Sunday, November 20, 2011
Thanksgiving
I'm so excited for Thanksgiving Break--just three more days and I'll be home! But, just like Mid-Sem break in October, it's probably going to be over before I know it (how's that for pessimistic? WHAT HAS COLLEGE DONE TO ME?).
This semester has had its peaks and valleys, and I'm still trying to figure out how to operate within this new world. That sounds like an exaggeration, but that's really what it feels like. And not the happy Aladdin kind, either. It's been rough, dealing with the stress of classes and not having the luxury of free/dreaming/guitar-playing/journal-and-blog-writing time. It's freakin' hard interesting being a college student, when I'm coming from a very different philosophy of learning and living. A lot of times I feel like a square peg being forced into a round hole. But along with that, there have been good things as well, like being in choir, playing on the Quidditch team, learning to speak German, and meeting lots of cool friends and mentors. I'll get used to things eventually...
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Failure and success
Sometimes I am just amazed at how close the distance between failure and success is. As a pianist, a C chord is millimeters away from a B chord. Drop your hand a quarter inch to the left and there's dissonance and a cringing panic in the chest as you try to adjust.
You've played this piece a hundred times, probably more, at various tempos, in so many different ways, taking apart the voicing and the nuances, studying in such detail the way your piano part fits with the voice parts, and still, when you put it all together, there is a surprise. "How fascinating!" one of my mentors advises me to think when the unthinkable occurs in performances. "OMG!" or "what the F#ck" is what really goes through my head when the unexpected happens.
Yes, those of us who know the piece in such great detail know exactly where we have fallen short, while those listening may only hear a momentary pause, a slight hesitation, or a moment of awkwardness. Sometimes the failure is barely noticeable, sometimes not.
But we who perform know.
And we care outrageously.
It's a good thing, in that the knowing and the caring spurs us on to greater practice, greater precision, greater efforts that eventually produce greater results.
But at the moment of failure, and the remembrance of it, even with many many many successes on its heels, it still feels like *shit*. We go home, we cry, we kick ourselves, we replay the failure many times more than we replay the success.
And we ask ourselves [again, and again, and again], am I going to give up or am I going to go on?
And we take a nap, and then we go on.
You've played this piece a hundred times, probably more, at various tempos, in so many different ways, taking apart the voicing and the nuances, studying in such detail the way your piano part fits with the voice parts, and still, when you put it all together, there is a surprise. "How fascinating!" one of my mentors advises me to think when the unthinkable occurs in performances. "OMG!" or "what the F#ck" is what really goes through my head when the unexpected happens.
Yes, those of us who know the piece in such great detail know exactly where we have fallen short, while those listening may only hear a momentary pause, a slight hesitation, or a moment of awkwardness. Sometimes the failure is barely noticeable, sometimes not.
But we who perform know.
And we care outrageously.
It's a good thing, in that the knowing and the caring spurs us on to greater practice, greater precision, greater efforts that eventually produce greater results.
But at the moment of failure, and the remembrance of it, even with many many many successes on its heels, it still feels like *shit*. We go home, we cry, we kick ourselves, we replay the failure many times more than we replay the success.
And we ask ourselves [again, and again, and again], am I going to give up or am I going to go on?
And we take a nap, and then we go on.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Coming home
I've been enjoying a weekend home from school, and man it feels good. The reason I came down after only a month away is because the music director at my church needed an accordion player. Of all things. Naturally I jumped at the chance, and had a fun time playing with a polka band in church as part of an Oktoberfest worship celebration. Yes, my life is awesome.
It was really fun today seeing all my friends at church. I love it at school, and I'm weathering the challenges well, but there's no place like home. Actually, I spent so much of my time in high school at church, that a lot of people were not surprised at all to see me around this morning. Aside from jamming out on the accordion, I've spent my time finishing a research paper, which I'm glad to be done with, and practicing piano with my snazzy new metronome (which looks like a miniature beige coffin, which is why I associate metronomes with DEATH).
Today I've just been hanging out, knitting, and watching football. I miss this idea of free time!
My home-schooled background has helped me in a lot of ways; I get stuff done promptly, and I'm not burned out from years of being in school already, so I'm curious as to how things all work. Doesn't mean I like all the deadlines and creating annotated bibliographies, the late nights, and general fast pace of everything, but I roll with the punches. Even though I'm in college, I still identify myself as a home-schooler-–four years of college won't change that.
It was really fun today seeing all my friends at church. I love it at school, and I'm weathering the challenges well, but there's no place like home. Actually, I spent so much of my time in high school at church, that a lot of people were not surprised at all to see me around this morning. Aside from jamming out on the accordion, I've spent my time finishing a research paper, which I'm glad to be done with, and practicing piano with my snazzy new metronome (which looks like a miniature beige coffin, which is why I associate metronomes with DEATH).
Today I've just been hanging out, knitting, and watching football. I miss this idea of free time!
My home-schooled background has helped me in a lot of ways; I get stuff done promptly, and I'm not burned out from years of being in school already, so I'm curious as to how things all work. Doesn't mean I like all the deadlines and creating annotated bibliographies, the late nights, and general fast pace of everything, but I roll with the punches. Even though I'm in college, I still identify myself as a home-schooler-–four years of college won't change that.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Irish Fair!
Yesterday I spent the afternoon at the Irish Fair. It was so cool! And of course the best part for me was the Irish musicians, performing all types of traditional music all day. The Fair was held at Harriet Island, which looks over the beautiful Mississippi River in St. Paul, and honestly, we couldn't have asked for a more gorgeous day. I went with a few friends, and we just set up our chairs under a big shady tree by the main music stage, then we'd go off and explore. There was a big merch tent with tons of cool/expensive stuff, from jewelry to Irish rugby jerseys to Celtic instruments and swords.
Oh, and kilts. Lots and lots of kilts. I would say the vast majority of men I saw were sporting them. It was quite the fashion parade: some of them were the traditional plaid tartan patterns in green, blue, black or red, but there were also lots of modern and/or unusual kilts, like blaze orange, Yield sign yellow, camouflage and denim. I would have loved to get good pictures, but it's just the tiniest bit awkward, you see.
Although I got this one, because I loved his socks.
(I made the mistake of wearing a black t-shirt amongst all of the green. Totally anti-festive. I don't even have a U2 t-shirt)
There was a sheep herding demonstration...
and a hurling match.
alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641460260060675218" />
First of all, it's not THAT type of hurling.
I didn't get there in time to hear the exact rules of the game, but from what I could tell it looked similar to lacrosse. Instead of sticks with nets, though, they were wooden sticks with a flat, paddle-like end, which they used to scoop up the ball and whack it to their teammates. It was fun to watch, but I have no idea who won.
I didn't get a picture, but the Irish wolfhounds came out in droves. They are so huge! If they stood on their hind legs I'm sure they'd be taller than me. Want.
After all our exploring, we ended up sitting under the shady tree, listening to the great music as the afternoon cooled into the evening. It was a great time...I hope I can go again next year.
Oh, and kilts. Lots and lots of kilts. I would say the vast majority of men I saw were sporting them. It was quite the fashion parade: some of them were the traditional plaid tartan patterns in green, blue, black or red, but there were also lots of modern and/or unusual kilts, like blaze orange, Yield sign yellow, camouflage and denim. I would have loved to get good pictures, but it's just the tiniest bit awkward, you see.
Although I got this one, because I loved his socks.
(I made the mistake of wearing a black t-shirt amongst all of the green. Totally anti-festive. I don't even have a U2 t-shirt)
There was a sheep herding demonstration...
and a hurling match.
alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641460260060675218" />
First of all, it's not THAT type of hurling.
I didn't get there in time to hear the exact rules of the game, but from what I could tell it looked similar to lacrosse. Instead of sticks with nets, though, they were wooden sticks with a flat, paddle-like end, which they used to scoop up the ball and whack it to their teammates. It was fun to watch, but I have no idea who won.
I didn't get a picture, but the Irish wolfhounds came out in droves. They are so huge! If they stood on their hind legs I'm sure they'd be taller than me. Want.
After all our exploring, we ended up sitting under the shady tree, listening to the great music as the afternoon cooled into the evening. It was a great time...I hope I can go again next year.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
I'm blogging right now from my new Mac, and it makes me oh-so-happy. I've never owned one before, so it'll be interesting trying to figure everything out before I leave for school--yikes-- in a few weeks. The Apple Store in Mall of America was crazy busy and slightly intimidating, but we emerged triumphant with a MacBook Pro awhile later.
In the afternoon, my brother and I zipped up to Fort Snelling, where they were hosting a shape note singing get-together. If you want to know more about shape note music (also called Sacred Harp), you'll find me explaining it in this post.
I'd never been to a singing before, and was a bit nervous. I walked into a small schoolroom where singers had gathered.
"Would you like to sing with us?" one of them asked. When I said yes, he said, "There's songbooks over there, fans right there, and water over here. Get those and you can take a seat." I filled up my water bottle, passed on the paper fan, got the songbook, which said The Sacred Harp on the cover, and sat in the alto section. My brother had gone off on his own to explore the rest of the Fort, hang out at the blacksmith's, and watch the cannon presentation, of course.
It was hot and muggy outside, and inside the schoolroom it wasn't much better. Behind me I heard a few mutterings that it wouldn't be a Sacred Harp singing without a lack of air conditioning. The singing got started after about 20 people had gathered. Most of them had been singing Sacred Harp music for a number of years, meeting weekly in the Twin Cities to sing and attending conventions throughout the state and country. I made sure to sit next to one of those people, and luckily, my neighbor could really belt it out. Whenever I lost my place in the music (which happened a lot), I'd just do whatever she did.
Shape note singers sit in a hollow square formation. Anybody can suggest a song, and anybody can get up to lead it from the middle of the hollow square. Leading a song means you give the pitches for Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass, and keep the tempo by waving your arm up and down, pretty much. The huge amount of sound we were able to produce was startling. People visiting the Fort would pop their heads in wondering what all the ruckus was, and sometimes they'd even join us.
After an hour we stopped to take a break, because the leader of the cannon presentation had to start presenting outside our door. Certain singers had brought food for a potluck, so we ate and chatted for 20 minutes or so. My observation is that fellowship is as much a part of the Sacred Harp tradition as singing is--and it made things even more fun! Because firstly, the fact that any of us were there meant that we were a very unique, unusual set of people: I met some like me who had first heard of Sacred Harp through the Internet, documentaries, and the movie Cold Mountain. Most of them were my parent's age or older, except for me and a few college-age girls. The resurgence of Sacred Harp has definitely been an intergenerational kind of movement across the country, though. I don't want to say "popularity," because it's still such a fringy thing, like being a Civil War reenactor or speaking Esperanto.
I got talking with one guy who, on finding out it was my first time at a singing, convinced me to lead a song with his help. That was exciting! Of course, as a newcomer, it wasn't always easy to keep up, but it was still by far the funnest and unabashedly nerdiest thing I could have done with my day. The people were welcoming, and the music and energy were exhilarating.
It was weird, though: I went from the Apple Store in the morning, to singing 18th century church music all afternoon. It was a time warp of a day!
In the afternoon, my brother and I zipped up to Fort Snelling, where they were hosting a shape note singing get-together. If you want to know more about shape note music (also called Sacred Harp), you'll find me explaining it in this post.
I'd never been to a singing before, and was a bit nervous. I walked into a small schoolroom where singers had gathered.
"Would you like to sing with us?" one of them asked. When I said yes, he said, "There's songbooks over there, fans right there, and water over here. Get those and you can take a seat." I filled up my water bottle, passed on the paper fan, got the songbook, which said The Sacred Harp on the cover, and sat in the alto section. My brother had gone off on his own to explore the rest of the Fort, hang out at the blacksmith's, and watch the cannon presentation, of course.
It was hot and muggy outside, and inside the schoolroom it wasn't much better. Behind me I heard a few mutterings that it wouldn't be a Sacred Harp singing without a lack of air conditioning. The singing got started after about 20 people had gathered. Most of them had been singing Sacred Harp music for a number of years, meeting weekly in the Twin Cities to sing and attending conventions throughout the state and country. I made sure to sit next to one of those people, and luckily, my neighbor could really belt it out. Whenever I lost my place in the music (which happened a lot), I'd just do whatever she did.
Shape note singers sit in a hollow square formation. Anybody can suggest a song, and anybody can get up to lead it from the middle of the hollow square. Leading a song means you give the pitches for Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass, and keep the tempo by waving your arm up and down, pretty much. The huge amount of sound we were able to produce was startling. People visiting the Fort would pop their heads in wondering what all the ruckus was, and sometimes they'd even join us.
After an hour we stopped to take a break, because the leader of the cannon presentation had to start presenting outside our door. Certain singers had brought food for a potluck, so we ate and chatted for 20 minutes or so. My observation is that fellowship is as much a part of the Sacred Harp tradition as singing is--and it made things even more fun! Because firstly, the fact that any of us were there meant that we were a very unique, unusual set of people: I met some like me who had first heard of Sacred Harp through the Internet, documentaries, and the movie Cold Mountain. Most of them were my parent's age or older, except for me and a few college-age girls. The resurgence of Sacred Harp has definitely been an intergenerational kind of movement across the country, though. I don't want to say "popularity," because it's still such a fringy thing, like being a Civil War reenactor or speaking Esperanto.
I got talking with one guy who, on finding out it was my first time at a singing, convinced me to lead a song with his help. That was exciting! Of course, as a newcomer, it wasn't always easy to keep up, but it was still by far the funnest and unabashedly nerdiest thing I could have done with my day. The people were welcoming, and the music and energy were exhilarating.
It was weird, though: I went from the Apple Store in the morning, to singing 18th century church music all afternoon. It was a time warp of a day!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Comings and Goings
I have four children, ages 23, 21, 18, and 14.
The 23 year old, after not living at home for four years, is home. Home for the summer, home for a last semester of college this fall. Then we'll see.
Home and remembering house rules. Pick up after yourself. Replace the toilet roll when you use it up. Ask before you borrow the car. Fill the tank. Wash your own dishes. Don't assume all the steak in the freezer is yours. Make your own bed.
Home and contributing to family life. He loves to grill. He doesn't mind physical labor, hot and sweaty garden projects. He offers his technology when the house DVD player breaks down. Nice give and take.
The 21 year old is away. Living on her own, or almost. Taking responsibility for herself, mostly. Until tuition payments are due.
She checks in more frequently than she did when she had something to prove [to herself? to us? to whom?]
The 18 year old is making lists. Phone, checking account, laptop, laundry detergent, and all the other things she needs before she moves to college dorm life.
That one spends more time considering how many musical instruments will fit in her dorm room than she spends on what clothes, books, or gadgets to pack. Latest count: violin, guitar, mandolin, dulcimer [it's small] all go. Piano [it's MINE] stays. Accordion [it's not hers either] goes back to its orginal owner. Cello, that's up for debate. Is there room in her closet?
The fourteen year old schemes and plans about having his bedroom to himself again.
And me? It's going to be quiet in my house this fall.
We're going to have to negotiate cars if the 23 year old plans to commute to school this fall.
I'm proud to see my kids accept the responsibility of independence. And I'm pleased to see they can ask for help [and a spare bedroom] when circumstances warrant that. Love to see them go, see them grow, see them live in community, see them give back where ever they are.
For a long time I've said, healthy birds leave the nest.
But healthy people know when to ask for help, and a temporary home.
Love my kids, coming and going. Growing.
The 23 year old, after not living at home for four years, is home. Home for the summer, home for a last semester of college this fall. Then we'll see.
Home and remembering house rules. Pick up after yourself. Replace the toilet roll when you use it up. Ask before you borrow the car. Fill the tank. Wash your own dishes. Don't assume all the steak in the freezer is yours. Make your own bed.
Home and contributing to family life. He loves to grill. He doesn't mind physical labor, hot and sweaty garden projects. He offers his technology when the house DVD player breaks down. Nice give and take.
The 21 year old is away. Living on her own, or almost. Taking responsibility for herself, mostly. Until tuition payments are due.
She checks in more frequently than she did when she had something to prove [to herself? to us? to whom?]
The 18 year old is making lists. Phone, checking account, laptop, laundry detergent, and all the other things she needs before she moves to college dorm life.
That one spends more time considering how many musical instruments will fit in her dorm room than she spends on what clothes, books, or gadgets to pack. Latest count: violin, guitar, mandolin, dulcimer [it's small] all go. Piano [it's MINE] stays. Accordion [it's not hers either] goes back to its orginal owner. Cello, that's up for debate. Is there room in her closet?
The fourteen year old schemes and plans about having his bedroom to himself again.
And me? It's going to be quiet in my house this fall.
We're going to have to negotiate cars if the 23 year old plans to commute to school this fall.
I'm proud to see my kids accept the responsibility of independence. And I'm pleased to see they can ask for help [and a spare bedroom] when circumstances warrant that. Love to see them go, see them grow, see them live in community, see them give back where ever they are.
For a long time I've said, healthy birds leave the nest.
But healthy people know when to ask for help, and a temporary home.
Love my kids, coming and going. Growing.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Guilty
I am feeling a lot of Mom Guilt this week.
Emily is gone for the week, and I'm so happy to have the piano all to myself. [guilt, guilt.]
I don't have to have an early morning consultation each day about who gets to practice when.
I just get to practice whenever I want. Whenever I don't have a student. Whenever I feeeeeeel like playing.
[guilt, guilt.]
A good mom would be happy to share her piano.
A good mom would take delight in her child's passion, discipline and drive toward success.
[guilt, guilt.]
I really do take delight in all those things. And, I wish I could have my piano all to myself, at my beck and call, and not have to share.
[guilt, guilt]
Em's got access to a piano where she is.
[happy, happy.]
Emily is gone for the week, and I'm so happy to have the piano all to myself. [guilt, guilt.]
I don't have to have an early morning consultation each day about who gets to practice when.
I just get to practice whenever I want. Whenever I don't have a student. Whenever I feeeeeeel like playing.
[guilt, guilt.]
A good mom would be happy to share her piano.
A good mom would take delight in her child's passion, discipline and drive toward success.
[guilt, guilt.]
I really do take delight in all those things. And, I wish I could have my piano all to myself, at my beck and call, and not have to share.
[guilt, guilt]
Em's got access to a piano where she is.
[happy, happy.]
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