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.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Pass the tissues...
I'm watching My Sister's Keeper. The other night I watched The Lovely Bones. What's next, you ask, Terms of Endearment? I think I'm going through the tear-jerkers because it gives me a reason to cry. I'm not sad, per se, but sometimes I get filled with this overwhelming emotion that I just can't name. I think it's a lot of stuff put together. I've felt every feeling in the book in the last weeks, and while none of them alone is too much, together they're, well, a lot. So these sad movies are sort of like and emotion patch of sorts. They serve the purpose of not only letting me see the movies of books I've really enjoyed, but also let's me cry for a determined amount of time for a specific purpose. And then I go to sleep.
Today was a hard day and I'm glad it's almost over.
And I have a mattress pad on my bed now, so hopefully I will get to sleep well. That is, if Boy Cat doesn't scream all night. I haven't slept more than a few consecutive hours since I've been here, partly because my bed hasn't been comfortable, and partly because the raging hormones coursing through my cat constantly remind him that there's some Single Ladies outside that need some kitty lovin.' But as of Thursday, all that will be over.
More mattress pad, less kitty balls. Everything is falling into place.
Today was a hard day and I'm glad it's almost over.
And I have a mattress pad on my bed now, so hopefully I will get to sleep well. That is, if Boy Cat doesn't scream all night. I haven't slept more than a few consecutive hours since I've been here, partly because my bed hasn't been comfortable, and partly because the raging hormones coursing through my cat constantly remind him that there's some Single Ladies outside that need some kitty lovin.' But as of Thursday, all that will be over.
More mattress pad, less kitty balls. Everything is falling into place.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Finally.
This is a little snippet from an email I received this morning from my bassoon professor. So, so, so different from what I've been trained to think.
"Auditions are a fact of every musician’s life - so embrace the discomfort, work as hard as you can to prepare and learn from the actual experience. Auditions are not judgments about you as a person, but judgments about a snapshot of your abilities at a given time."
"Auditions are a fact of every musician’s life - so embrace the discomfort, work as hard as you can to prepare and learn from the actual experience. Auditions are not judgments about you as a person, but judgments about a snapshot of your abilities at a given time."
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Off to a good start!
I'm currently sitting in a Starbucks in Bloomington, Indiana. This is the very same Starbucks that we visited during my audition weekend and I was too nervous and sick to my stomach to even consider ingesting any caffeine. Except now, I'm set up in a cozy booth with my laptop uploading pictures of my new apartment that's right down the road. I live here now. February 6th was the last time I was in this specific place and at that time I hadn't even considered that I might actually move here, that this would be the place I'd go to study and to write, that I would come to study at this place where I auditioned. It seems like just days ago and at the same time, I can hardly even remember it. And now, here I am I'm drinking my "decalf" Americano (with cream and two Splendas) out of a gigantic ceramic mug, easily 5-inches across. You get a 10% discount for ordering a "for here" cup and being environmentally friendly. Oh, college towns, how I've missed you.
Next up: entrance exams and auditions.
Oh, and apparently a bunch of people from the bassoon studio are training to run a half marathon in November. I guess I'll just go ahead and add that to my list of projects.
This should be fun :)
Next up: entrance exams and auditions.
Oh, and apparently a bunch of people from the bassoon studio are training to run a half marathon in November. I guess I'll just go ahead and add that to my list of projects.
This should be fun :)
Been there, have a million Red Coat Band T-Shirts, now what?
**Originally posted August 9, 2009**
I am asking myself this question fairly constantly, every single day (and sometimes at night). I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be by this time in my life, and I don't quite know what to make of it. I graduated from high school six years ago. I graduated from college eight months ago. And today, the most exciting thing I did was put clean sheets on the bed and ride my bike at the park. Now, let me assure you, this lack-of-a-job thing isn't for lack of wanting or trying. It's more of an our-economy-blows and a what-do-I-actually-want-to-do? type thing. Two separate problems, yes, but compounded they make the job hut quite a daunting task.
I'm not a big fan of being behind, not living up to expectations, aiming low, setting for mediocrity, etc, etc. I have never been comforted by being in the middle of a population of any sort, be it in musical talent, academic ability, you name it. Part of this is due, I believe, by the crazy standards of public education and the insane grading procedures used to define students, but that's really a topic for another post. But, knowing this about myself, I decided to do a little research and find out exactly what groups I DO fit into. Right now, more than ever in my life, I feel like I could be better described by a statistic in the economy section of USA Today than anything else. So, in rough numbers, here's a rough estimate of me. I am:
I am asking myself this question fairly constantly, every single day (and sometimes at night). I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be by this time in my life, and I don't quite know what to make of it. I graduated from high school six years ago. I graduated from college eight months ago. And today, the most exciting thing I did was put clean sheets on the bed and ride my bike at the park. Now, let me assure you, this lack-of-a-job thing isn't for lack of wanting or trying. It's more of an our-economy-blows and a what-do-I-actually-want-to-do? type thing. Two separate problems, yes, but compounded they make the job hut quite a daunting task.
I'm not a big fan of being behind, not living up to expectations, aiming low, setting for mediocrity, etc, etc. I have never been comforted by being in the middle of a population of any sort, be it in musical talent, academic ability, you name it. Part of this is due, I believe, by the crazy standards of public education and the insane grading procedures used to define students, but that's really a topic for another post. But, knowing this about myself, I decided to do a little research and find out exactly what groups I DO fit into. Right now, more than ever in my life, I feel like I could be better described by a statistic in the economy section of USA Today than anything else. So, in rough numbers, here's a rough estimate of me. I am:
- 1 of about 2 million recent college graduates who are without a job
- 1 of 253,000 living alumni of the University of Georgia
- 1 of 8,885 freshman accepted into UGA for fall of 2003 (6,102 actually went)
- Of those 6,102 freshman, I am part of the 75.8% of them who took (at least) 5 years to graduate
- 1 of 2,553 undergraduates to receive a diploma from UGA in December of 2008
- 1 of the 34-36% of Americans who consider themselves Democrats
- 1 of the 17% of Americans born with blue eyes
- 1 of the 56% of pet owners who own two cats (Mine are two of the 88.3 million owned cats in the United States)
- 1 of the 3.2% of people with type AB+ blood
There you have it. I'm inclined not to put a lot of stock into basing the definition of myself on national statistics, because according to what I could find, the most exciting and unique thing about me is my blood type, and let's face it, that's just sad. But I am the "Universal Donor" so I could save some of your lives with my uniqueness if need be, but still, that's not really enough for me hang onto.
So. What am I going to do now, you ask? I have applied for jobs until my eyes are crossed. There are some I really, really wanted and some where I was like, do I really want to spread asphalt on the highway? And I hear egg donors make good money, but I don't think I can handle knowing that I had a kid out there somewhere that I didn't know about. So, until I either hear back from, have an interview with, or get hired by some of my top picks, I'm going to settle for subbing in the public schools around my home. I'm going through some processes to figure out *what* exactly it is I want to do, and in the mean time, I'd like to do something besides watch all 10 seasons of FRIENDS in three weeks. Again.
Judging a book by its cover
**This was posted to a different blog that I started but never kept up with, but I thought it was interesting enough to repost here. Enjoy.**
I’ve heard this irritating saying for as long as I can remember. Most of the time, it’s referring to people who may be very nice but disguise their normality by wearing frumpy jumpers and hair bows or doctors’ offices filled with shabby furniture but house a brilliant physician. However, I’ve been thinking about this quite literally. Judging actual books by their actual covers.
I’ve had a long-standing dislike for books of the sleazy-romance-novel shape, the 8x5 shape that you’d find in grocery stores and airport shops. I’ve felt the same way for series and authors who’ve written tons of books. It’s always seemed to me that if an author can turn out so many books so quickly that surely there can’t be any real quality to them. I wouldn’t read popular books. I stayed away from Harry Potter until college and didn’t touch the Twilight books for quite some time. Even books about relationships or love or anything that I considered “sappy” were on my no-read list. I preferred to read the quality literature, the school reading list books, the serious and thought-provoking books.
I was a book snob.
But recently, in my vast amount of time I’ve had on my hands, I’ve chosen to read. I don’t know if it’s the time in my life or maybe a lack of concentration, but I’ve had no desire to read anything heavy. It took me nearly three weeks to read One Hundred Years of Solitude, and when I finished it, the thought of jumping right into Love in the Time of Cholera was just too depressing. So, I lowered my standards, I gave in to the pressure, and I read the Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum books. And I enjoyed the hell out of them. I’ve never laughed out loud so much while reading. Trust me, these are no works of Pulitzer Prize winning literature, but I do now realize that they serve a very real purpose. They are fun books. They make you laugh. You begin to really like the characters, to anticipate how they will react, and to recite things that they’ve said or did that had you in stitches.
I have read some books that are more along the lines of my usual style including A Small Rain by Madeline L’Engle, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (that I LOVED), Alas, Babylon, by Pat Frank, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
Other authors of multiple related books that I’ve recently read since overcoming my snobbishness are Marian Keyes, Emily Giffin, and Sophie Kinsella.
Heather Armstrong, author of What I learned from My Father (In Therapy), and It Sucked and then I Cried, and creator of the best blog in the world, dooce.com were quality reads, too.
So, overall, I’ve read thirty-three books this year. I’d be more than willing to recommend some more if anyone is interested, and of course, I’d love to hear about books that anyone else has to recommend.
I’ve heard this irritating saying for as long as I can remember. Most of the time, it’s referring to people who may be very nice but disguise their normality by wearing frumpy jumpers and hair bows or doctors’ offices filled with shabby furniture but house a brilliant physician. However, I’ve been thinking about this quite literally. Judging actual books by their actual covers.
I’ve had a long-standing dislike for books of the sleazy-romance-novel shape, the 8x5 shape that you’d find in grocery stores and airport shops. I’ve felt the same way for series and authors who’ve written tons of books. It’s always seemed to me that if an author can turn out so many books so quickly that surely there can’t be any real quality to them. I wouldn’t read popular books. I stayed away from Harry Potter until college and didn’t touch the Twilight books for quite some time. Even books about relationships or love or anything that I considered “sappy” were on my no-read list. I preferred to read the quality literature, the school reading list books, the serious and thought-provoking books.
I was a book snob.
But recently, in my vast amount of time I’ve had on my hands, I’ve chosen to read. I don’t know if it’s the time in my life or maybe a lack of concentration, but I’ve had no desire to read anything heavy. It took me nearly three weeks to read One Hundred Years of Solitude, and when I finished it, the thought of jumping right into Love in the Time of Cholera was just too depressing. So, I lowered my standards, I gave in to the pressure, and I read the Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum books. And I enjoyed the hell out of them. I’ve never laughed out loud so much while reading. Trust me, these are no works of Pulitzer Prize winning literature, but I do now realize that they serve a very real purpose. They are fun books. They make you laugh. You begin to really like the characters, to anticipate how they will react, and to recite things that they’ve said or did that had you in stitches.
The following is happening after Stephanie Plum, a less-than-stellar bail bonds agent and her sidekick, Lula, a plus-sized ex-ho, were shot at by bad guys whom they witnessed murdering a famous Food Network Chef.
The car turned left onto Olden, and I was prevented from following by heavy traffic.And it goes on until Lula is safely back inside the car after, well, I’ll let you read that part. So as you can see, they’re sort of silly but totally worth the laugh. Listening to them on CD is good, too. As of right now, there are fifteen Stephanie Plum books, so they can keep you occupied for quite a while.
“Get back into the car,” I said to Lula. “I’ve lost them.”
“I can’t bet back,” Lula said. “I’m stuck.”
I looked over my shoulder at Lula. All I could see was bright yellow ass. The rest of her was out the window.
I checked her out in my side mirror and saw that not only was she stuck, but her boobs had fallen out of the scoop-neck sweater and were blowing in the wind. I turned onto a side street and pulled to the curb to take a look. By the time I got out of the care, I was laughing so hard tears were rolling down my cheeks and I could hardly see.
“I don’t see where this is so funny,” Lula said. “Get me out of the window. I’m about freezing my nipples off. It’s not like it’s summer or somethin’.”
Short of lubing Lula up with goose grease, I didn’t know where to begin.
I have read some books that are more along the lines of my usual style including A Small Rain by Madeline L’Engle, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (that I LOVED), Alas, Babylon, by Pat Frank, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.
Other authors of multiple related books that I’ve recently read since overcoming my snobbishness are Marian Keyes, Emily Giffin, and Sophie Kinsella.
Heather Armstrong, author of What I learned from My Father (In Therapy), and It Sucked and then I Cried, and creator of the best blog in the world, dooce.com were quality reads, too.
So, overall, I’ve read thirty-three books this year. I’d be more than willing to recommend some more if anyone is interested, and of course, I’d love to hear about books that anyone else has to recommend.