southerners and the rest of the country is that we wait until you're gone to talk about you. And when the time comes, even the most awful thing is made right as long as you tack "bless her heart" to the end.
There's really not much by way of southern gay culture. It isn't accepted. It isn't visible. You have to pay close attention or actively seek it out in order to find it. Thus, I have discovered the two types of southern gay escapism: Starbucks Lesbians and the Good Ole Gays.
I don't know what it is about lesbians and coffee shops. Every one I know of has at least one gay female employee, if not multiple ones. All over Georgia and throughout my stay in Greensboro, NC I've noticed this. And they all tend to fall into one stereotype: angsty butch lesbians. You know the type. The ones who glare at every girl who walks in, from the preppy ones to the other obvious lesbians and begrudgingly fix them overpriced coffee, all the while staring, pining away at their twig-like ponytailed coworker. You know the type.
I don't know why, but these seem to be a fixture at every Starbucks across the southeast.
On a different note, I had my first experience at a gay bar last weekend. It was filled to the brim with gay men and their hags...and then all of the EMF students. We got there just in time for the drag show. Now, most of them weren't superior performers...but there was something about the way they looked, dressed as sexy women, lip synching to pop songs. There was a certain twinkle in their eyes that said they felt that this was where they wanted to be. I looked into the crowd of men trying to tuck dollar bills into their slim corsets. They were the type of people you'd see in a rocking chair, at the fair, or going to church. It hit me then that this was a type of escapism for them. It's not like in New York or in this little music world bubble where you're free to be just as gay as you want even though you're in North Carolina. That's real life. That's real life in the south. It's like these men were incognito; Southern Gentlemen by day and their true gay selves by night. It reminded me that you can't judge a book by its cover.
And also that a lot of people do judge by appearance. And that these men have to have that exterior here. That's the place where we live. A place of forced secrecy and false appearances. But in some strange way, it gave me hope. I have a secret here, and other people have it too.
If there's one thing I've always known about the south, it's that to a degree you have to hide who you are. You can't say anything too controversial; that's just not accepted here. People keep talking about "southern hospitality," but in reality, the only difference between southerners and the rest of the country is that we wait until you're gone to talk about you. And when the time comes, even the most awful thing is made right as long as you tack "bless her heart" to the end.
There's really not much by way of southern gay culture. It isn't accepted. It isn't visible. You have to pay close attention or actively seek it out in order to find it. Thus, I have discovered the two types of southern gay escapism: Starbucks Lesbians and the Good Ole Gays.
I don't know what it is about lesbians and coffee shops. Every one I know of has at least one gay female employee, if not multiple ones. All over Georgia and throughout my stay in Greensboro, NC I've noticed this. And they all tend to fall into one stereotype: angsty butch lesbians. You know the type. The ones who glare at every girl who walks in, from the preppy ones to the other obvious lesbians and begrudgingly fix them overpriced coffee, all the while staring, pining away at their twig-like ponytailed coworker. You know the type.
I don't know why, but these seem to be a fixture at every Starbucks across the southeast.
On a different note, I had my first experience at a gay bar last weekend. It was filled to the brim with gay men and their hags...and then all of the EMF students. We got there just in time for the drag show. Now, most of them weren't superior performers...but there was something about the way they looked, dressed as sexy women, lip synching to pop songs. There was a certain twinkle in their eyes that said they felt that this was where they wanted to be. I looked into the crowd of men trying to tuck dollar bills into their slim corsets. They were the type of people you'd see in a rocking chair, at the fair, or going to church. It hit me then that this was a type of escapism for them. It's not like in New York or in this little music world bubble where you're free to be just as gay as you want even though you're in North Carolina. That's real life. That's real life in the south. It's like these men were incognito; Southern Gentlemen by day and their true gay selves by night. It reminded me that you can't judge a book by its cover.
And also that a lot of people do judge by appearance. And that these men have to have that exterior here. That's the place where we live. A place of forced secrecy and false appearances. But in some strange way, it gave me hope. I have a secret here, and other people have it too.
6.29.2011
Puzzles > Equations
I am at Eastern Music Festival. For those who don't know, it's a pretty big deal. There are eight oboes here, and I'm sitting beside people who go to Eastman and Cincinnati Conservatory. It's absolutely amazing. The orchestra is definitely better than any one I've ever been a part of...almost as good as ICSO. But it's hard to tell. But the chance to perform Barber's Second Essay for Orchestra and Prokofiev 5 within a week of each other is pretty fantastic.
After a morning of intense frustration, I've had two major breakthroughs in my playing today. The first is how I think about the oboe and my air; that rather than using the intensity of my embouchure to control the sound, I should use the intensity of my air to fill the reed and the sound. Second, I need to trust myself more. I know I have problems with rhythm, and I've let that get in the way of playing the music. Instead of playing where I know is right, I think too much and count too much. Everything gets bogged down and I end up coming in late or early. Music isn't about math, it's about sound and interlocking parts. So if I think of it as a puzzle rather than an equation, it becomes more playable.
It's amazing what one lesson can do. It's amazing that someone different can say something, the same thing you've heard a thousand times before, and suddenly it makes sense.
It's kind of a liberating feeling.
After a morning of intense frustration, I've had two major breakthroughs in my playing today. The first is how I think about the oboe and my air; that rather than using the intensity of my embouchure to control the sound, I should use the intensity of my air to fill the reed and the sound. Second, I need to trust myself more. I know I have problems with rhythm, and I've let that get in the way of playing the music. Instead of playing where I know is right, I think too much and count too much. Everything gets bogged down and I end up coming in late or early. Music isn't about math, it's about sound and interlocking parts. So if I think of it as a puzzle rather than an equation, it becomes more playable.
It's amazing what one lesson can do. It's amazing that someone different can say something, the same thing you've heard a thousand times before, and suddenly it makes sense.
It's kind of a liberating feeling.
6.10.2011
OH!
One more thing: every time I type the exclamation "OH!", all I can think about is a very excited hydroxide molecule.
Wow. I've been terrible about blogging. I should probably change this, now that I have the time to a) breathe, b) sleep, and c) do anything other than be in a constant state of running toward or away from the oboe.
Summer is here. Unsurprisingly, Macon is still about as boring as ever. We're getting a new gay bar called Kaos. It's drenched in rainbow insignia and also conveniently placed next to a sketchy massage parlour (take the hint). Customer overlap? All in all it seems pretty shady. Macon is just not the place to be gay, or at least be out about it.
It's infernally hot. It's already reached 102 in the beginning of June when those temperatures are usually reserved to mid/late July and the always sweltering August. Between the heat and the humidity, walking outside is somewhat similar to being slapped in the face with a sauna.
On a positive note, after a brief scare due to family history and five hours at Middle Georgia Diagnostics getting stuck every hour, I have concluded that I do not have diabetes and am in fact hypoglycemic. The result? Eat more. Buh. Well, at least I'm being advised on how to keep my body healthy.
OH! Also on a positive note, I was accepted to Eastern Music Festival in April. I'll be leaving for five weeks spanning the end of June and the entire month of July. I'm incredibly excited about getting to play some amazing music, especially because my orchestral experience is limited. I'm looking forward to the people and to getting out of Georgia.
After a month of practicing two hours a day and only having made ONE reed, I finally broke down and bought a shaper handle, something I've been meaning to do for two years now. This means I'll actually have to start being productive...disappointing. Though I do find it amazing that when you actually listen to what your teachers tell you, you advance really fast. Who would have thought? Listening? To your teachers? I guess it just takes a certain amount of time and musical maturity for it to sink in, but when it does, it's both amazing and terrible: amazing because you've reached a new height in your playing, terrible because now everything sounds inadequate. But that's the life of a musician. Always striving for more.
So that's a life update for the wild wild web. Pixels, I'm glad you hear me.
Summer is here. Unsurprisingly, Macon is still about as boring as ever. We're getting a new gay bar called Kaos. It's drenched in rainbow insignia and also conveniently placed next to a sketchy massage parlour (take the hint). Customer overlap? All in all it seems pretty shady. Macon is just not the place to be gay, or at least be out about it.
It's infernally hot. It's already reached 102 in the beginning of June when those temperatures are usually reserved to mid/late July and the always sweltering August. Between the heat and the humidity, walking outside is somewhat similar to being slapped in the face with a sauna.
On a positive note, after a brief scare due to family history and five hours at Middle Georgia Diagnostics getting stuck every hour, I have concluded that I do not have diabetes and am in fact hypoglycemic. The result? Eat more. Buh. Well, at least I'm being advised on how to keep my body healthy.
OH! Also on a positive note, I was accepted to Eastern Music Festival in April. I'll be leaving for five weeks spanning the end of June and the entire month of July. I'm incredibly excited about getting to play some amazing music, especially because my orchestral experience is limited. I'm looking forward to the people and to getting out of Georgia.
After a month of practicing two hours a day and only having made ONE reed, I finally broke down and bought a shaper handle, something I've been meaning to do for two years now. This means I'll actually have to start being productive...disappointing. Though I do find it amazing that when you actually listen to what your teachers tell you, you advance really fast. Who would have thought? Listening? To your teachers? I guess it just takes a certain amount of time and musical maturity for it to sink in, but when it does, it's both amazing and terrible: amazing because you've reached a new height in your playing, terrible because now everything sounds inadequate. But that's the life of a musician. Always striving for more.
So that's a life update for the wild wild web. Pixels, I'm glad you hear me.
5.11.2011
Safe Space
One of my friends facebooked me a link to the GLSEN safe space kit for schools. We have something similar here at Ithaca, but it's very different because a) the school has its own LGBT center, and b) half of the school is gay. She meant it as a joke, that we should send our conservative schools the safe space kit and see what they do with it. It amuses me, the thought of the havoc it would cause, an anonymous person mailing them a kit on how to educate the masses about gay/straight equality. And the thought of the uproar if any teacher decided to display the safe space sign? I shudder to think.
But the laughter comes from a darker place, a bitter place. I wish I could send these kits to my old high school. I wish I could say I hadn't been afraid every day. I wish I could say that there was room in that school for an improvement of mentality, of acceptance. But the sad thing is that I don't think there is. Between my own experiences and those of one of my close friends, I realise that while I never experienced any direct violence (just threats and one a bit too coincidental incident of physical harassment), the fear I felt every day did more to hurt me than any other person could.
I'm not blaming anyone for "making me this way." It happened. It's much better now. But what bothers me is that there isn't room for improvement at that school. Because those who are willing to open their minds aren't speaking loudly enough, and those who do speak get shot down.
I wish I could go back in time and stand up and scream. I wish I could have changed things. But the good that has come out of this is that my post-high school experience changed me.
To those of you in the situation I was in, keep fighting. And if you can gather your courage and your voice, scream.
But the laughter comes from a darker place, a bitter place. I wish I could send these kits to my old high school. I wish I could say I hadn't been afraid every day. I wish I could say that there was room in that school for an improvement of mentality, of acceptance. But the sad thing is that I don't think there is. Between my own experiences and those of one of my close friends, I realise that while I never experienced any direct violence (just threats and one a bit too coincidental incident of physical harassment), the fear I felt every day did more to hurt me than any other person could.
I'm not blaming anyone for "making me this way." It happened. It's much better now. But what bothers me is that there isn't room for improvement at that school. Because those who are willing to open their minds aren't speaking loudly enough, and those who do speak get shot down.
I wish I could go back in time and stand up and scream. I wish I could have changed things. But the good that has come out of this is that my post-high school experience changed me.
To those of you in the situation I was in, keep fighting. And if you can gather your courage and your voice, scream.
4.14.2011
Mind-Boggled
I am absolutely positive this post will offend someone out there. Know that these opinions are my own, and though I may not agree with yours, I respect your right to have it. All arguments on this topic are valid, so long as they are well thought-out and that all beliefs have been examined.
What I really don't understand is why religion has to be a competition.
I rarely discuss what I believe, beyond "I'm Jewish" or making cultural jokes about my people. Part of this reason is because it's complicated--but isn't everything nowadays? The other part of it is that I believe that religion is a personal thing, your singular connection with whatever you may or may not view as G-d. Religion, in my opinion, is my own. I came to my beliefs on G-d through a lot of thought and turmoil. I've settled into what I believe, and what I believe is this:
In the traditional sense, I am Jewish. I believe that there is one G-d. I view the books of the Torah as parables for the way we are supposed to live. I find beauty in the stories told and psalms read. But I'll be the first to admit that my going to a religious service is mostly to participate in the traditions rather than to have someone show me how to connect with G-d.
I've always liked to do things my own way, and I am in no way discrediting those who find religion together in groups. I personally feel that my relationship with G-d is very personal, and I find it best in those quiet moments in the middle of the night when you lie awake, thanking G-d. The traditions I uphold and the songs I sing and the holidays I celebrate are little reminders of my devotion to my religion, but not something I obsess over. I have always believed more in the spirit of the law than the letter of the law. And should I be judged, I believe the judge will know that I have good intentions.
What I don't believe is that any one religion is "right." There should be no competition to convert a person from one religion to another, just like major-league athletes can get stolen from a team and have to change allegiance to another one. Religion is not a competition; it's all of us groping for an answer. And who cares if the girl in front of you solves the problem with calculus and you solved it with algebra? The answer's still 3. I believe that religious groups are people finding different manifestations of the same overall power, whether S/He is divided into a trinity or multiple different characters. My personal belief is that any polytheistic view is a way of showing that personalities are multifaceted, that G-d has sides that are like us, but pull them all together and you get everything. Every human encompasses a little bit of everything, good and bad. And thus, I am frustrated by the view that Jesus is the only way, or that Judaism is the one "right" way to worship.
I believe that G-d is celestial, powerful, and a creator. But I believe that religion itself is of man's creation. Just like different people have different learning styles, one person may not understand G-d in the same way as another person can explain it.
And to all the atheists/agnostics: though I personally am religious, I hold no grudge. Maybe logic and math and science are your version of what I interpret as a deity. The only thing that I'm sure of is that there's something out there we're all trying to explain, and that we're all taking different approaches. Whatever works best for the individual is what they should pursue, and that's why I believe religion is such a personal thing.
What I really don't understand is why religion has to be a competition.
I rarely discuss what I believe, beyond "I'm Jewish" or making cultural jokes about my people. Part of this reason is because it's complicated--but isn't everything nowadays? The other part of it is that I believe that religion is a personal thing, your singular connection with whatever you may or may not view as G-d. Religion, in my opinion, is my own. I came to my beliefs on G-d through a lot of thought and turmoil. I've settled into what I believe, and what I believe is this:
In the traditional sense, I am Jewish. I believe that there is one G-d. I view the books of the Torah as parables for the way we are supposed to live. I find beauty in the stories told and psalms read. But I'll be the first to admit that my going to a religious service is mostly to participate in the traditions rather than to have someone show me how to connect with G-d.
I've always liked to do things my own way, and I am in no way discrediting those who find religion together in groups. I personally feel that my relationship with G-d is very personal, and I find it best in those quiet moments in the middle of the night when you lie awake, thanking G-d. The traditions I uphold and the songs I sing and the holidays I celebrate are little reminders of my devotion to my religion, but not something I obsess over. I have always believed more in the spirit of the law than the letter of the law. And should I be judged, I believe the judge will know that I have good intentions.
What I don't believe is that any one religion is "right." There should be no competition to convert a person from one religion to another, just like major-league athletes can get stolen from a team and have to change allegiance to another one. Religion is not a competition; it's all of us groping for an answer. And who cares if the girl in front of you solves the problem with calculus and you solved it with algebra? The answer's still 3. I believe that religious groups are people finding different manifestations of the same overall power, whether S/He is divided into a trinity or multiple different characters. My personal belief is that any polytheistic view is a way of showing that personalities are multifaceted, that G-d has sides that are like us, but pull them all together and you get everything. Every human encompasses a little bit of everything, good and bad. And thus, I am frustrated by the view that Jesus is the only way, or that Judaism is the one "right" way to worship.
I believe that G-d is celestial, powerful, and a creator. But I believe that religion itself is of man's creation. Just like different people have different learning styles, one person may not understand G-d in the same way as another person can explain it.
And to all the atheists/agnostics: though I personally am religious, I hold no grudge. Maybe logic and math and science are your version of what I interpret as a deity. The only thing that I'm sure of is that there's something out there we're all trying to explain, and that we're all taking different approaches. Whatever works best for the individual is what they should pursue, and that's why I believe religion is such a personal thing.
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