I'm flyingggggggggggg

I was sitting in this airport a year and a week ago. I had just auditioned for the school that I almost went to and it was snowing. I remember watching the snow blow across the concrete of the airport, rivers and streams of hypnotic movement.

I was sitting in this airport a year minus a month ago. It was snowing, again, and the snow was blowing. I had just auditioned at the school I currently go to; it was quite possibly the worst audition I did last year.

I was sitting in this airport a year and a half ago. I was coming back from a music camp, and there were storms all up and down the east coast. My flight was delayed; I waited all afternoon, and got home after midnight.

I know this airport. I know where the bagel stand is, where the newsstands are, at which gates you can find wifi. I know the trek between the two gates, the endless-seeming tunnel of steel and dead, mechanical voices. I know that you can never expect your plane to be on time. I've run from a flight that was delayed coming in to my connection that would be leaving in twenty minutes, expecting to miss it, only to find that that flight was delayed for the next three hours. I've had gate agents ask me if I'm carrying a violin, a viola, a guitar. I've waited with family and friends, I've waited alone.


It was the best of airports, it was the worst of airports.

I'm going home.

peace, solitude, loneliness

On Saturday morning, I woke up and thought I was at home. The dorms were quiet; no one was showering, going up and down the stairs, slamming doors, talking. All but a handful of people were gone by Sunday morning. I have a late final, so am one of the last people here, and it's a strange feeling - somewhat isolated, actually, since I've mostly stayed in my room the past few days, studying and practicing and whatnot. Moments, though, feel more familiar, like being woken up at 6AM by someone yelling in Chinese outside my room as they moved suitcases down the stairwell.

I picked up a cold last week, probably caused by a few too many late nights spent hanging out with my friends. It's still lingering, despite the twelve or so cups of tea I've consumed in the past few days.

Speaking of which, I've developed a real love for tea these past few weeks.

I went to a performance of the Messiah done by the local symphony orchestra, which is one of the best in the world. They did it baroque-style, with a countertenor singing the alto parts, and it was beautiful.

I miss my friends, both those who go to school with me and those who are a thousand miles away. I'm ready to sleep in my own bed and my own room again, to shower without zoris, to eat better food than served in the cafeteria (where, by the way, they've gone into leftover mode).

I took a walk today. It's been nice the past few days, slightly warmer - 40 F or so. Something about the quality of the sunlight, the temperature, the smell of mud in the air reminded me of a birdwatching trip I took with my mother when I was younger. I don't remember where it was or what birds I saw.

I need to practice.

Snow

This is what the world looked like last week.

dilemmas

The campus cafeteria generally has three types of fruit: bananas, apples, and oranges. Sometimes they have unripe pears, too. Once they may have had plums, but those may just have been strange-looking apples. The apples are generally bruised and sometimes wormy; the bananas are sometimes good and sometimes bruised. The oranges tend to be ugly-looking but tasty.

I've been eating a lot of oranges lately because of this, and a lot of them have this funny-looking knob of orange-flesh at the top (or maybe it's the bottom, I'm not a student of orange anatomy). What is one supposed to do with that? Should I eat it? Generally I can't get the peel off of that section, so I leave it. Such a waste of orange, though.

I have the same problem with the little black thing when you open the banana the way it's supposed to be opened, by pinching the non-stem end. I generally break it off and leave it, but it gets messy.

SNOW

IT'S SNOWING THIS IS AMAZING.




Yeah, I grew up in the south, why do you ask?

(picture is from last year, actually - one of the few times it's ever snowed in Cowtown, where I grew up)

Dorm life

Semi-hypocritical self-righteousness:

• Dear vocalists: I love the Magic Flute as much as the next person (heh heh heh), but when you've been blasting it in the lounge all afternoon, my tolerance will be very low when you come in after quiet hours and start singing.
• Dear woodwinds and violist: Remember what I was saying to the vocalists about quiet hours being, you know, quiet? That goes for talking outside my door, too.
• Dear roommate: Your theory teacher did not give you a B because she hates you. She gave you a B because you missed 4 questions out of 20 on one part of the test, and forgot some accidentals (equivalent to using a similar-sounding / similar-spelled but wrong word on a foreign language test) on the dictation.
• Dear whoever uses the second stall in the bathroom: Flush, please.

Things I like about the dorm:

• Being around my friends, all the time.
• Being able to wake up at 7:28 and be on time for a 7:30 class, as roommate has done a few times.
• Not having to clean the bathrooms.
• Whoever put the "please do not masturbate in the showers, the drains can't take it" signs in the boy's bathroom.
• Toilets that flush automatically, most of the time
  
• The lounge
• Friends

after 4ish hours of practice

So I'm thinking that my fingerboard and / or strings might be getting a bit schmutzic...

Why I'm an atheist

My roommate is a fundamentalist Christian, and toward the beginning of the year we had a conversation in which she asked how I could stand to live without God. This is how:

I am an atheist because I do not believe that the existence of some god, a superhuman, supernatural being, omnipotent and omniscient, creator of everything, is at all likely. Where would such a being come from? If such a being exists, why hasn't he/she revealed him/herself in an unmistakable manner? Forget these "God whispers in my head," I want lightning bolts coming from glowing figures in the clouds.

I am an atheist because I think that humans don't need the help, both for the horrible acts and the beautiful. To me, that the human mind can create the Pyramids, Starry Night, television, the steam engine is more wonderful and terrifying than any god.

I am an atheist because I take responsibility for my actions. No God will come clean up my messes, fix my boo-boos, make me pass a test I haven't studied for, save the rainforest. That is up to me. It would be comforting to believe that everything would magically get better, but the problems would still be there. It's up to us to take action.

I am an atheist because religion does not offer answers. "It's God's will" does not cure the sick or help us understand the universe or tell us why we're the way we are. There, science rules, and religion just adds a further step of complication.

I am an atheist because I do not need to believe in a deity to behave morally.

I am an atheist because I believe that promoting xenophobia is reprehensible; because I believe that condemning someone to torture for different beliefs is childish and petty; because I believe that obliging half of the population to live as second-class citizens due to their genitalia is repugnant; because I believe that life is more precious than any doctrine or dogma.

I am an atheist because I am not such a special snowflake that the universe cares whether my team wins, or what I do on Sundays, or what I drink, or if I cover my hair, or who I sleep with, or what I believe. My mother does care, though.

I am an atheist because no god who allows war / famine / genocide / natural disasters to occur and millions to starve is worth worshiping.

I am an atheist because the knowledge that this life is all I get inspires me to make the most of it. If we lived eternally, I would have no motivation to accomplish anything of worth - there'd always be tomorrow - but with no afterlife, making a positive contribution to the world (and enjoying myself now) becomes all the more important.

I am an atheist because I find more peace in playing unaccompanied Bach or watching birds than in rituals and superstition.

I am an atheist.

(so I'm also in a late-night-philosophizing mood and taking myself too seriously, so sue me)

oops

So maybe taking most of Thanksgiving break off from practicing wasn't the best idea?


At least it's highly improbable that my orchestra audition tomorrow can go any worse than my lesson today...


(view from the window of the bedroom where I was staying)

anticipation

I've never been able to cope well with suspense or waiting. I get anxious and jumpy. My stomach gets upset, my throat gets sore. I start pacing, I talk faster than normal, I'm unable to concentrate.

Sometimes practicing helps me calm down. The familiarity of taking my violin out of the case, rosining the bow, tuning, playing scales allows me to relax; having something to focus on, fix my attention to, can snap me out of the jittery state.

Sometimes I'm unable to focus on even that. Sometimes it isn't an option, like when I'm watching a movie. I can only watch movies with a friend narrating - I can't handle suspense without knowing what's going to happen, (and I have problems dealing with major emotional turmoil).

Maybe everyone deals with this.

But for now, the taxi that takes me to the airport is almost here, and my flight to Big City of Lights leaves in a few hours.


(Re: my theory final - the part I was worrying about ended up not being on there. I got an A+)

bleh

I've had a post kicking around in my head in response to the Ray Comfort Origin of Species handout deal for a while, since Wednesday at least.

I'm too tired and stressed to write it.

I have a theory final tomorrow, which I don't feel prepared for. I know that I'm going to miss one section of eartraining completely - so much for my A+ in the class - and I'm worried that I'm going to make a stupid mistake or forget one of my idioms, stuff that I should know.

I have a lesson tomorrow. I won't have time to warm up because I'll be studying for my theory final. Not to mention a quartet performance.

I began today euphoric. Last night was amazing to a degree that makes me feel somewhat guilty; mood-alteration is far too tempting to repeat any time in the near future. I had a great practice session, was relaxed, happy, glad to be alive.

Now I'm just stressed.

my life, in haiku

Orchestra again?
Good music, but so tired.
I just want to sleep.

Loud people: shut up.
I don't want to hear you skype
with boyfriend, roommate.

My theory class: oy.
Eartraining final Monday,
I'm so not ready.

Ray Comfort's intro
to Origin of Species:
Simply laughable.

firsts

My freshman year of high school, I went away from home for the first time, for the four days of all-state orchestra. I played in my first full orchestra, playing Shostakovich 5 and Bernstein's Overture to Candide (second violin, inside), sat next to the first (and, so far, only) boy on whom I've had a serious crush. We said maybe two words to each other the first three days (he offered me a gummy bear, I accepted); the last day, he asked me for my email and phone number.

A year later, we met again, at all-state, this time playing I think it was Bartok Concerto for Orchestra. We spent the entire time together, and, a few days later, he became my first boyfriend. A few months after that, when he went off to college, I went off to summer camp, and we realized we'd never see each other again, we broke up.

This weekend, I went to a dance / party at the university that my school is kind-of-sort-of-maybe a part of. It wasn't very good, but a guy asked me to dance; I accepted. Eventually, we ended up making out, my first kiss.

Now he's calling me. I don't know what to do; he's not really my type and I feel embarrassed about the whole situation.

I'm playing Shostakovich 5 and Bernstein's Overture to Candide in the same program in my school's orchestra. I'm second violin, inside part.

FUBAR

My body is a mess.

Both forearms and wrists are rather fragile, and have been wavering on the border between tendonitis and not-tendonitis since I was thirteen; they were fine for some years, but once I started practicing more when I reached college, they went kaplooie. Fortunately, they un-kaplooied after I took a few weeks easy.

My lower back is crooked, thanks to my hip. It's genetic - my mother and grandmother were both born with the same crooked right hip as I have.

I had a nosebleed this morning.

My violin hickey is inflamed, and hurts when anything comes into contact with it.

I haven't gotten enough sleep for a week or two, and so am headache-y and stomach ache-y and have a sore throat. Not to mention lack of ability to concentrate.

Because of the aforementioned hickey, I've been holding my violin slightly differently for the past few days. Now my shoulder starts to hurt whenever I practice more than two hours in one session.

My abs are sore, too.


At least I have my health.


(yeah, it's not actually that bad, just having a good whinge)

slip away across the universe

A teacher with whom I studied violin for six weeks two summers ago died last night. She had a truly inspirational career as a performer and teacher, was one of the first female section leaders of a major US orchestra, and, above all, was one of the most optimistic, generous, open, loving people I've ever known. I was working on the Tchaikovsky violin concerto that summer, mostly the second and third movements, and she taught me how to play it musically, how to get across the emotions that the music is begging to release. She helped me with my college applications, writing recommendations for me and helping me figure out my options.

What I remember most, though, is how she seemed to exude joy with everything she did, how, by example, she made you realize what a wonderful thing it was to be alive and playing music. Her smile, too, was contagious - and I remember her telling a story about her car breaking down or something along those lines and concluding with the thought that a smile can be one of one's most useful tools. Watching her made me want to be a better person.


Ihr Leben ließ die Kunst zu sterben
In unverrückter Übung sehn;
Unmöglich konnt es denn geschehn,
Sich vor dem Tode zu entfärben.
- Bach Cantata BWV 198

Napolean

I grew up with Daniel Pinkwater's books, from Tooth-gnasher Superflash to the Fat Camp Commandos to Alan Mendelsohn to Uncle Boris's dogs. They were, and still are, wacky, bizarre, off-beat, awesome. His noncomformist characters are probably why I never felt odd having different interests from my peers, why I was never intimidated by the popular crowd, why I went out of my way to antagonize said popular crowd...

The other day I went into the Miniature Bootshaped-Country section of Northern Midwest City with some friends, heading to a cafe for coffee (them) and pastries (me). Among the chocolate eclairs and canolis and tiramisu and brownies was, I was delighted to see, a shelf with Napoleans, their creamy custard slightly oozing out of the sides, the top glazed with a shell of chocolate-patterned fondant.

One common motif of Pinkwater's books is food. Specifically, yummy, unhealthy food. In one of his Snarkout Boys books, at least a chapter is dedicated to the characters eating a Napolean. It is described as out of this world, ectasy in pastry form, heaven on Earth. I had no idea what they were; I imagined them as some mythical beast, cream-filled and beautiful, existing only in a diner in New Jersey. They are, in fact, cream-filled and beautiful, but can indeed be found outside Hoboken.

What they are, also, is messy. When I tried to eat it with a fork, the filling squirted out the sides; when I gave up on table manners and bit into it, my mouth was covered in chocolate. The pastry was dry and flaky; the custard was light and airy; the glaze was delicious, but almost too pretty to eat.

Daniel Pinkwater, you have good taste in pastry.

print "Hello, World!\n";

When I decided to start a blog, I had forty minutes remaining until I had to leave for class. There are now around five. Some of the time was spent eating chocolate; some was spent making a new email account not connected with me, some of it was spent looking at a video of barnacles mating, which was strangely beautiful. I think it was all the waving fringe.

Today, too, is gorgeous: crisp, clear bright sky, sun shining, trees all golden and orange. This is my first real fall, though it may be getting toward winter now: I grew up in the land of the subtropics, where summer stretches from April to November and winter rarely reaches 0 (C).

----

It's now several hours later; I went to class and then met up with a friend for coffee and cake. As I was walking, I saw a house sparrow in the grass and a robin in a tree. The cake was very good, and very rich; we split a piece, but neither of us could finish it.

I need to practice more, both violin and piano, but I don't know if I'm going to do that today - I want to go to a recital later. I'm having scheduling problems, too - one of the classes I want to take next semester ends at the same time that orchestra begins; I think it should be fine, but I need to talk to the orchestra manager about it.

The post times for this are off. I will change it manually.

Tonight, I go to bed early.