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.
1.21.2011
Still living in middle Georgia, thus, still deranged.
Current annoyances:
Annoyance 1. Grammatically Ambiguous Situations.
Most people know that I am a grammar snob.
That might be an understatement.
I like having correct grammar. I like having correct punctuation. I text with proper grammar and punctuation. If the new keyboard protector on my laptop weren't out to get my typing fingers, my instant message punctuation would be nearly immaculate. But what I can't stand is the following situation:
"Did you mean to ask me what colour my penguin is or how much duller that linguist is?"
Now. When I respond to this, stating the question I meant alone, how do I punctuate it? "What colour my penguin is." is a question, but punctuated with a period (incorrect punctuation in this sentence is for both illustration and irony). But if you state "What colour my penguin is?" you accomplish two things: one, you sound unsure of an answer you're sure about, and two, you sound like an illiterate moron because AGH SUBJECT VERB AGREEMENT (my biggest pet peeve, and surprisingly, the one I find most often in published speeches or advertisements, comma errors aside). Clearly, this is a grammatically ambiguous situation...which punctuation mark is correct? It's up for debate.
(What is not up for debate is that punctuation does fall under the category of grammar, so YES this IS a grammatically ambiguous situation.)
Okay. I'll stop being pedantic.
Annoyance 2. Cell Phone Etiquette.
Oh come on, people. The cell phone has been around since AT LEAST 1999. By now, I think we should have all figured out what is and isn't okay to do on a cell phone in public. For instance, if you talk loudly, avoid answering non-vital calls in crowded places. Or at all. And if you're anywhere with other people, like a coffee shop or museum, do not just sit on your cell phone and blabber loudly, especially about work-related things. Especially if you have a thick Southern drawl. Nobody around you cares, and those of us reading would really enjoy being able to tend to our books in the peace of mid-level conversation and elevator music white noise.
I feel like the world in general is losing its sense of decency. We are too caught up in our own lives that we can't have a face-to-face conversation with someone without texting another person that is not in the room, have to get to that red light just a little bit faster than everyone else, and forget that the customer service people and janitors and telemarketers are people too. All the old-timers will probably scoff at me for saying this, but whatever happened to friendliness? To decency? When did our own lives become so much more important than everyone else's that we forget basic courtesy?
And, while we're on the subject of courtesy and cell phones, when did a text message become more important than interstate driving? For crying out loud, I can't even text and WALK at the same time, much less text and DRIVE. Seriously. Put down the phone. The gossip can wait.
Don't even get me started on silencing all cell phones, pagers, and BABIES before a musical performance...
Annoyance 3. Having to wait for a blocked piece to dry, sewing seems, having to make two sleeves...
SERIOUSLY I WANT TO FINISH THIS SWEATER ALREADY. IT IS SO PRETTY BUT ARGHHHH I WANT TO FINISH!!!
However, there are good things in this world.
I met a friend this past weekend. I don't know whether to call her an old friend or a new friend; I have known her through a mutual friend and the internet for over a year and a half, but I just met her in person. She is a pretty incredible individual. She's been through a lot in her life and, most admirable of all, has stood up for what she believes against scorn and disownment. She's a beautiful person and I am very, very proud to know her. If I take away one thing from her, it is her tireless ability to stand up for herself. She's currently going through a rough time, but I've never seen anyone with a stronger will or a deeper desire to live her life on her own terms and to be defined by no one but herself.
Also, in the wake of me finishing a startling amount of hats in one week and teaching two people (aforementioned friend and my father) to knit, I started a knitting blog, seeing as this one was getting overrun with pictures of my current projects. I also wanted to be able to sufficiently get updates from/stalk my friends with Tumblr accounts. Thus, I am becoming bibloggal. The address to my knitting blog is as follows: http://knit2blog.tumblr.com/ . Happy reading!
Annoyance 1. Grammatically Ambiguous Situations.
Most people know that I am a grammar snob.
That might be an understatement.
I like having correct grammar. I like having correct punctuation. I text with proper grammar and punctuation. If the new keyboard protector on my laptop weren't out to get my typing fingers, my instant message punctuation would be nearly immaculate. But what I can't stand is the following situation:
"Did you mean to ask me what colour my penguin is or how much duller that linguist is?"
Now. When I respond to this, stating the question I meant alone, how do I punctuate it? "What colour my penguin is." is a question, but punctuated with a period (incorrect punctuation in this sentence is for both illustration and irony). But if you state "What colour my penguin is?" you accomplish two things: one, you sound unsure of an answer you're sure about, and two, you sound like an illiterate moron because AGH SUBJECT VERB AGREEMENT (my biggest pet peeve, and surprisingly, the one I find most often in published speeches or advertisements, comma errors aside). Clearly, this is a grammatically ambiguous situation...which punctuation mark is correct? It's up for debate.
(What is not up for debate is that punctuation does fall under the category of grammar, so YES this IS a grammatically ambiguous situation.)
Okay. I'll stop being pedantic.
Annoyance 2. Cell Phone Etiquette.
Oh come on, people. The cell phone has been around since AT LEAST 1999. By now, I think we should have all figured out what is and isn't okay to do on a cell phone in public. For instance, if you talk loudly, avoid answering non-vital calls in crowded places. Or at all. And if you're anywhere with other people, like a coffee shop or museum, do not just sit on your cell phone and blabber loudly, especially about work-related things. Especially if you have a thick Southern drawl. Nobody around you cares, and those of us reading would really enjoy being able to tend to our books in the peace of mid-level conversation and elevator music white noise.
I feel like the world in general is losing its sense of decency. We are too caught up in our own lives that we can't have a face-to-face conversation with someone without texting another person that is not in the room, have to get to that red light just a little bit faster than everyone else, and forget that the customer service people and janitors and telemarketers are people too. All the old-timers will probably scoff at me for saying this, but whatever happened to friendliness? To decency? When did our own lives become so much more important than everyone else's that we forget basic courtesy?
And, while we're on the subject of courtesy and cell phones, when did a text message become more important than interstate driving? For crying out loud, I can't even text and WALK at the same time, much less text and DRIVE. Seriously. Put down the phone. The gossip can wait.
Don't even get me started on silencing all cell phones, pagers, and BABIES before a musical performance...
Annoyance 3. Having to wait for a blocked piece to dry, sewing seems, having to make two sleeves...
SERIOUSLY I WANT TO FINISH THIS SWEATER ALREADY. IT IS SO PRETTY BUT ARGHHHH I WANT TO FINISH!!!
However, there are good things in this world.
I met a friend this past weekend. I don't know whether to call her an old friend or a new friend; I have known her through a mutual friend and the internet for over a year and a half, but I just met her in person. She is a pretty incredible individual. She's been through a lot in her life and, most admirable of all, has stood up for what she believes against scorn and disownment. She's a beautiful person and I am very, very proud to know her. If I take away one thing from her, it is her tireless ability to stand up for herself. She's currently going through a rough time, but I've never seen anyone with a stronger will or a deeper desire to live her life on her own terms and to be defined by no one but herself.
Also, in the wake of me finishing a startling amount of hats in one week and teaching two people (aforementioned friend and my father) to knit, I started a knitting blog, seeing as this one was getting overrun with pictures of my current projects. I also wanted to be able to sufficiently get updates from/stalk my friends with Tumblr accounts. Thus, I am becoming bibloggal. The address to my knitting blog is as follows: http://knit2blog.tumblr.com/ . Happy reading!
1.07.2011
I have needles and I'm not afraid to use them.
More like "I have lace patterns and I am FEARLESS."
So I started knitting lace. My first pattern actually turned out really well! I found it in the free section of KnitPicks and really liked it...so I used it as my "learn to knit lace" knitting pattern...not knowing that I definitely could have picked something easier. All things considered, I like how it turned out.
So then I started knitting another lace hat. I am visiting my birthmother on Saturday in Madison, so I figured I'd give her a little belated Christmas present. That is, if I can get it off the needles in time.
I hate the glare in that photo. Sorry.
Finally, my father is receiving his first hand-knitted present: a belated Hanukkah scarf. He said a scarf was pretty much the only knitted garment he'd wear. And we all know how boring scares can be. So I decided to make a textured one. This is a nice variegated yarn with a basketweave texture. Enjoy:
So this is my progress on knitting. And pretty much all I've been doing at home...oh wait. If you can't find me, it's because I'm buried under a pile of excerpts. I emerged to play Final Fantasy today...but I really do need to get back to the knitting...
So I started knitting lace. My first pattern actually turned out really well! I found it in the free section of KnitPicks and really liked it...so I used it as my "learn to knit lace" knitting pattern...not knowing that I definitely could have picked something easier. All things considered, I like how it turned out.
So then I started knitting another lace hat. I am visiting my birthmother on Saturday in Madison, so I figured I'd give her a little belated Christmas present. That is, if I can get it off the needles in time.
I hate the glare in that photo. Sorry.
Finally, my father is receiving his first hand-knitted present: a belated Hanukkah scarf. He said a scarf was pretty much the only knitted garment he'd wear. And we all know how boring scares can be. So I decided to make a textured one. This is a nice variegated yarn with a basketweave texture. Enjoy:
So this is my progress on knitting. And pretty much all I've been doing at home...oh wait. If you can't find me, it's because I'm buried under a pile of excerpts. I emerged to play Final Fantasy today...but I really do need to get back to the knitting...
1.01.2011
Chocolate Mousse, French Fries, and Doomed Relationships
We all seem to want the things that are bad for us. I, for one, am in a constant state of wanting chocolate mousse. This is bad for me for many reasons, not the least of which being the fact that I am lactose intolerant and that no amount of lactaid can cure the inevitable stomach ache, etc that is my body's way of telling me "man, that was DUMB." But I digress from gross bodily functions.
I don't know what it is about the things that are terrible for us; maybe it's that they're "forbidden" in a way, and that giving in and letting ourselves supersize it or take the extra bite feels sinful. And that perceived sin only makes those golden potatoes more delicious, despite the fact that our arteries are screaming for mercy. I even get that way with procrastination; on the days when I have more to do than I care to recall, taking that hour to just do absolutely nothing feels better than anything in the world. It's like sitting back to enjoy an entree of french fries and then eating a large bowl of chocolate mousse afterward. It's absolutely divine in how terrible it is.
I'm starting to find that people get this way with other people. And I'm especially guilty.
Right now, I'm in a conundrum. I have mixed and conflicting emotions about several people, but the strongest emotions are for someone I know is doomed to hurt me. But then there's that optimistic side of me that says "but maybe this time will be different. Maybe you'll change her." But I don't believe in changing people--partially because people don't change. And you can't go into something wanting to perfect the other person.
So here I am at the precipice, tapping my toes on the edge and putting the tiniest bit of weight on it, trying to test it out. One would think that I'd look at the situation and think better of it and avoid the inevitable pain. But there's a huge part of me that knows that if I don't jump, I'll always wonder where I'd have landed. Maybe the water below isn't all that murky--or maybe it isn't water at all.
They say, whoever "they" are, that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over, expecting different results. But unlike the doomed battle of Rachel vs. the Chocolate Mousse, I feel like this isn't a sure situation. It's not destined to fail quite yet, and if I'm going to do something, I'm not going to do it half-assed.
So here's to another year of going out with a bang or going up in flames. I raise my glass to finding out which outcome.
I don't know what it is about the things that are terrible for us; maybe it's that they're "forbidden" in a way, and that giving in and letting ourselves supersize it or take the extra bite feels sinful. And that perceived sin only makes those golden potatoes more delicious, despite the fact that our arteries are screaming for mercy. I even get that way with procrastination; on the days when I have more to do than I care to recall, taking that hour to just do absolutely nothing feels better than anything in the world. It's like sitting back to enjoy an entree of french fries and then eating a large bowl of chocolate mousse afterward. It's absolutely divine in how terrible it is.
I'm starting to find that people get this way with other people. And I'm especially guilty.
Right now, I'm in a conundrum. I have mixed and conflicting emotions about several people, but the strongest emotions are for someone I know is doomed to hurt me. But then there's that optimistic side of me that says "but maybe this time will be different. Maybe you'll change her." But I don't believe in changing people--partially because people don't change. And you can't go into something wanting to perfect the other person.
So here I am at the precipice, tapping my toes on the edge and putting the tiniest bit of weight on it, trying to test it out. One would think that I'd look at the situation and think better of it and avoid the inevitable pain. But there's a huge part of me that knows that if I don't jump, I'll always wonder where I'd have landed. Maybe the water below isn't all that murky--or maybe it isn't water at all.
They say, whoever "they" are, that the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over, expecting different results. But unlike the doomed battle of Rachel vs. the Chocolate Mousse, I feel like this isn't a sure situation. It's not destined to fail quite yet, and if I'm going to do something, I'm not going to do it half-assed.
So here's to another year of going out with a bang or going up in flames. I raise my glass to finding out which outcome.
12.19.2010
Some things never change.
I am still bad at updating blogs. Hence, the title.
Home again. I don't quite detest Georgia yet, but I know it's coming. Right now, I'm going to ride the wave of awesome that is being able to sleep until noon, not having ANYTHING to do (except practice), and being able to see my friends at odd hours.
My parents bought a Wii. Since my gym will be closed off and on until the new year, I am going to spend the rest of the three weeks on my membership during the three weeks I am here in January. Until then, I am having my ass kicked by the aforementioned video game console. Conclusions from my first night of using it: I cannot hula hoop, and sometimes I punch too fast for the controller to register that I am beating the crap out of this guy in Wii Boxing. I am also terrible at Wii Tennis. And waking up the first day after using your new video game console? IT HURTS.
In other exciting news, it's time for a new game of "you know you're a nerd WHEN..." I just ordered a medium Landwell as my last Hanukkah present, and I'm super-excited. As in, I really shouldn't be this excited over a knife. But for some reason I think it's really going to help my reedmaking abilities. At least...I hope so. I'm more excited for that than I am for using my Barnes and Noble gift card...and I almost pulled an excited puppy and peed on the carpet for that one.
Okay. Yeah. I just out-nerded myself. I suppose I could talk about my knitting too, just to round this post out with nerdiness.
Or not. For those of you who did not know, I went pescetarian about three months ago. To clarify, this means I eat fish, eggs, dairy, and veggies/grains. A lot of people ask me why I did it, and honestly I don't know. I've always wanted to become a vegetarian (especially after that one talk we had in Sunday School about butchering...Kosher vs. non-Kosher...ew). But honestly, I feel so much healthier now. I eat a lot of beans, a lot of soy (SO MUCH SOY) and a lot of tofu (counts as both of the above, I know). I tried Tofurkey, and it's actually pretty good. I looked at a lot of the benefits of being a vegetarian, and it's MUCH better for the environment (reduces the grain needed to feed livestock...and some of the methane gas from the cow farts). And it's actually not been terribly difficult.
Okay, that's enough rambling about my life.
Home again. I don't quite detest Georgia yet, but I know it's coming. Right now, I'm going to ride the wave of awesome that is being able to sleep until noon, not having ANYTHING to do (except practice), and being able to see my friends at odd hours.
My parents bought a Wii. Since my gym will be closed off and on until the new year, I am going to spend the rest of the three weeks on my membership during the three weeks I am here in January. Until then, I am having my ass kicked by the aforementioned video game console. Conclusions from my first night of using it: I cannot hula hoop, and sometimes I punch too fast for the controller to register that I am beating the crap out of this guy in Wii Boxing. I am also terrible at Wii Tennis. And waking up the first day after using your new video game console? IT HURTS.
In other exciting news, it's time for a new game of "you know you're a nerd WHEN..." I just ordered a medium Landwell as my last Hanukkah present, and I'm super-excited. As in, I really shouldn't be this excited over a knife. But for some reason I think it's really going to help my reedmaking abilities. At least...I hope so. I'm more excited for that than I am for using my Barnes and Noble gift card...and I almost pulled an excited puppy and peed on the carpet for that one.
Okay. Yeah. I just out-nerded myself. I suppose I could talk about my knitting too, just to round this post out with nerdiness.
Or not. For those of you who did not know, I went pescetarian about three months ago. To clarify, this means I eat fish, eggs, dairy, and veggies/grains. A lot of people ask me why I did it, and honestly I don't know. I've always wanted to become a vegetarian (especially after that one talk we had in Sunday School about butchering...Kosher vs. non-Kosher...ew). But honestly, I feel so much healthier now. I eat a lot of beans, a lot of soy (SO MUCH SOY) and a lot of tofu (counts as both of the above, I know). I tried Tofurkey, and it's actually pretty good. I looked at a lot of the benefits of being a vegetarian, and it's MUCH better for the environment (reduces the grain needed to feed livestock...and some of the methane gas from the cow farts). And it's actually not been terribly difficult.
Okay, that's enough rambling about my life.
11.27.2010
Home!
After the past week, I really needed a break. Lucky for me, Thanksgiving break was conveniently timed.
I'm starting to have friends outside of the music school. Shocking, I know. But it seems that with every time a friend wants to hang out, the homework or performance or work has reached an unbearable level. It's not like I'd willingly give up ANY of my outside activities; Mu Phi Epsilon has been fantastic for me, computer science is the most fun version of frustration I can think of, and I love my job. I just keep offering to do things that will further my actual career...like play for the Opera Workshop or design websites. And then that whole "class" thing gets in the way. I'm starting to realise that if I didn't have class, maybe I'd be able to get all of my classwork done.
But anyway. In happier news, now I'm home! Home means family, dogs, PRACTICE TIME!, knitting, and just all-out chill time. I'm so much less stressed about juries and the third movement of the Vaughan Williams now. I feel like I'm connecting with music more. It's amazing what time off will do.
Time off also gives you time to pursue other things, like my all-time favourite I'm-frustrated-with-debugging-this-program-to-the-point-of-wanting-to-punch-babies hobby: knitting. This past day I have knit a row or two every time I couldn't figure out what was wrong with my computer science program. And surprisingly, the practiced hand movements and brain time-off really, really helps.
Because I live where it is cold, I am knitting warm things, like this hat:
And, because I have the problem of cold hands but also happen to need my fingertips to play the oboe...fingerless gloves. Fingers just get in the way...(what, nobody else has this problem?)
And I'm starting on another hat in the same pattern, but using the variegated yarn all the way up.
It's in progress.
You can tell how frustrated I've gotten with my computer by how much knitting I've done. Something to know: computer science frustration generates knitted items. Oboe frustration generates baked goods.
I really am turning into a matronly old lady.
I'm starting to have friends outside of the music school. Shocking, I know. But it seems that with every time a friend wants to hang out, the homework or performance or work has reached an unbearable level. It's not like I'd willingly give up ANY of my outside activities; Mu Phi Epsilon has been fantastic for me, computer science is the most fun version of frustration I can think of, and I love my job. I just keep offering to do things that will further my actual career...like play for the Opera Workshop or design websites. And then that whole "class" thing gets in the way. I'm starting to realise that if I didn't have class, maybe I'd be able to get all of my classwork done.
But anyway. In happier news, now I'm home! Home means family, dogs, PRACTICE TIME!, knitting, and just all-out chill time. I'm so much less stressed about juries and the third movement of the Vaughan Williams now. I feel like I'm connecting with music more. It's amazing what time off will do.
Time off also gives you time to pursue other things, like my all-time favourite I'm-frustrated-with-debugging-this-program-to-the-point-of-wanting-to-punch-babies hobby: knitting. This past day I have knit a row or two every time I couldn't figure out what was wrong with my computer science program. And surprisingly, the practiced hand movements and brain time-off really, really helps.
Because I live where it is cold, I am knitting warm things, like this hat:
And, because I have the problem of cold hands but also happen to need my fingertips to play the oboe...fingerless gloves. Fingers just get in the way...(what, nobody else has this problem?)
And I'm starting on another hat in the same pattern, but using the variegated yarn all the way up.
It's in progress.
You can tell how frustrated I've gotten with my computer by how much knitting I've done. Something to know: computer science frustration generates knitted items. Oboe frustration generates baked goods.
I really am turning into a matronly old lady.
11.07.2010
Report for the past week:
Smallest number of hours slept: 5.5
Greatest number of hours slept: 9
Number of reeds made: 5
Number of reeds cracked: 3
Number of hours practiced: not nearly as many as I would have liked.
Number of breakdowns had: 0
Number of bitches cut: 0
Number of programs owned: 1
Number of careless mistakes with programming: 349587
Number of parents seen: 3000
Number of parents that were my own: 2
Amount of satisfaction gained from that: infinite.
Number of hours spent in rehearsal: 6
Number of other jobs taken on: 2
Number of hours spent at work: 5
Number of hours spent doing homework: too many.
Overall, successful. I was going to write a post earlier this week about how I drink coffee socially. You know, some people go for alcohol, some for cigarettes, I go for coffee. It's a very tasty vehicle for caffeine. Unfortunately, this is a double-edged sword; it also contains caffeine when you don't need it. Most people would tell me "just drink decaf." I don't know why, but this seems blasphemous to me. It just isn't right. It's not like I can taste caffeine or anything (at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if I could, though), but still. Coffee should be an untainted steaming liquid (unless iced, in which soy milk and sugar are acceptable).
I just capitalised Coffee, as if it were a deity. There you have it, I guess.
So. This week I actually went to bed before midnight for the first time since July. Even then, that was a special situation (no sleep the night before, flying home from Philadelphia from SIMF. I slept for 17 consecutive hours, going to bed at 6pm). I'm a bit proud of myself. I think it's what helped me not become sick with the Whalen Plague.
I am finally listening to my body. I am finally discovering that I have limits and that there is only so much I, as one person, can do within a day. I am also realising that I have enough major for two people.
I won a major victory this week as well. My college has decided to stop paying for outside hosting for organisations, favouring something called Web Profile Manager instead. As a computer science minor and a web programmer...this is frustrating. But I decided to give it a shot. The verdict: wow, that's ugly. I'd like to be able to add more than one picture on the home page...and any picture at all on subpages. Also...what is with this horribly ugly background? Yeah, I could change it with CSS, but then I'd want to change the layout. Oh come on, I can't even change the text size?!? And I can't change the XHTML...so WHERE am I supposed to put my < div > tags? You mean I can't lay this out in a logical format? And you mean I'm supposed to put up photo galleries one picture at a time? And that putting up six photos takes an hour? And that--and here's the kicker--we get 15MB of space?
You've got to be kidding me, right?
Nah, they were serious. I mean, WPM is great for people who want to do a simple layout and don't know web design. But if you know more than two things about computers OR good design, it's infuriating. So the webmasters of the other two music fraternities and I took matters into our own hands.
Soon, I will have hosting for my first REAL web design job. *squee!*
More awesomeness: I got chosen to play for the spring musical next semester! As much work as it will be, with 7-midnight dress rehearsals, it's going to be a BLAST. I love playing in pit orchestras. I love musical theatre. And that I get to play it? HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!
Next semester, I am going to be whelmed. Very, very whelmed.
Happy, but whelmed.
This is why coffee exists.
Greatest number of hours slept: 9
Number of reeds made: 5
Number of reeds cracked: 3
Number of hours practiced: not nearly as many as I would have liked.
Number of breakdowns had: 0
Number of bitches cut: 0
Number of programs owned: 1
Number of careless mistakes with programming: 349587
Number of parents seen: 3000
Number of parents that were my own: 2
Amount of satisfaction gained from that: infinite.
Number of hours spent in rehearsal: 6
Number of other jobs taken on: 2
Number of hours spent at work: 5
Number of hours spent doing homework: too many.
Overall, successful. I was going to write a post earlier this week about how I drink coffee socially. You know, some people go for alcohol, some for cigarettes, I go for coffee. It's a very tasty vehicle for caffeine. Unfortunately, this is a double-edged sword; it also contains caffeine when you don't need it. Most people would tell me "just drink decaf." I don't know why, but this seems blasphemous to me. It just isn't right. It's not like I can taste caffeine or anything (at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if I could, though), but still. Coffee should be an untainted steaming liquid (unless iced, in which soy milk and sugar are acceptable).
I just capitalised Coffee, as if it were a deity. There you have it, I guess.
So. This week I actually went to bed before midnight for the first time since July. Even then, that was a special situation (no sleep the night before, flying home from Philadelphia from SIMF. I slept for 17 consecutive hours, going to bed at 6pm). I'm a bit proud of myself. I think it's what helped me not become sick with the Whalen Plague.
I am finally listening to my body. I am finally discovering that I have limits and that there is only so much I, as one person, can do within a day. I am also realising that I have enough major for two people.
I won a major victory this week as well. My college has decided to stop paying for outside hosting for organisations, favouring something called Web Profile Manager instead. As a computer science minor and a web programmer...this is frustrating. But I decided to give it a shot. The verdict: wow, that's ugly. I'd like to be able to add more than one picture on the home page...and any picture at all on subpages. Also...what is with this horribly ugly background? Yeah, I could change it with CSS, but then I'd want to change the layout. Oh come on, I can't even change the text size?!? And I can't change the XHTML...so WHERE am I supposed to put my < div > tags? You mean I can't lay this out in a logical format? And you mean I'm supposed to put up photo galleries one picture at a time? And that putting up six photos takes an hour? And that--and here's the kicker--we get 15MB of space?
You've got to be kidding me, right?
Nah, they were serious. I mean, WPM is great for people who want to do a simple layout and don't know web design. But if you know more than two things about computers OR good design, it's infuriating. So the webmasters of the other two music fraternities and I took matters into our own hands.
Soon, I will have hosting for my first REAL web design job. *squee!*
More awesomeness: I got chosen to play for the spring musical next semester! As much work as it will be, with 7-midnight dress rehearsals, it's going to be a BLAST. I love playing in pit orchestras. I love musical theatre. And that I get to play it? HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!
Next semester, I am going to be whelmed. Very, very whelmed.
Happy, but whelmed.
This is why coffee exists.
10.28.2010
Baking, Blogging, and BPracticing (okay, that didn't work)
Funny thing is, we call our conductor BP. So...kind of worked as a pun?
I've been doing these things a lot. You know, the things I do when I'm stressed. It's gotten to the point where every Friday night, Erin and I get together and bake something. It's our way of releasing the stress of the week. And it's tasty. We are actually considering starting a YouTube cooking show about how hilariously terrible we are about following the actual instructions, mostly because we're in college, have one measuring cup, one mixing bowl, a spoon, and two cookie sheets.
For example: "cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer" means me making buzzing noises and poking Erin while she mixes the ingredients with a spoon very energetically. Yeah.
I've been so scattered lately. I'm realising that I spend 12+ hours in the music building per day, and that's a conservative estimate. I am realising that every time I am in my room, I am either doing work or sleeping. I don't take breaks because there simply isn't time. I need at least eight more hours in the day to get everything I have to do within a day done and sleep.
Oh, if only we didn't have to sleep.
This week has been insane; one thing after another. Playing Tombeau in rep class, lesson, theory homework, sight-singing transcription, giant computer science program due Friday...
Funny thing is, I haven't been procrastinating. I feel like I'm so scattered because I've been working on all of these things since the weekend. I try to pick them back up and end up having no idea where I left off. I need another hard drive for my brain. And another cup of coffee.
Let's just not talk about the caffeine intake this week.
On the bright side, my parents are coming from Georgia to visit me on Saturday! They're coming to my concert! Yay! I'm actually really, really excited.
I need another avocado to eat with a spoon.
Goal for this week: wake up, survive, go back to bed. Repeat. Practice, preferably.
I've been doing these things a lot. You know, the things I do when I'm stressed. It's gotten to the point where every Friday night, Erin and I get together and bake something. It's our way of releasing the stress of the week. And it's tasty. We are actually considering starting a YouTube cooking show about how hilariously terrible we are about following the actual instructions, mostly because we're in college, have one measuring cup, one mixing bowl, a spoon, and two cookie sheets.
For example: "cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer" means me making buzzing noises and poking Erin while she mixes the ingredients with a spoon very energetically. Yeah.
I've been so scattered lately. I'm realising that I spend 12+ hours in the music building per day, and that's a conservative estimate. I am realising that every time I am in my room, I am either doing work or sleeping. I don't take breaks because there simply isn't time. I need at least eight more hours in the day to get everything I have to do within a day done and sleep.
Oh, if only we didn't have to sleep.
This week has been insane; one thing after another. Playing Tombeau in rep class, lesson, theory homework, sight-singing transcription, giant computer science program due Friday...
Funny thing is, I haven't been procrastinating. I feel like I'm so scattered because I've been working on all of these things since the weekend. I try to pick them back up and end up having no idea where I left off. I need another hard drive for my brain. And another cup of coffee.
Let's just not talk about the caffeine intake this week.
On the bright side, my parents are coming from Georgia to visit me on Saturday! They're coming to my concert! Yay! I'm actually really, really excited.
I need another avocado to eat with a spoon.
Goal for this week: wake up, survive, go back to bed. Repeat. Practice, preferably.
10.13.2010
The Funk
And now for something completely different:
The past two weeks have been incredibly trying for me as a music major. I have had a very severe case of "the funk."
You know those days when nothing is going right? The solos you've practiced just don't sound quite right and your sound is entirely mediocre and all the brilliance of the weeks past dissipates into this average, ho-hum playing that ends up in a spiral of self-defeat?
It was one of those days. Except for two weeks.
Maybe I'm just a perfectionist, but it's almost impossible for me to practice when I feel like I sound like shit. There's really no such thing as a "practice reed" for me. It might be a reed that used to be a performance reed and is slightly dead. But usually I don't keep reeds I'm uncomfortable playing in front of people around long enough to have anything that qualifies as a "practice reed."
Over the summer, I'd gained consistency in my reedmaking. I was consistently making reeds that I felt comfortable playing on in public. A few of them were good enough to solo on. This trend kept until two weeks ago, when all hell broke loose.
So the past several weeks have been a long series of me exclaiming "I HATE THE OBOE."
And that's what scares me. What scares me the most is growing to hate the thing I love more than anything. It's like when you've practiced something to the point where it starts getting worse and worse with each repetition. It's like the point where you're practicing a piece for an audition or competition. A piece that you love. And you've done so much of it and don't know what more you can do with it that you start hating it. It ended up that I was judging my own playing so much that I couldn't accept the sound that was coming out, so even the Vaughan Williams, one of my favourite pieces of music ever written, was something I hated to practice.
There isn't a point to music if you don't love it. If you've become that jaded and cynical toward music, then it ceases to be music; it becomes a robotic, machine-like practice. And you get bored. And you start to hate it.
This week was the first time since the funk started that I felt comfortable with my playing. I can never get rid of the perfectionistic mentality to want to correct every slight mistake or waver in my tone. But at a certain point, the perfectionist has to give way to the music. The perfectionist has to just SHUT UP long enough for you to just play.
I ended up not practicing for three days one week. That's the longest I've gone without practicing since...I can't even remember. And it took some getting back into. But what made the difference was to step back from my weaknesses and just let it rest. Let my frustration out without worrying that I'd get behind and I'd never get a job and all sorts of horrible things. You can deal three days without practicing. Just don't make it a habit. Sheesh, performance major.
When I came back to the oboe, I took out the Vaughan Williams and just played. I didn't really listen to how I sounded--I didn't really care. I felt the music. And that's what made it worth working for.
The past two weeks have been incredibly trying for me as a music major. I have had a very severe case of "the funk."
You know those days when nothing is going right? The solos you've practiced just don't sound quite right and your sound is entirely mediocre and all the brilliance of the weeks past dissipates into this average, ho-hum playing that ends up in a spiral of self-defeat?
It was one of those days. Except for two weeks.
Maybe I'm just a perfectionist, but it's almost impossible for me to practice when I feel like I sound like shit. There's really no such thing as a "practice reed" for me. It might be a reed that used to be a performance reed and is slightly dead. But usually I don't keep reeds I'm uncomfortable playing in front of people around long enough to have anything that qualifies as a "practice reed."
Over the summer, I'd gained consistency in my reedmaking. I was consistently making reeds that I felt comfortable playing on in public. A few of them were good enough to solo on. This trend kept until two weeks ago, when all hell broke loose.
So the past several weeks have been a long series of me exclaiming "I HATE THE OBOE."
And that's what scares me. What scares me the most is growing to hate the thing I love more than anything. It's like when you've practiced something to the point where it starts getting worse and worse with each repetition. It's like the point where you're practicing a piece for an audition or competition. A piece that you love. And you've done so much of it and don't know what more you can do with it that you start hating it. It ended up that I was judging my own playing so much that I couldn't accept the sound that was coming out, so even the Vaughan Williams, one of my favourite pieces of music ever written, was something I hated to practice.
There isn't a point to music if you don't love it. If you've become that jaded and cynical toward music, then it ceases to be music; it becomes a robotic, machine-like practice. And you get bored. And you start to hate it.
This week was the first time since the funk started that I felt comfortable with my playing. I can never get rid of the perfectionistic mentality to want to correct every slight mistake or waver in my tone. But at a certain point, the perfectionist has to give way to the music. The perfectionist has to just SHUT UP long enough for you to just play.
I ended up not practicing for three days one week. That's the longest I've gone without practicing since...I can't even remember. And it took some getting back into. But what made the difference was to step back from my weaknesses and just let it rest. Let my frustration out without worrying that I'd get behind and I'd never get a job and all sorts of horrible things. You can deal three days without practicing. Just don't make it a habit. Sheesh, performance major.
When I came back to the oboe, I took out the Vaughan Williams and just played. I didn't really listen to how I sounded--I didn't really care. I felt the music. And that's what made it worth working for.
10.10.2010
Things I should have said.
As you probably know, I'm angry. I'm more pissed off about gay rights than usual. Maybe it's just because it's been in the news. Maybe it's because I've been dealing with a lot of stress in my life and this just compounds it with empathy for those teens like Tyler Clementi. Maybe it's because I experienced the same shit they did in high school.
There was an incident in high school where I was forced up against a wall in the photography darkroom after giving a very impassioned pro-gay marriage speech. It was one of two times in my high school career when I had to use physical violence. It's something that's been brought to the forefront of my mind because of the recent suicides due to anti-gay bullying and bullying in general (the latter of which I received a lot more of, but that's another story and it's not something I remain bitter about). It's hard for me to tell people about what happened. But it's something that needs to be said.
It's something that needs to be screamed. It's something that needs to be yelled, shouted, written about, publicised, and most of all, talked about.
I never said anything about what happened to me to anyone in my school's administration. But I should have. I was too afraid for my safety to be out in high school, but I should have made this experience into something that is bigger than me. But what's done is done, and all I can do about it now is talk about it.
So that's what happened to me. It's one incident, but I don't doubt that if I had been out in high school there would have been more. Luckily, I'm a trained martial artist and am confident about my ability to get out of bad situations. I also go to college in a very liberal place with a wonderful LGBT support program. Not everyone has these luxuries. But the one thing that I wish every gay teen could know is that it does get better.
(Don't believe me? Ask the It Gets Better Project .)
I heard about yet another hate crime against the LGBT community today. I doubt these things are happening with greater frequency than before. Now they're simply being paid attention to. As my roommate pointed out, maybe this is a good thing. What we need is awareness. What we need is a voice. What we need is the courage to speak out.
I found out tonight at the IC Wind Ensemble Benefit Concert that October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month. October is also LGBT History Month. October appears to be a month full of awareness. It's a month full of awareness for things that are close to me, being LGBT and the daughter of a breast cancer survivor. So to honour this month of being aware, let's be aware of the abuses that happen every day to LGBT citizens. If you aren't outraged, you're not paying attention.
But more than anger, more than publicity, the things that we can immediately change are our voices. Instead of accepting abuse for who we are, we can speak out. Before anyone can change a social stigma, awareness has to be raised. So use your voice. Speak out. Have no fear.
It gets better.
There was an incident in high school where I was forced up against a wall in the photography darkroom after giving a very impassioned pro-gay marriage speech. It was one of two times in my high school career when I had to use physical violence. It's something that's been brought to the forefront of my mind because of the recent suicides due to anti-gay bullying and bullying in general (the latter of which I received a lot more of, but that's another story and it's not something I remain bitter about). It's hard for me to tell people about what happened. But it's something that needs to be said.
It's something that needs to be screamed. It's something that needs to be yelled, shouted, written about, publicised, and most of all, talked about.
I never said anything about what happened to me to anyone in my school's administration. But I should have. I was too afraid for my safety to be out in high school, but I should have made this experience into something that is bigger than me. But what's done is done, and all I can do about it now is talk about it.
So that's what happened to me. It's one incident, but I don't doubt that if I had been out in high school there would have been more. Luckily, I'm a trained martial artist and am confident about my ability to get out of bad situations. I also go to college in a very liberal place with a wonderful LGBT support program. Not everyone has these luxuries. But the one thing that I wish every gay teen could know is that it does get better.
(Don't believe me? Ask the It Gets Better Project .)
I heard about yet another hate crime against the LGBT community today. I doubt these things are happening with greater frequency than before. Now they're simply being paid attention to. As my roommate pointed out, maybe this is a good thing. What we need is awareness. What we need is a voice. What we need is the courage to speak out.
I found out tonight at the IC Wind Ensemble Benefit Concert that October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month. October is also LGBT History Month. October appears to be a month full of awareness. It's a month full of awareness for things that are close to me, being LGBT and the daughter of a breast cancer survivor. So to honour this month of being aware, let's be aware of the abuses that happen every day to LGBT citizens. If you aren't outraged, you're not paying attention.
But more than anger, more than publicity, the things that we can immediately change are our voices. Instead of accepting abuse for who we are, we can speak out. Before anyone can change a social stigma, awareness has to be raised. So use your voice. Speak out. Have no fear.
It gets better.
10.02.2010
I am angry. And for no trivial reason: Part 2
The more I think about this, the angrier I get. And it's not just at the asshole kids who decided to post the video. It's not just at all the extremist groups who think the entire LGBT community is full of pedophiles and people who want to corrupt the entire youth of our country. It's at the entirety of our society, this homophobic mess that we perpetuate.
"That's so gay" isn't helping. It's not the worst thing in the world, and at this point, it doesn't offend me. But it's the little things that we let slide. It's the comments that teachers and peers choose to ignore. It's the stereotypes we don't correct. What is it about our society that causes the entire media to explode if anything remotely racist is said, but homophobic comments are ignored by most except a few watchgroups specifically for that purpose?
I'm not saying that racism isn't as big of a problem. I'm simply saying that homophobia is just as important. People are people. Black, white, or any colour. Gay, straight, or any colour.
The point I want to make is that if we sit silently, we're letting those who seek to bring us down win. We're allowing them to say their peace without us fighting back. And who is going to stand up for us? No one but ourselves.
This is not a question of whether you are a lover or a fighter. It's a question as to whether your love is worth fighting for. The louder they yell against me, the louder I will yell back. I think of it like the new Civil Rights Era. Racism is still a problem, but we have come a long way since the 60s. It's time we stood up for ourselves.
This is a love worth fighting for.
"That's so gay" isn't helping. It's not the worst thing in the world, and at this point, it doesn't offend me. But it's the little things that we let slide. It's the comments that teachers and peers choose to ignore. It's the stereotypes we don't correct. What is it about our society that causes the entire media to explode if anything remotely racist is said, but homophobic comments are ignored by most except a few watchgroups specifically for that purpose?
I'm not saying that racism isn't as big of a problem. I'm simply saying that homophobia is just as important. People are people. Black, white, or any colour. Gay, straight, or any colour.
The point I want to make is that if we sit silently, we're letting those who seek to bring us down win. We're allowing them to say their peace without us fighting back. And who is going to stand up for us? No one but ourselves.
This is not a question of whether you are a lover or a fighter. It's a question as to whether your love is worth fighting for. The louder they yell against me, the louder I will yell back. I think of it like the new Civil Rights Era. Racism is still a problem, but we have come a long way since the 60s. It's time we stood up for ourselves.
This is a love worth fighting for.
9.30.2010
I am angry. And for no trivial reason.
Today, I heard about a boy who committed suicide because his roommates took a video of him having sex and posted it on the internet. In that sentence alone, there are enough reasons to be angry. Asshole people who defy someone’s right to privacy and cause them to do permanent self-harm. There’s no way the intent of releasing that video could not have been malicious. But what pisses me off more?
He was gay.
How many people are going to have to be put through hell before we, as a society, realise that demonising someone for being who they are is wrong? How many people will have to kill themselves before we wake up and see that the environment we’re creating for people not so different than “the rest of us” is toxic and wrong?
How many people are going to have to go through what I went through in high school-- being called a “dyke” under their breath or worse, that look. How many people are going to go through hell? How many people are going to be physically abused and be too afraid to say something because their school bureaucracy is unkind to their sexual orientation? How many people are going to be too scared to speak up when they know something is wrong? How many people are going to have to quietly suffer?
How many people are going to be defined by simply a small part of who they are? How many people are never going to get the chance to be a person because they’re always going to be “the lesbian?”
How many more people, how many more stories, how many more fears, how many more suicides before our culture realises that this is wrong?
He was gay.
How many people are going to have to be put through hell before we, as a society, realise that demonising someone for being who they are is wrong? How many people will have to kill themselves before we wake up and see that the environment we’re creating for people not so different than “the rest of us” is toxic and wrong?
How many people are going to have to go through what I went through in high school-- being called a “dyke” under their breath or worse, that look. How many people are going to go through hell? How many people are going to be physically abused and be too afraid to say something because their school bureaucracy is unkind to their sexual orientation? How many people are going to be too scared to speak up when they know something is wrong? How many people are going to have to quietly suffer?
How many people are going to be defined by simply a small part of who they are? How many people are never going to get the chance to be a person because they’re always going to be “the lesbian?”
How many more people, how many more stories, how many more fears, how many more suicides before our culture realises that this is wrong?
9.20.2010
Damn Fortune Cookie: My Autobiography
It all started with a G-ddamned cookie.
I was in the eighth grade. I was in love with this girl; she was mystifying. She intrigued me. And by the way her hand brushed past me when we saw each other and all the late-night soul-bearing emails, things were looking good. So finally, the day came when I was going to make my move. A few hours before, I went out for Chinese food, and upon opening my fortune cookie, received the message "all of your love endeavours will be successful." This was a Good Omen, I thought. Things cannot possibly go better tonight, right?
Wrong. Things went horribly awry. Turns out I'd been led on.
Fast forward five years. Here I am, finally in a real and functional relationship, finally back at college after a long summer. I order Chinese food, and crack into my fortune cookie. "Tonight will be a lucky night," it says. This could only mean good things.
That night, we almost broke up. It was a long, tearful night that came to conclusions at 4am--we would stick it out for another month. Feel it out. Gage feelings.
So that's what we did. The past four months have been amazing. I couldn't have been happier, thought things were far from perfect. But I had a relationship built on mutual respect and friendship. And I still have a friendship built on that. But after tonight, I no longer have that relationship.
I am not going to deny that it hurts. It does. It hurts a lot. But it hurts considerably less than not knowing what would have happened. It hurts less than having to wonder every day if this could have worked between us. We did our best. And still things end.
...just after I repented for my sins and started anew with Yom Kippur. Thanks, Irony.
I am coming to terms with the knowledge that things end. I am coming to understand the sentiment that "'tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." (Alfred Lord Tennyson) It's true. I'm glad it happened. It was a good experience for us both. And I still have an amazing best friend.
I could do without the severe, hilarious irony. I'm also starting a personal vendetta against fortune cookies. Death to fortune cookies!
I was in the eighth grade. I was in love with this girl; she was mystifying. She intrigued me. And by the way her hand brushed past me when we saw each other and all the late-night soul-bearing emails, things were looking good. So finally, the day came when I was going to make my move. A few hours before, I went out for Chinese food, and upon opening my fortune cookie, received the message "all of your love endeavours will be successful." This was a Good Omen, I thought. Things cannot possibly go better tonight, right?
Wrong. Things went horribly awry. Turns out I'd been led on.
Fast forward five years. Here I am, finally in a real and functional relationship, finally back at college after a long summer. I order Chinese food, and crack into my fortune cookie. "Tonight will be a lucky night," it says. This could only mean good things.
That night, we almost broke up. It was a long, tearful night that came to conclusions at 4am--we would stick it out for another month. Feel it out. Gage feelings.
So that's what we did. The past four months have been amazing. I couldn't have been happier, thought things were far from perfect. But I had a relationship built on mutual respect and friendship. And I still have a friendship built on that. But after tonight, I no longer have that relationship.
I am not going to deny that it hurts. It does. It hurts a lot. But it hurts considerably less than not knowing what would have happened. It hurts less than having to wonder every day if this could have worked between us. We did our best. And still things end.
...just after I repented for my sins and started anew with Yom Kippur. Thanks, Irony.
I am coming to terms with the knowledge that things end. I am coming to understand the sentiment that "'tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." (Alfred Lord Tennyson) It's true. I'm glad it happened. It was a good experience for us both. And I still have an amazing best friend.
I could do without the severe, hilarious irony. I'm also starting a personal vendetta against fortune cookies. Death to fortune cookies!
9.17.2010
Dear World: On Pants
Dear World,
It is mid-September. The weather is getting to the point where sweatshirts are VERY comfortable and the wind just starts to hurt your ears as you walk int the door. It's great weather for corduroy pants. On the subject of pants, when the weather gets this nippy, why would you want to wear skintight, breathable "pants?"
I am all for girls wearing what they like regardless of body shape. You can find something to flatter any shape. And I am not one of the girls that can wear leggings as pants and get away with it. I simply do not have the shapely rear and things required.
I think maybe four people in the world have that kind of butt.
But (no pun intended), regardless of whether or not you can pull off something flat and skintight emphasising that you're either a) not wearing underwear, or b) have a very intense thong, I do not want to see that much of your rear end. I don't want to have any idea what kind of underwear you're wearing. If you're wearing something that covers your butt and wearing leggings under it, go for it. But leggings as pants?
I'd rather not see your ass.
Love,
Rachel
It is mid-September. The weather is getting to the point where sweatshirts are VERY comfortable and the wind just starts to hurt your ears as you walk int the door. It's great weather for corduroy pants. On the subject of pants, when the weather gets this nippy, why would you want to wear skintight, breathable "pants?"
I am all for girls wearing what they like regardless of body shape. You can find something to flatter any shape. And I am not one of the girls that can wear leggings as pants and get away with it. I simply do not have the shapely rear and things required.
I think maybe four people in the world have that kind of butt.
But (no pun intended), regardless of whether or not you can pull off something flat and skintight emphasising that you're either a) not wearing underwear, or b) have a very intense thong, I do not want to see that much of your rear end. I don't want to have any idea what kind of underwear you're wearing. If you're wearing something that covers your butt and wearing leggings under it, go for it. But leggings as pants?
I'd rather not see your ass.
Love,
Rachel
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