Saturday, January 22, 2011

If I had all the time in the world...

...these are the books I would read.  I have a bad habit of going into the library, either here in the music library or the public library down the street, and picking more books than I could ever read in my sparse amount of spare time.  When I first found the Music Psychology section in the library here, I nearly wet myself.  So many books about stuff that I'm actually *interested* in, shelves and shelves of them.  And then on Friday, I found the Music Therapy section.  Let's just say I was nearly late to class.  And nobody could sit in the seat next to me because that's where my books were sitting.  (I prefer not to sit next to anyone, anyway).  I managed to show a little restraint and only check out what I knew I could get home on the bus, so at least there's that.  I am so incredibly interested in the processes and interactions of music and emotions.  I know they're linked.  Music wouldn't be music without the emotions that they evoke.   I have a whole host of hypotheses that I want to research and work with someday regarding the ideas, but these books are all I can do for now. 

This is the stack of books I'd like to read, currently residing under an end table.

(keep in mind, some of these are for my comps research-- you'll be able to tell which ones)

The titles include:
The Mozart Companion, H. C. Robbins Landon, Donald Mitchell;
The Art of Possibility, Benjamin Zander
Secrets of Musical Confidence, Andy Evans
The Inner Game of Music, Barry Green
The Social Psychology of Music, David Hargreaves and Adrian North
Music and the Mind in Everyday Life, Eric Clarke
Emotional Response to Music, Wayne Goins
Music, Thought, and Feeling: Understanding the Psychology of Music, William Forde Thompson
Dynamics of Music in Psychotherapy, Kenneth E. Bruscia
Listening to Music in Psychotherapy, Mary Butterton
Tao of Music, John Oritz
The Highly Sensitive Person, Elaine N. Aron
A Beginner's Guide to Zen Buddhism, Jean Smith
The Dance Most of All, Jack Gilbert
Gifted Grownups, Marylou Kelly Streznewski
The Exquisite Risk, Mark Nepo
Meditations from the Mat: Daily Reflections on the Path of Yoga, Katrina Kenison and Rolf Gates

Perhaps if I read enough I'll be able to figure out what I *should* be doing.  But really, I'm trying not to think about the fact that none of these books that I'm so excited about have anything to do with this degree I'm going thousands of dollars into debt to get.  I don't really have time for a full out nervous breakdown right now.

A Note on Bread

I can't tell you exactly when this new pastime of mine began, but I can tell you that I don't see it ending any time soon.  It started with one considerably awful loaf of white bread that more resembled a brick than edible food, and a loaf after that in which I forgot to add the yeast.  But the process, oh my goodness, it was so wonderful.  I like bread, don't get me wrong.  In fact, I'd eat nothing but carbs if given the option.  But I think that I bake bread for the process of baking, not for the eating (which is a nice outcome, though).

The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes.  I've been needing, clamoring for, really, some way to feel connected, grounded, like a living member of humanity and not just a fixture of the music library or a lone existence in my tiny, soundproof practice room.  Think about it.  What is more natural than baking bread?  People have been doing this for centuries, probably thousands of years.  It's changed, sure, but bread has been around nearly as long as people.  It seems almost congruent with life.

And it's so, so simple.  Flour, water, yeast.  Some time in a hot oven.  It's beautiful.  And delicious!  For some reason, I find it so incredibly comforting that here in 2010, I'm doing something so normal and human.  And the kneading requires time, effort, and, depending on the kind of bread, you really have to put your weight into it.  As you knead, it starts as a bowl of flour and water, crumbly in places, sticky and gooey in others, and within 10 or 15 minutes of rhythmic breathing, folding, pressing and turning, it turns into this cohesive thing, this cool, elastic ball of silky dough.  And it rises!  That's my favorite part, when I go check on it and find that it's doubled in size and is filled with big air holes from the yeast feeding.  And then you punch it down, the air forced out as you push, and then it rises all over again.  Another thing that I really love about this is how lovely it makes my house smell!  If there was a way to put a scent on this blog, you'd want to move in with me.  Which brings me to another thing I love about this-- I get to give it away.  I don't have a lot of time or money these days, but I don't know of anyone who doesn't appreciate a loaf of hand-made bread.  I don't know a whole lot of people in this city, but to those I do, it feels nice to give something away, something I've made by hand.  I've always been a fan of hand-made cards and presents and I like that I have an excuse to do that kind of thing for no reason at all.  Plus, there's no way I can eat it all.  As I'm trying to perfect these recipes, I'm making more loaves than I can possibly ever eat myself, and I don't want them to go to waste :)

It's sort of like the edible version of knitting.  Doing something mindless, something that doesn't require my brain to short out or my eyes to water, but a way for me to use my hands for something productive and with a tangible outcome.

So here's a pictorial view of how this works.  This is sourdough bread, start to finish:

Sourdough Starter

This is sourdough starter.  I used natural yeast out of the air, which means that I let my flour and water mixture sit covered with a tea cloth and waited for some of the yeast to land and start feeding and multiplying.  The initial process took about two weeks for the starter to be ready to use and it went through some interesting stages of looks and smells before it finally settled on a foamy texture and the smell of fermentation and bread.  It almost smells like beer!  Every couple days I dump a little out and replace it with equal parts flour and water so the yeast can continue to feed and ferment. 

Sponge- flour, water, and starter

Next, before I go to bed one night, I make what's called the sponge.  This is half of the flour and water for the actual dough recipe, plus a ladle of the starter.  It sits covered in a warm place overnight.

 Sponge after sitting all night

As you can see, this looks like a sponge-- hence the name.  It has huge air holes but is not solid like dough.  The next morning (or, after I get home from my morning classes) you add the rest of the flour and make the dough, kneading for approximately 10 minutes.  Not too little time or the gluten won't form correctly and it won't rise, and not too much time, either, as it will be too hard and solid.





Rising.


The dough rests in my "dough incubator" in my laundry room.  This is sort of ghetto-rigged, but I think it works just fine. The dough sits in a glass bowl (never metal as that reacts with and kills the yeast) inside a big (unused) plastic garbage bag.  I also sit my space heater on the washer to make the room nice and warm-- perfect rising environment!






Sourdough and Whole Wheat/Corn Meal/Hazelnut bread before 1st rise


Once your dough has doubled in size, you dump it onto the counter and gently deflate it, pressing out all the air.  This is a gentle process, not as vigorous as kneading.  Form it again into a round and put it back in the bowl in the bag in the laundry room.  Do this up to 4 or 5 times, depending on the time you have.  With my sourdough, I've found it takes about an hour or so for each rise.  This creates for a long process and lots of waiting time.

Punched down and ready to rise again!

So what do I do in the interim of punching down and rising?  Practice!

 Practice area all set up and cluttered.


After the dough has risen between 2 and 5 times (I usually get antsy and go for 3 or 4 rises), you use a sharp knife and split it into the number of loaves you want.  Then they are formed into rounds and sit on a (clean) tea towel with (fresh) flour or cornmeal so that they don't stick to the towel and that the bottoms are coated when they go into the oven.  This process is called Proofing, and the balls of dough proof for between 15 and 30 minutes, just enough to get used to their new shape and to puff up a little before baking.

Proofing.

Last step!  Baking.  They rise a good deal more in the oven, so they need ample room on the sheets.  I slit the tops with a sharp knife to give the bread room to rise, otherwise they can crack.  Sometimes they crack anyway.  I haven't figured out how to make pretty *looking* loaves yet.  But soon.

Finished loaves

All finished!  They're crazy hot to touch when they come out of the oven (you'd think I'd stop feeling the need to touch them straight out of the oven, but I keep burning my fingers), so be careful and use a pot holder to remove them.  Let them sit for a little while, then enjoy!

I know this is a crazy process to go through all the time, but I love it.  Next on my list of things to try are Naan, bagels, and English Crumpets (for Judith!)

Oh, Grad School

I recently found these and they're too good not to share.  If only there weren't so much truth in them.

Sigh.  This article is my life right now.
Why not to go to grad school: There is a psychological cost for quitting.



Friday, January 21, 2011

Sturm und Drang

One of the things that I really want to get in the habit of doing this year (note the deliberate non-usage of the word "resolutions") is writing something, somewhere, every day.  I am by nature a writer. I can often get a hold of feelings and thoughts, find words to match what's going on in my head and heart, only when I start writing.  When I go for long periods of time without some space for just myself, my journal, and a nice cup of coffee or tea, I tend to get antsy, angry, lonely, and misunderstood.  And I've come to realize that this loneliness and misunderstanding is not a need for other people but a deep need for, well, me.  So far, I've done alright with my goal of writing, even if it's just a small snipped of something I've thought or a quote I find some resonance with.  But for the stuff that I find really interesting or something that I think other people might enjoy hearing about, I think I'll write that here.  We can all see how well I did with keeping up with this blog from last semester (i.e.-- I didn't).  I'm going to give an honest effort to ensure that's not the case now.

School ate me alive last semester.  It chewed me up into pulp and I felt beat down, defeated, and worthless.  I didn't realize how low I had actually gotten until I went home for Christmas and I felt happy, alive, and aware.  My eyes began to focus on things again instead of just glazing over.  I made eye contact with people.  I'd become so ashamed of myself and my lack of skills over the semester that I walked looking down, sharply and constantly, so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with anyone.  And in all honesty, I still do it.  But I'm aware of it now-- not that I really know what to do with it, but I'm aware.  I'm trying to set little goals to help the overwhelming feelings of... "overwhelmed-ness."

This week's goal:  When I find myself walking, sitting, etc, with my hands in a fist-- let them go.  Sometimes just making myself stretch my fingers out let's my whole body relax when I didn't know I was tense to begin with.

I'm not expecting this semester to be a walk in the park.  I'm not even expecting to enjoy it.  What I am expecting, however, is that even if my classes or my career path aren't fulfilling to me or if my head gets too in the way or any number of different distracting or uncomfortable things happen, I will find something stable, enjoyable, and fulfilling to do as well.  My self-required 4 hours a day of library time and hours of practice will not be my excuse not to have a life.  I'm still not sure I can say that I'm "ok with" not getting A's, but I'm willing to balance the enjoyment I get out of other things with the degree that I dislike spending 4 hours studying music history.

"Strum und Drang," translating to "Storm and Stress" is a movement of literature and music in Germany from about 1760-1780 where extremes of emotion were given free expression.  It's heard usually in the minor mode, deeply expressive, melancholy, and yet incredibly beautiful.  That's how I'm trying to think of this time in my life.  Not focusing on where it will go, what I'll do later, what all I've done-- just right here and now.

(A quote I find reassuring, by Ludwig von Beethoven: "I am not satisfied with the work I have done so far. From now on I intend to take a new way." It was after this statement when he wrote his Symphony No. 3, 'Eroica.'  There is hope for all!)

All this being said, I've found some really wonderful things in the last few weeks or so.  I've rediscovered a love for yoga that I can't quite describe, even to myself.  I can't imagine why I ever feel out of the practice at all.  More on this later.  I've also begun to bake bread.  Lots of bread.  Lots more on that, too.

All in all, in this moment right now, even though it's super late and I'm going to regret staying up so late writing when my 5:45 alarm goes off, I feel hopeful.  I'm happy, right in this second.  I have something to look forward to tomorrow (and I'm not thinking about all the things that I don't want to do tomorrow).  And so right now, I'm going to close my computer, pull the covers up, turn on a Friends dvd, and fall asleep-- hands unclenched.