Clara de Corno

This is Cool

2009-05-25T15:50:00.002-05:00

If you see her spinning to the right, you're right brain is working. If to the left, your left brain. If you can see her spinning in one direction and then the other, you have an IQ of over 160.

Ambiguous Thoughts Inspired by a Particular Event

2009-04-22T21:26:00.005-05:00

Yesterday afternoon we were playing La Boutique Fantasque (a cool piece by Respighi/Rossini). And then the lights went out!

It was a nice moment. Especially because we had just arrived at this unison descending chromatic passage, and when the lights went out everyone just sort of extended it, kept going down in half steps, an instinctual musical response to the subito darkness. Aside from just being really funny (because music can be that, you know), it got me thinking. 80+ people from all kinds of backgrounds thrown together on a stage, and in that moment the majority of them made the same choice.

So, the moral of the story? We're all in this together. Like it or not, we are. If the basses miss their entrance, it's part of what I'm doing. If I blow a lick, it matters to the other 80+. And all the good things, which is actually most of what we're putting out, matter for everyone too. It's a nice feeling. And it also can be hard, and fucking scary.

Sometimes my friends ask me why musicians are "so crazy." I think it's because we're so vulnerable. So intimate. So together. You sit down, squeak out notes, and put yourself out there. It's a nice feeling. And hard. And fucking scary.

But those are the worthy things. To look someone in the eyes and tell them the truth, even if they don't want to hear it. To show up, even though you're dreading it all day. To stay calm, and trust, and stick to who you know yourself to be and know what you want, and remember that it will all be alright. To keep your mouth shut when it's the right thing to do. To see the bright side. To give or take space. To reach deep down and find the guts to do it. It's hard and it's exhilarating.

Everyone knows what I'm talking about- it's different for everyone, different specifics, but then it's the same. We're all in this together.

I'm working through some stuff lately, so please excuse the rambling. But it's worth it, and I've always enjoyed work, so it's not so bad. So I'm going to keep showing up, keep trusting, and keep reaching.

More to come...

A Dream Come True

2009-04-12T00:45:00.005-05:00

Last night my new landlord, AC, had a chamber music party. I've always wanted to have a chamber music party, but I've been waiting until I own a house with a piano. Since we all know that's not going to happen for a long time, I've done the next best thing--moved into a house with a piano. With a woman who gives chamber music parties.

For those of you who don't know, a chamber music party is just what it sounds like: food, wine, and people sight-reading chamber music. Amazing.

I got to play horn/bassoon duets, Jan Bach's 4 2-Bit Contraptions for flute and horn, an old friend's arrangement of the three Gershwin Piano Preludes for horn and piano, and some beginner jazz duets with a neighbor who started playing the trumpet two years ago. Cool.

It took a lot of effort to get back for the party. I woke up yesterday morning in Texcoco, the hometown of my bf. To get back to Guanajuato, JCHD drove me to the bus station in Texcoco, where I took a bus to the bus station in Mexico City, where I took a bus to Guanajuato, where I took a bus downtown, where I took a taxi home. I walked in around 9 and I couldn't really feel my lips, but I figured they'd come through eventually. I splashed some water on my face, changed shirts, and ran upstairs to a lovely atmosphere of colleagues and acquaintances singing along to a flutist playing famous arias.

As the evening progressed I heard some Dvorak, some Schumann, some Vivaldi, some Puccini and some jazz songs (Gerswhin, maybe? Not sure, even though I could sing along). But mostly I heard soul. I heard real phrases and risks. Yeah I heard some wrong notes and wrong rhythms but I heard smiles and tears, tenderness and passion, suspense and resolution. I heard and felt community and a shared love of self-expression through art. I heard what music is all about for me.

It was important for me to get back and proved to be well worth all six legs of the journey. And I think it's important to focus on these sorts of things lately, to remind myself to focus on the good stuff. Unfortunately in the profession of music there are a lot of things that just get in the way- some of which we must not avoid (auditions) and some of which we must avoid (gossip) in order to continue in the field. But every musical experience can be about the good stuff, if we buckle down, get focused, and let it be.

So, this is my spring break resolution. In the practice room, in the section, at the brass quintet gig, behind the screen- focus on the good stuff. Because there's enough of it to go around.

And thank you, AC, for your chamber music party, at which there was plenty.

The Top 7 Things Not To Do If You Want a Successful Blog Post

2009-04-07T22:20:00.003-05:00

1) Don't try to multi-task. You think that episode of 30 Rock playing in the background via surfthechannel.com won't distract you, but it will. You'll have no original ideas, save the post to a draft, and then feel bad later as you erase it.
2) Don't make promises. If you want to write, you'll write. If you won't, you won't. Guilt has no place in blog-land.
3) If you spend 6 weeks in another country and have this cool idea about changing the color/language scheme on your blog to reflect that, and then post a lot about all the amazing revelations you're having, don't not do it. It would have been cool. Oh well, next time, sigh...
4) Don't fall in love with a guy who a) doesn't have internet in his apartment, b) suggests taking a walk and seeing what's going on when you're bored, and c) doesn't know what a blog is. I do, however, recommend the former in terms of raising your quality of life. Just not your quality of blog.
5) Don't insist on being profound. Or minimum 500 words. Or witty. Or anything. Just blog it!
6) Don't name a post The Top " ." You'll always come up one short.

It's All About Balance

2008-09-25T15:23:00.002-05:00

We are lucky to have this conductor with us this week. He really is outstanding and I'm very much enjoying everything I'm learning. I'm also enjoying that he's really dealing with problems our orchestra has, in practical and effective ways. For example, during the second rehearsal he was asking for more third and fourth horn. He asked a few times and then he went on break early to move the sounds shells to actually close the right side of the stage. Simple genius! We actually were playing quite loud, but to no avail since all the sound was going straight out the back door off stage right.

Anyway, something I've noticed, besides his never wavering commitment to musicality, incredibly clear stick technique, overall enjoyable rehearsal demeanor, and bizarre haircut, is that he mostly talks about balance. More of this, less there, because of this. Bring out this, accompany this, background, foreground. It makes sense- really it should be one of the only responsibilities of the conductor, if everyone else is doing their job well. After all, he/she hears more of the full package then any one of us possibly can. Unfortunately, the conductor often starts trying to do everyone else's job for them, and it never works.

OK, back to the positive spin. So, all this attention to balance is making me think about bigger-picture balance. And how I think that might be the secret to it all.

Balance! Work and play. Friends and boyfriends. Alone and together. Internet and nature. Verbal communication and silent understanding. Plans and spontaneity. Activity and rest. Career and family. Classical music and pop music. Getting up early to go running and staying up late to go dancing. Health food and junk food.

OK, those last three might just be justifications, but maybe not. Too much of anything is simply that, too much. The trumpets can sound fantastic, but if they're too loud, it doesn't matter. You can have a great boyfriend (who happens to play the trumpet) but if you spend too much time with him, it doesn't matter. You can be really organized, but if it's too extreme, it doesn't matter. I'm working these things out as I go.

Now, the secret may be balance, but the trick is finding it. That part I still haven't figured out.

I guess I'm going to need a lot more good conductors around to help me with that one...

It's Easy to Start Taking Things for Granted, Like Your Middle Name

2008-09-21T21:07:00.005-05:00

As I was walking home today, I realized that after a measley six months in this place, I'm already starting to take it for granted. Sometimes I forget that I live in a place people come from all over the world to visit. But then I see a couple with matching tourist shoes (you know what I mean, right?), and it snaps me out of it.

That's what did it this afternoon, and the rest of my walk home was different- I appreciated the artists in front of the temple and the clown on the steps of the theater and the families eating together and the people oohing and aahing over the plaza I walk through every day. It's a nice reminder.

A lot of things have been happening in my life lately that make me appreciate the things I have usually taken for granted. For instance, I've been to the doctor probably 10 times this month. Nothing too serious, but it still makes me appreciate all the health I do have, as I contemplate doing leg lifts every morning and night for the rest of my life to keep my bad knee good, what migraine pills I have to always have in my purse because this is a new lovely little addition to my life, and that I just have to drink more water, as every doctor from head to knee mentions. But other than that every thing's fine, and I'm appreciative.

I had a cast on for ten days, and boy, when that comes off, you sure are grateful for the ability to walk again.

And then I was cleaning my room and getting ready for "work" by listening to a recording of the pieces we're playing next week. And the music is so beautiful and I was just overwhelmed with the realization is that it's part of my JOB to listen to beautiful music on a Sunday evening. That is not overlook-able- I refuse to ever take that for granted.

I'm also in a real relationship for maybe the first time in my life, and I would say one of the main differences between this and a fling is that there are ups and downs. (hence the rollercoaster comment, for those of you that are stalking me on more than one internet medium.) In a fling there are no downs, once it's down it just ends. Hence a fling having no substance and me being sick of them. The downs in this, and working them out, make me appreciate the ups, and they make the ups better, really. So, I'm feeling pretty darn lucky for my sweeeeet novio.

I just realized that maybe I'm anticipating Thanksgiving (my most homesick holiday) and I'm reminded of my latest self-resolution (besides drink more water)- whenever I'm homesick, I just practice. I figure, I left the States to do all this stuff on horn, so if I'm missing my family, I need to take advantage and do what I came here to do. Which makes me grateful to have a job I really love- playing great music every day. And grateful for the opportunities I get down here (I get to play a concerto with a real orchestra in November!!)

So, when this label on my knee x-ray came along, it was just the icing on the cake. Because really, how often do you get to feel especially grateful for your middle name (mine is Mayhew)?

Been Missing My Blog? Oh, Grow Up.

2008-09-08T12:37:00.009-05:00

This quote was just passed to me:

"Maturity is the ability to hold a contradiction."

Behold the following:

A: Writing, and sharing my writing, is really fun, important, fulfilling and valuable to me.
B: I haven't posted on my blog in over six months.

Accept the past. I'm back now.

As compensation, I'll give you the snippets I have almost posted, but never came to fruition, recently.

September 8th:

"Last night I was practicing the 3rd horn part to Borodin's Polovetsian Dances (yeah, if you think that piece is all offbeats for the horns, think again before you show up to the first rehearsal) and something snapped.

I felt the desire to post on my blog.

Actually, more than that. I not only felt the desire (which I've actually felt multiple times in the past 6-month drought, to your great relief or disappointment, depending on what kind of person you are.) I guess it snapped and stuck, because I'm actually writing and I'm actually going to post this.

I know you can hardly believe it- you probably think I'm just leading you on..."

(fizzle)

September 3rd:

"Spanish Classes: Unit #1,463: Knee Vocabulary"

(only got as far on the title as that one)

A while back...when I thought I might salvage it without too much notice:

"My Relationship with my Blog

Let's face it, it's been suffering significantly. Or, to put it more diplomatically, it's been changing."

Actually there were many more but I deleted them in a obsessive cleaning frenzy.

I'll admit, it's a little tough for me to come crawling back. But I'm hoping you'll embrace me with open arms. And you can count on me to post at least once a week-I'm recommitting.

Behold this, too:

A: This post is a bit childish and trivial.
B: It's not.

The Weirdest Gig Ever?

2008-04-06T10:32:00.002-05:00

There's a bit of competition for this title, but I think last Saturday wins it thus far in my life as a musician.

We "performed" for about an hour at the most expensive wedding reception I've ever seen, which took place in La Mina de Guadalupe. Some of the selections, orchestrated for horn, trumpet, flute, oboe, strings, and DRUM MACHINE included:

"Umbrella"-Rihanna
"Mr. Jones"-Counting Crow
"Live Forever"-Oasis

Nevertheless, I learned a few important lessons.

**Sight reading rhythms is not easier when you know all the words to the song.
**When it comes down to it, most pop songs consist of very similar elements.
**These elements should not include French horns carrying the melody.

And, finally...

**I will NEVER have this kind of music at my wedding!

This May Just Be My Greatest Accomplishment of the Last 15 Years

2008-04-05T14:21:00.003-06:00

Magical Mexico City Tour

2008-03-25T11:16:00.009-06:00

I spent last week exploring Mexico City and some particularly beautiful nearby places.

This was my view of the Zocalo from my hostel room.

The Zocalo of Mexico City is a magical experience I got to repeat five times. La Catedral Metropolitana, El Palacio del Gobierno with the amazing Diego Rivera Murals, the Aztec Ruins, the street performers, and the people, oh the people--tons and tons of people. Unbeknownst to me, everything shuts down pretty early and it's a bit dangerous around there at night (different than the centros of most Mexican cities) but during the day, it's fantastic.

I reunited with a friend from school in the "Zona Rosa."

As always, a taste of past life makes me hyper-conscious of a) how much not just time, but life, has passed, and b) how much I've changed. Getting a shot of Wisconsin in the midst of Mexico City was a good juxtaposition of me-past and me-present (it's all about me after all, right?) But, aside from the extensive self-analysis, it was great to see RS and get his take on his experiences since school, and meet his traveling partner and here about his experiences living in India and Pakistan!

The next day, I spent a whopping 3.5 hours in a bank trying to make an international transfer from Mexico to Norway. Way to go HSBC. The thing is, Mexico City is actually pretty efficient and fast-paced. Unfortunately, the transfer had to be approved by the branch in Yucatan since I haven't changed my address and well...este...five phone calls, two emails, and three and half hours later they finally came through. No magic there.

Not my preferred way to spend my first morning in DF, but it was compensated by spending the afternoon "dando una vuelta" (going for a drive?) with my super-cool horn playin' friend JCQM. Mexico City is like 350 worlds in one- you can go from beautiful university campus to neighborhood where the economy is based on stolen car parts in a matter of minutes. I enjoyed getting the world-wide tour.

EC showed up Tuesday evening and we did some restaurant hopping as we caught up on the changes of the last year--lots of different experiences, lots learned, lots to talk about.

Wednesday was market day which meant a large amount of incredible sights (huitlacoche, pictured above), cheap food (the cake made out of cookies "takes the cake") , and Mexican men shouting "Guera (white girl)!" repeatedly at the top of their lungs. My favorite were the garlic stands (piles and piles of all types of garlic-you could smell it long before you could see it, of course) and the brujería (witch magic) stands with animal legs and reptile skeletons and various skulls just hanging there. When we asked what they were for, our friendly brujería salesman responded, "Que traigan galanes (to bring attractive men)" with a smirk. It was an ideal afternoon, well worth the sunburn and some sore feet.

We took off for Angangueo around 4 in the afternoon in order to visit the butterfly sanctuary the following day. Arriving around 8:30 we dropped off our things and headed towards the fairy-tale-like food stands by the cathedral. Michoacan seems to be big on sweets- candied figs, peaches, pumpkin, guayaba, and who knows what else. They eat the super sweet treasures on bread, like a candy sandwich! We passed on the candied fruit, and went instead for "hotcakes" with cajeta (check it out EC-heh heh) and fried plantains with canned peaches, cream and jam.

We shivered back to the posada and dove under the covers in attempts to get some rest before our trip the next day. That may be the coldest I've ever been in Mexico!

The next morning we caught a bus up the mountain, literally. EC and I have ridden a lot of buses in our time in Mexico, and neither of us had ever quite had an experience like this one. Creeping along the side of a cliff, going around curves and enduring some significant humps in the road on the rickety old bus was an adventure, to be sure. The driver and his near-by assistant didn't seem too worried though- they traded places at one point without even slowing down! Once the bus dropped us off we were escorted up another road by an elderly gentleman, and introduced to the couple that would end up being our excursion companions (words can't describe these characters-I'll leave that for EC to chuckle about on her own).

I don't know which was more surreal, the massive amount of butterflies (yes, all that "stuff" is butterflies!) or turning the corner at the beginning of the trip and coming upon a full soccer game (11 on 11) on a sort of plateau in the middle of nowhere at 8:30 in the morning. I wanted to join in, but resisted and sat down for some blue corn sopes and quesadillas instead. Then we headed into the woods to see the butterflies. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very blog-friendly experience, as the feel of the air, the view of the layers of mountains, the sound of the earth underfoot, the sound of the butterflies flapping their wings, the height of the trees, the peacefulness, doesn't transfer so well to my virtual explanation. Needless to say, it was magical.

We explored the woods a bit, kept our heads tilted to the sky to see the huge amounts of huddles of butterflies hanging on the branches, still sleeping in the shade. As the sun came over the hillside they woke up little by little, and we ended the visit sitting on the open part of the mountain chatting and watching the butterflies emerge, more and more, until they were flying all around us.

For more explanation, check out the Journey North website.

We got back to the soccer game (now substantially less active) and had some more quesadillas and some seriously magic mamey ice cream, then back to the bus-stop, where we caught a taxi to take us back down. Then a bus back to Mexico City...and we left the whole thing behind like a dream.

Friday we spent in two more enchanted places in DF: Museo Dolores Olmedo and Coyoacan. The museum had some fantastic pieces of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, plus a visiting exhibit from the Walker in Minneapolis! But the estate in which the museum was created was the real treasure. And the peacocks. Tons of peacocks. And peacocks are cool. Coyoacan was mostly about the churros, clowns, coffee (bad as it was) and crafts. Too full of people (due to some festival because of vacation) to really enjoy, but I got enough of a sense to know that I'll be back.

That night we went dancing with the aforementioned JCQM. I think the other girls in the hostel were jealous when they saw me put my sparkly shoes on... "Are you going out? Where? How? Is it dangerous? Where could we go?" I had to admit that I wouldn't go out in Mexico City without a male friend from there with a car. Then I had to apologize that I couldn't invite them along. I'm thinking of suggesting to my friend that maybe he could make some extra cash by just escorting nice white girls from the hostel out dancing on Friday nights. But I guess it doesn't really work that way.

We didn't do much dancing, but the few times we did were successful, and a great time was had by all. Especially when we arrived at the totally crowded "Chupacabra" taco stand under a bridge- who knew that was the place to be at 2 in the morning in Mexico City.

Saturday morning we ate at the famous Cafe de Tacuba (the atmosphere better than the food- just like Lonely Planet said!!) and said our goodbyes. Hopefully I'll see EC on this side of Mexico City sooner rather than later! I headed off by myself to Texcoco, a short bus ride southeast of the city.

JCHD picked me up at the bus station and we headed to his native pueblo- Santa Cantarina del Monte. It's true that my previous experience in Texcoco was not exactly positive. On the way to the pueblo I began to change my mind, but I couldn't have prepared myself for the magic in store. We arrived at NC's house (the location of the party which got me there in the first place) a little earlier than expected (or only 45 minutes after the time he told us to get there, instead of an hour and a half) so JCHD took me to visit "the water source." I was confused for most of this journey- as we drove through some pretty rocky terrain, and then walked through rockier, he kept talking about "tubing the water" and being nervous that we were going to get wet. I figured it was just a language problem so after asking a bunch of questions and still not understanding, I went back to my standard smile and nod.

We hiked through the forest- across a little stream, around the kids having a leaf fight and rolling in the dirt, past various families that were picnicking out there, and even by a little snack stand someone had set up in the middle of nowhere (sooo Mexico!) and finally arrived at this huge cliff, fenced off, with water running down it's side. Things began to be clear- in a country where nobody drinks the tap water, people in this pueblo DO, because it comes straight from this absolutely pristine source. Magic. And beautiful.

We walked slowly back, appreciating the quiet of the forest. I still didn't understand why we were going to get wet (all the water was basically contained) as JCHD maintained, but I just went with it (a skill I've developed in the past few years, in case you hadn't noticed). Back to the car, back to the road, no getting wet. Then we came driving around the corner, and I saw up ahead 4 little boys, eyes sparkling, grinning ear to ear, holding buckets and poised. JCHD yells, "Get the windows up" and we do just in time, before they throw the buckets of dirty water (this from a not pristine source) all over the car. Everyone in sight was laughing to tears- who knows why, I guess it's just the simple pleasures and things that make you feel like your four again that really get to you. The boys ran back for refills and chased after us again while I realized that this was in fact a long standing tradition and my friend had probably been one of the little boys twenty years ago.

Texcoco and surrounding pueblos is known for being the birthplace of more musicians, especially brass players, than probably any other one place in Mexico. I'm still not sure why (could it be the water?) but I love that it's so. N and J described to me how when they were growing up everyone would practice outside their houses in the evenings, the sounds of trumpet, clarinet, horn, trombone, oboe, etc. mixing and echoing through the hills. A few hours into the party we heard a trumpet sound come from the other room. Most everyone present being a musician, conversation ceased and someone went to find the source. Shortly thereafter emerged a sweet little 6-yr old boy, holding a small bugle or something. He proceeded to play a C-major scale, up and down, in tune, with a quite desirable sound. Magic.

The final uncanny event of the trip was la Feria del Caballo, which we went to after the party. Imagine a state fair, crowded beyond belief, and 100 bandas. In case you don't know what a banda is- here's an example. And yes, I said 100. The sea of people separates them, and as I understand it, you just stand right in front of the one you paid to hear a song from, so they sort of drown out all the ones nearby. The singer is helped by everyone singing along (no amplification) and well, there you go. As someone said to me once- Mexico is probably the only country where it's actually cool to play the clarinet or the tuba. I guess I understand now how these guys get so good at playing loud and high...

Well, that was long, but there you have it. Central Mexico is a completely different world than Yucatan (food, music, culture, people, climate, and more) and I think I like it more!

P.S. As soon as EC sends me more pics, I'll add more respective photos.

KERMESS

2008-03-14T18:35:00.004-06:00

Kindness abound. On this religious day (this past Friday- to be honest, still not entirely sure the name of the actual holiday, there's so many around here this time of year I can't keep track of all the names), mines all over the state open their doors to the public, putting on a fantastic feast called a "kermess" for whoever shows up, totally free of charge.

Either the food was really amazing or I was overly-influenced by the ambience. Both probably. Tacos (nopales con camarones my favorite), chile rellenos, chile-covered mangos on a stick, piles and piles of fruit, eight flavors of ice cream, cocktail de camaron, tacos dorados topped with a fantastic salsa, elotes, and gallons and gallons of agua de sabores.

Reason enough to go was just to see the mine, a world in itself. We ate the shrimp cocktail sitting on the rail cars--shortly after some miners came to ride them down the track and into the mine- another day's work, after all. 60% of Guanajuatenses still work in the mining industry.

Memories work in strange ways. This day will stay with me forever- the drive through the hills to arrive at "Cubo", the tiny mining town, eating a tamarindo popsicle while sitting on a see-saw and chatting with RA waiting for the feast to begin, exploring the area while the mass finished, finding the only other Americans in attendance and realizing we were both UW-Madison grads, standing in long lines for food, but enjoying the process, since once you got through the first line, during the consecutive line you could eat the food from the previous, enjoying the ride back--feeling a satisfied exhaustion from having a Friday different than any other Friday I've ever experienced.

Every time I think I'm ready for the next phase of my life, I experience something like this which just makes me feel like I'm not done with Mexico yet. ?!?

So how much more time do I need? Will I ever be able to move on without some sad emotions (I highly doubt it).

So then I Wikipedia-ed this strange strange word, in hopes of some Internet wisdom, and this is the best they could do. Thanks Wikipedia.

And Then There's This...

2008-03-13T16:44:00.002-06:00

Goodbye to All That #2

...I'll admit I'm back to being undecided. I guess it doesn't really matter and the truth is it will be decided for me. But I'd like to just know what I think. Aaaacckkk!

Clap Your Hands, Shuffle Your Feet

2008-03-12T17:43:00.002-06:00

I took in a notable performance last night.

First, it was at a bar.
Second, it was a composition by Hindemith.
Third, it was for double bass and clarinet.
Fourth, it was fantastic.

I have a suspicion these elements do not often convene.

As I understand it, Hindemith wrote the piece for either him and his wife or someone and his wife (at that moment the Spanish didn't get through) who had taken up the clarinet and the bass, respectively, as secondary instruments. The music has absolutely no markings in it, just notes. And it's intended to be played at vacation-time.

I was impressed with the freedom with which the performers played. They were very present, they were having fun. Taking risks and playing the music for the first time and the last time. Not surprisingly, they brought the audience right along with them. Laughter, quiet, and applause.

Or not.

The work consisted of five or six movements. After some of the movements, the audience clapped, after some of them, they didn't. After one of the movements, half the audience clapped.

I liked that. It seemed that people clapped when it felt right, when they wanted to clap, and didn't when they would rather just have that last note linger a bit longer. As the performers exhibited and expressed their freedom, they allowed the audience to do the same.

So what's the deal with clapping?

I won't deny that when an audience claps after the first movement of a symphony a wash of judgement flows through me. But then, I think, on the other hand, why the hell not? I remember reading an article by an "uneducated' classical music enthusiast about his experience of a performance of Beethoven's 3rd Symphony. A talented writer, he described the symphony vividly, coupling the path of the music with his personal experience of listening. He took you along for the ride and then, when it was all over (just the first movement), you were convinced you yourself would have applauded, as he did in the concert hall, only to receive a bunch of shhhs! and awkward looks.

The guy has a pretty good point- if you aren't naturally moved to applaud at the end of the first movement of the Eroica Symphony, there's something wrong with you or the orchestra that's playing it. (But, then again, what's so natural about clapping anyway? More often than not, when I'm participating in applause, I end up thinking about what a strange ritual it is and wonder what other life forms would think of us...)

The performance was great- rambunctious and humorous and touching and soothing and silly and solid. Afterwards a bunch of the musicians in the audience were talking about pieces we could play in this space- a cafe/bar owned by one of the cellists in the orchestra. It seems that Tuesday nights are a sort of open mike night to often include instrumentalists and their classical music. I'm still figuring this whole Guanajuato-thing out but it also seems that this sort of event is pretty standard (so how cool is that?)

I left at 1 am with some new friends, a lot of inspiration, and two plans for pieces to perform soon!

So what's the deal with feet-shuffling?

All of you musicians know what I'm talking about- the customary way to show your approval or admiration or whatever while you are sitting in the ensemble with someone. Sometimes it means shuffle so the sshhhsshhh sound carries to the ears of the intended recipient, but now it's turned into tapping the knee, bouncing the knee, sticking out the leg, sticking out both legs, waving a toe, who knows.

Now, those of you that have ever played with me know I was a big foot shuffler. Kind of cheerleader like. I like to be positive, I like to tell people I like how they play. But I'm telling you, I'm giving it up. It's just getting out of hand. I can't keep up. The more I play the more I hear more playing that I like. If I wiggled a toe for every time I heard something I liked in this orchestra I wouldn't be able to focus enough to play my own part.

And then, there's the foot-shuffle dilemmas.

Dilemma #1: Principal horn plays great solo at the first rehearsal. You give them a kick in the air. Conductor stops and goes back a ways, causing horn solo to repeat. Principal horn player plays great again. Do you have to do the kick again? Will they take it the wrong way if you don't?

Dilemma #2: You went for a really long run the night before and your quads are in significant pain- you just can't quite get the foot up there. Does this warrant an explanation to your section? "I still think you play great, it's just that..." Once you do the kick, are you expected to do it every day? What's the etiquette for kick follow-through?

Dilemma #3: Now you're in the performance. Should you do the kick in performance? Only in performance? Never in performance? Will it be a good way to say "way to go" before you get to the end or will it be a distraction? Will anyone in the audience wonder why the horn section looks like wanna-be can-can dancers?

Dilemma #4: Guy sitting next to you nails particularly hard lick. Out goes the foot. Next day, guy sitting next to you bombs particularly hard lick. What then? Foot stays in- you seem a little critical. Foot goes out- fake. What's the foot signal for- "you're great, don't sweat it, it'll be fine at the show"?

The point is, I'm giving it up. SW, clarinetist of the Lyric Opera of Chicago, and on faculty at this which I attended this summer, talked about this. I liked what she said, basically, that she appreciates someone taking a few seconds to go up to her and commend her much more than any sort of foot-shenanigans. I agree, and it wouldn't hurt us to have another pretext for live interaction.

So I'm officially changing a few habits (take this as a harbinger of my next post...hint hint, can you guess?!?!).

Clap your heart out. Or don't. But don't expect to see me moving my feet.

A Reminder About Success

2008-03-09T23:14:00.002-06:00

To laugh often and love much
To win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children
To earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends
To appreciate beauty
To find the best in others
To give of one's self
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived
This is to have succeeded.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

This Book is Filled to the Brim

2008-03-07T13:27:00.002-06:00

Look out, this is an infomercial.

I just finished reading The Perfect Wrong Note: Learning to Trust Your Musical Self by William Westney. It is such an amazing book on so many levels that I feel like it has contributed not only to my practice room behavior, but also my mental state while performing, my style of teaching, the way I listen to other players, and my overall approach to life. All of this in just a few weeks. I plan on reading it, or pages from it, once every couple of months for many, many years.

When I read a book I dog-ear the pages that hold something I want to remember, something profound, something I want to share, something I want to write down and put in a place I will often see. I know this practice offends some book-lovers out there, but it's what I do. Don't worry, if you lend me a book I won't do it to your book.

This book has basically doubled in width due to all the dog-ear-ing.

I'm just going to highlight a few, and ramble about what they encourage me to think about.

"...the reason so many of us lose our bearings about practicing early in life is that we practice in living rooms with other family members in earshot--and healthy practice would simply sound too obnoxious, intrusive, repetitious, and unmusical for others to hear without annoyance...most of us would practice correctly just by instinct if we weren't in living rooms..."

In junior high I practiced piano in the living room while my mom was making dinner. In high school it was the horn (and wherever you practice the horn, people are going to hear you). Sometimes I would practice in the music wing at my high school. In college, the practice rooms in the Humanities building. Four years, four hours a day, virtually every day. Summer festivals, practice areas for all participants. Yucatan, my house that I shared with two co-workers. Now, the room I rent where co-workers often hang out.

Basically, I’ve spent my entire life practicing within ear shot of people whose opinion I value.

This fact in itself is not particularly important. The realization that I’ve spent my entire life practicing while thinking about what other people think is priceless. First of all, it’s taken over a significant portion of my brain. Secondly, it puts me in an automatic state when I pick up the horn- holding horn, thinking about what other people think. Thirdly, it’s an absolute waste of mental energy.

Letting this go gives me an incredible sense of freedom. Of course it’s a process and a challenge to face every day. But even considering letting it go opens doors.

"Again the performer is gently reminded to stop trying to control the outcome, but to stay flexible and focus instead on how the moment actually feels."

I performed Tchaikovsky’s Second Symphony every night this week. That is a difficult task in its own right- the music kind of disappears and it becomes a series of notes. Of course the best is to continue to find the music, but sometimes you just can’t. And you begin to feel like you are playing accuracy exercises, and you can’t figure out why there is an audience present.

What I discovered in this process is that playing the horn is just inhaling and exhaling with purpose. I’ve played for long enough to understand what produces and what doesn’t. So I began focusing on just inhaling and exhaling. Much like in yoga, when you really focus on the breath, you find a very pleasant space in which to exist. In which to play.

I can be a control-freak. I’m interested in letting that part of my personality slide, at least while I’m playing.

"It would help tremendously if book-smart people thought of music more as a sport and less as an intellectual activity, but this is often not the case."

I have a beginning horn student for the first time ever. She is nineteen years old. She’s smart.

In her lesson last week she had a lot of trouble getting the notes out. Not sure what to do myself, I trusted a hunch, and ended up telling her to just allow her body to find the notes. I played with her. I told her to ignore her mind. I reminded her that her mind knows way less than her body.

As I told her these things, I realized that I was telling them to myself. Being smart, while beneficial to one’s experience of life, is not actually an asset in the performance of music. OK, that’s not entirely true, it helps sometimes. But more often than not, it simply gets in the way.

"Perfectionist expectations lead to detachment from one’s body…"

This excerpt comes from the chapter that seemed, for me, to be all about me.

This was nice for a few reasons. First, there’s no one I’d rather read about than myself. (Ha ha.) Second, it helps me get over myself and realize I am not the only one with these characteristics. Third, the suggestions are incredibly useful for, well, ME.

"When the good student chooses the honest path, free of perfectionism and faking, music study becomes something refreshingly new: a calm oasis of self-acceptance for those who are so used to driving themselves and trying to please others."

What if every time I practice, every time I play, it can be an exploration, not an ultimatum?

"One thing is for sure: to get up onstage and perform is to plunge oneself instantly into living in the moment."

This is one of the top three things I love about playing music. And yet I forget about it, especially when I’m nervous. Or am I nervous because I forgot about it?

"To accept responsibility, to achieve and maintain total self-honesty, requires mental energy, focus, and—above all—a kind of courage."

This is a good reminder that everyone, from your beginning student in their lesson to the soloist of the week to the guy sitting next to you, deserves respect for just doing it. For putting themselves out there, no matter the result.

"…the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and always has been a principal appetite of the soul… (Aldous Huxley)"

This is, I think, what we’re seeking. And what audiences are seeking. And yet we can’t demand it, can’t expect it, can’t be disappointed if we don’t get it, and can’t give up on it. We can just pursue it, and enjoy the pursuit. Often, we will achieve it.

I would highly recommend that all performers, music students, teachers, amateurs, professionals, and enthusiasts read this book. I hope that my generation of musicians can approach things with more of this mentality, for our own health and well-being, and for the continued improvement of the experience and quality of music-making.

For me, this book was a discovery. I’m just at the beginning of the whole thing. I’m freshly inspired and excited about practicing and I don’t want to hoard this experience.

Check it out! (And let me know what you think.)

This My New Theme Song

2008-03-02T15:07:00.002-06:00

I'm on the fourth straight hour of being online today. The end is not in sight.

This is getting insane.

And I love this song.

Now if only I could find a hat like that...

There's a First Time in a Long Time for Everything

2008-03-01T11:20:00.008-06:00

Last night, for the first time in a looooong time, I played first horn in a concert in a real orchestra.

It was just this tiny little overture ("La Primavera" Overture by "the Mexican Bellini" Beristáin)--I really hardly have the right to be blogging about it, but nevertheless, here I am.

It was a very valuable experience.

I'm reminding of a post Spot did a few years ago where he said something about it not being good when playing first doesn't feel normal. You want it to just feel usual, no biggie. (I would link the post directly but Spot has been blogging for a a quarter of my lifetime, and I just don't have the kind of time it would take to find that particular post. I have no doubt he'll jump in and provide the link if he feels it's at all important.)

Well, it didn't feel normal, but it felt OK. It is so very different than playing in a section, it's almost like they should pay you more or something. ;)

What struck me especially was how much more you have to which to pay attention. When you are playing second horn, as long as the first is playing, you pretty much focus all your attention on the first. As long as you match them exactly, you're doing your job.

Well, OK, there are a lot of other things you have to be aware of, but at least you have your priorities neatly lined up for you- Objective No. 1: Match first horn. Objective No. 2-28: A bunch of other stuff.

But when you're playing first the priorities keep changing: Bars 1-3: Match first oboe, Bars 4-6: Lead, Bars 7-9: Tune to piccolo, Bars 10-12: Fit into brass sound, Bars 13-15: Cellos, Bars 16-18: Lead, Bars 19-21: Bassoons and Clarinets, Bar 22: Stay with conductor, and on and on and on. It's incredibly interesting, satisfying, and mentally exhausting when you are not accustomed.

The other big realization I had on the first real concert of my new job playing high horn, not just first, but third, which is really my job here, is that you simply cannot be afraid to miss notes. It's not an option.

Firstly, the reality is that you are going to miss sometimes. You play the horn, it's part of the package and there's nothing you can do about it.

Secondly, if you are thinking at all about missing, you're chances of doing exactly that increase threefold. This seems to ring even truer for high horn playing, probably because, due to the nature of the harmonic series, the chances of missing are higher up there. (Maybe that's why they call it "high" horn?)

Thirdly, if you play not to miss, and you don't miss, it sounds like playing not to miss--- note (whew, glad I didn't miss that)-note (whew, lucked out again)-note, etc.

Not exactly why I play music.

However, if you play to phrase, to express, to enjoy your sound, to create atmosphere, to collaborate with surrounding sounds, and all of that delicious music stuff, and you do miss, well, it still sounds delicious.

Just for the record, it sounds more delicious when you don't miss.

But you simply can't be afraid to miss.

So, the first time in a long time playing first was, in conclusion, a fantastic learning experience. I hope I get more of them.

It was also the first time in a long time I have played a concert wearing a long sleeve shirt. It's cold here at night! It's awesome!

On Thursday night I went to a yoga class, and for the first time in a looooong time I feel asleep during shavasana. I think that says more about my mental state in the last...well, long time...than anything. Doing yoga on a regular basis is valuable not only because of the shape it gets you in and the way it helps you breathe, but because it reveals to you so much about yourself and your current state. You can start to see patterns and from that make decisions to significantly influence your mental and physical states.

Most of my shavasanas in August through October were full of anxiety about my current job situation. October-December: anxiety about my lack of a job situation. December-February: anxiety about my new job situation. February: sleep. This is good.

Today is my 2-year anniversary of being in Mexico. For the first time in a long time I am in one place for awhile, and I'm starting to see that I could be truly happy here. This is also good.

Rain Drops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

2008-02-27T08:46:00.004-06:00

So far in G I have a variety of favorite things, but I think I may have discovered my favorite favorite thing yesterday.

I have been looking for a good place to go running in this town. I can't just go out my front door and go from there- this town doesn't work that way. The sidewalks are too tiny and crowded in the center of town (where I am lucky enough to live) and the cobblestone streets are a little too conducive to sprained ankles.

MP clued me into this ramp near my house (this town is made out of stairs and ramps, it's all based on different levels due to the whole city being built into the mountains), that if I just walk up it, and keep walking up, I can get to the Panoramic Highway pretty quickly. She claimed 5 minutes, but let's face it, she's in better shape than I
. 10 minutes isn't bad though, and it's a good warm up.

So I got up there, stretched a bit, and took off. I headed toward the hospital, as MP had suggested, and then ran through the parking lot and followed the dirt road to "la bufa" (not like the opera, music nerds, it's just what the call this place up in the mountains here). By the time I got there I was pretty worn out (that darn altitude...arrgh!) but I kept going a bit further, luckily.

La Bufa is like the opening of the Sound of Music, except a little browner, and warmer, I would imagine. And a bit more trash, I guess. But once you've lived in Mexico for awhile you stop noticing the trash.

But truly, it is so beautiful and peaceful up there. The air feels amazing and you just feel that the world is yours, up there looking out over wide open spaces. I went at about 6:30 and the sun was just starting to go down. The light against the hills was perfect, and ever-changing. I think if I go up there four times a week I will never again be in a bad mood. Then, as icing on the cake, as I walked back down it was just getting dark, and the lights in the houses sparkled in just a way that you almost think they're candles, like Whoville from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas or something.

Some of my other favorite things include that it takes only 1 hour for my laundry to dry, my 43 second "commute" to work, my eccentric and very sweet horn students, that we are playing a Brahms Serenade in a few weeks, and how tourists ask me when I'm around the theater..."Ingles? Oh, good, do you know about events here? Blah blah blah..." (I'm sure this will get old real fast, but for the present it makes me feel special.)

My favorite things do not include today's breakfast experience. I was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal, forcing it down as I wasn't really hungry anyway but knew I had to eat something before rehearsal. I hadn't even had coffee yet when this happened. One of the cats, "Castro" creeped up to the counter right next to the table. I glanced over and he started gagging, more of a dry-heaving actually. I had about four seconds to think, "what in the world..." and then he proceeded to throw up all over the counter. I literally ran to the other side of the kitchen and dumped out my bowl of cereal. Awesome.

Cleaning House, Or Just the Third Floor

2008-02-23T22:32:00.014-06:00

I realize that in the last 1...2...3...4...5...months I've been pretty ambiguous on the logisitics of my situation. Just little hints dropped in various posts and side-bars. So I guess it's time I come clean.

In October 2007 I quit the Yucatan Symphony Orchestra and headed out on what ended up being a 10-week spree of freelancing in various orchestras in Mexico (and one in the States). I lived out of my suitcase, met a TON of musicians, saw many different parts of this amazing country, and drank a lot, I mean A LOT, of cappuccinos of various quality out of paper cups.

My last "gig" turned into my current "job", here in Guanajuato, Guanajuato, Mexico. They needed a third horn player, I showed up, played a week, and then they asked me to stay, at least for six months for now. So, I got the job, and then we went on vacation for two months. That was pretty cool. :)

I headed back to the frosty north, and spent about a month and a half there, just long enough for me to begin to imagine the positives of life in the USA again. But, always faithful to the orchestra, I came back here a few weeks ago to settle into my new job, new climate, new home, new life!

So far, so good. It is FANTASTIC to have a job playing high horn, as I can take the drastic improvements I've made in that area in the last year and really put them into use. I feel for the first time in my life that playing high notes is not especially scary or difficult, but is rather just like playing the rest of the notes. The horn is actually beginning to feel easy, and I find it's the music that's difficult, not the instrument. Now that, that is fun.

The climate here is perfect. At least so far. But it was perfect before too, and people say it doesn't change much. It's like heaven compared to Y...

The home is lovely as well. I'm renting the third floor of a house one block away from the theater, and right downtown. So the location is perfect, and I really like the space (below is my bedroom and my balcony!)

And the view from my balcony!

Of course the best part is drinking my own homemade coffee from my own favorite Nissan mug. That's probably what I missed most when I was "on the road"!

As far as my new life...well, I don't really have one yet. I mean, aside from rehearsal, I don't really do anything, and it feels pretty bizarre after running around the country for two months, and then running around MN for two more months. My days are basically pretty empty and I'm not sure what to do with myself.

I've found that I'm filling my time with this one huge question: how can I get better at the horn?? I've made a lot of leaps in the last few years, but I want to make quite a few more. I finally have an embouchure that works, a mouthpiece I love, and at least an order in for the horn I want. It's pretty much all on me now. I'm doing a lot of reading, listening, reviewing of old information, and processing. I'm hoping it all comes out the bell sooner or later! I've also become aware of some of the major things that have held me back so far and had some breakthroughs regarding that. But I think I'll save that for another post...

Alright chicos and chicas, I hope that answers all your questions. I'm going to try to be better with the pictures, but I make no promises.

Cats and Cat-Like Things

2008-02-19T13:47:00.002-06:00

I've never lived with cats before, in fact I was always was under the impression that I was allergic to them. I probably still am, but since there is no carpet in this house and they never come upstairs (where I spend the majority of my time), it's not a problem. Still, it's going to take me quite a while to get used to seeing them on the stairs (still startles me every time) and on the kitchen counter (I try to use language to tell them to move and it never works so then I groan and push them off...)

There is this guy in the trombones that keeps meow-ing while we rehearse these absurd pops pieces. I try not to laugh, to maintain a professional demeanor. It really shouldn't be that funny anyway, right?! I don't know what it is, it must be the timing, but every time he does it I just cannot contain the giggles.

So far, this orchestra seems a lot less catty than my previous one, but I'm sure it's just because I'm still new. But they at least talk about work a lot less, which is refreshing.

Because the door in our house is a little strange and doesn't always close like it should, J doesn't feel comfortable giving a key to the house cleaner. Since someone's not always home when she comes to clean, they've found the next best solution: when she finishes cleaning the house next door, she just jumps over from their balcony to ours, cat-style, and goes in through the upstairs, naturally! (Only in this crazy town!)

Sicker Than Sicker Than a Dog

2008-02-17T20:53:00.002-06:00

Tuesday night I began to feel ill and by Wednesday afternoon it was like a truck had run me over. I was hobbling around moaning to myself and wondering how I was going to get through the 7 hour recording sessions the next day.

Luckily it never came to that because I was so sick I got out of it. I think I probably would have fainted on stage anyway.

It was pretty much the absolute worst time to get sick, on my third day in a new job and new city, hence, no one to really help me out. At least a clinic and a pharmacy are all within 5 minutes, walking.

The worst is over and I'm beginning to see what resembles my old self again. I'm even feeling optimistic.

The Good Things About Being So Sick You Can't Get Out of Bed For Four Days:

1. You have plenty of time to watch some movies you've been meaning to see that find in your new roommate's den like The Holiday and The Graduate and review all your old favorites like Moulin Rouge, The Sound of Music, Clueless, and Sex and the City, Season 4. Let's face it, you can't do much else.

2. You don't have to do dishes because you don't have to cook because you don't have to eat because you have ZERO APPETITE.

3. You lose 15 pounds because of number 2.

4. You're new roommate makes you amazing chicken soup for when you start to turn the corner.

5. When you come out of the stupor, you feel like making a fresh start.

6. When you come out of the stupor, you appreciate the important things, and find it easier to shake off the not-so ones.

7. When you go back to playing the horn, you really appreciate your new embouchure change all over again.

8. Meryl Streep was right when she said the secret to great hair is not washing it too much.

I'm still definitely under the weather, but at least I'm out from under the truck.

If You Like Me, You Will Love My Friends

2008-02-12T14:33:00.000-06:00

This post isn't about me (imagine that!). This post is about two friends and two assignments for you.

The first assignment is to voted for AD at

www.americashotmusician.org/Voting.html

All you have to do is send an email to amber@americashotmusician.org and include your name and phone number in the email.

You could spend hours reviewing the episodes online, or you could just trust me that she's the foxiest one on the show, no contest, and take one minute to vote.

The second assignment is to check out:

http://politicontrabajista.blogspot.com

This guy posts way more on his blog than I do, so you can use it as a substitute when your really craving C de C. I like his politics, and he makes the best videos.

I am enjoying starting a new life in G...but I haven't come up with a good blog title for all that yet, so you'll just have to guess the details. :)

The Clincher

2008-02-02T19:56:00.000-06:00

I've been vacillating between two very enticing Democratic candidates for awhile, leaning towards one lately, and now, after reading this, I've definitely made my decision and gone the way of my leaning.

So there, I'm done vacillating.

Tutita

2008-01-30T11:23:00.000-06:00

...no, it's not a kind of pasta, the latest pop star, or recently discovered Puccini opera...it's...

a kids' song!

And also the absolute cure for any kind of bad mood. Just follow the instructions, and be silly. (But really, it has a great beat.)

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.
Pies aparte.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.
Pies aparte, rodilla juntas.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.
Pies aparte, rodilla juntas.
Caderas arriba.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.
Pies aparte, rodilla juntas.
Caderas arriba, lengua afuera.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.
Pies aparte, rodilla juntas.
Caderas arriba, lengua afuera.
Ojos cerrados.

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tuitita, atuitita-ta.

Pulgares arriba, codos atras.
Pies aparte, rodilla juntas.
Caderas arriba, lengua afuera.
Ojos cerrados, désen una vuelta!

A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.
A tutita, a tutita, a tutita-ta.

I could do other jobs.

2008-01-29T14:16:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I'm a little weak on the titles lately. But I'm writing, so you've got to give me credit for that.

This has been an interesting "vacation" for me, in that it's been way longer than a normal vacation, so it's been a little taste of life in the US again, and not as a musician. Sort of. I'm not really working (8 hours a week doesn't count), but I'm not playing outside of the practice room either. I'm not gallivanting across state borders every other day to play random gigs and sub in commuter orchestras. And I'm not walking to my full-time orchestra job in the same hall every day. So, I'm doing something I haven't done since before I graduated from college--I am not working as a musician.

This has provided a few insights (always important to have insights!), the first being that I think I could work in another field and be happy. I mean, maybe. And I used to think that I had to be a musician or nothing. So that's nice to know. Like I think I could be the secretary at Peppermint Fence Pre-School and still find a satisfying life. (They had an opening, it crossed my mind). Or I could go back to school and get certified and be a Spanish teacher and really enjoy that. Or figure out how you become a translator, and really up the level of my Spanish and learn some other languages and do that. And these ideas are all kind of exciting to me; they make me think of the other parts of my brain and talents I would be exercising in these pursuits, or others.

But, at the same time, this two month period away from playing for money has shown me that I have it in me to be a horn player. (I've always been a big fan of the juxtaposition in my blog, have you noticed?) I have continued to improve completely on my own in the last 2 months, I have really solved some things and stayed committed in the practice room. I've worked on a lot of the self-s (self-discipline, self-confidence, self-acceptance, self-awareness, self-evaluation) that are so important to being a musician. And I've really enjoyed the process and the results! I've been to a few great orchestra concerts and gotten that rush at the thought of being up there, like I used to as a teenager. And that feeling alone is enough to keep you going for a good couple of years. I've also come to appreciate the logistic advantages of being a musician and see how I could make a really great life for myself with a decent orchestra job.

The freedom I get from the above insights combined is significant. I get to "keep up the good work" and continue to pursue my dreams, but I don't feel this unbreathable pressure to make it. I just really, really want to, which is different.

And as I was telling my Dad the other day in the lobby after an SPCO concert, worst case scenario, I continue doing all this stuff for the next however many years, and if I arrive at point in which I just am not going to make it, I become a manager at Target until I figure out the next thing, and I have no regrets. Really.

There are so many amazing things to be done in the world. I'm just choosing one of them.

Impact

2008-01-19T15:28:00.000-06:00

With 2 months of vacation falling into my lap, I took it upon myself to find a job. I was hoping to get about 20 hours a week at the restaurant I used to work at, but nope, not hiring. So I turned to the incredible Craig’s List.

Incredible as it is, I found an ad for a temporary Spanish teacher position to give enrichment classes to three and four year olds in Wayzata (where I am). So I responded to the ad. Turns out I went to high school with the young woman that started the company, and the woman they needed a sub for went into labor two weeks early, coincidentally also on the day of my interview. So, I got the job, and a few days later found myself sitting in a circle with a bunch of toddlers, speaking Spanish to their blond-haired, blue-eyed smiling faces.

It’s pretty fun. They are very, very cute and we get to sing a lot (two things I love- cuteness and singing!). And I’m learning all kinds of things, like the word “cuadrado”, when I frantically realized right before going to teach the first lesson on shapes that I had no idea how to say “square” in a language I’m supposedly fluent in! My favorite moment so far was when I was teaching them family members, and I said PaPA and they repeated PApa and I said, no be careful, because PaPA means dad, but PApa means potato…That went over pretty well. When we returned to the PaPA flashcard a few minutes later one kid yelled out, “Potato!”

Although I have done a fair amount of teaching over the years, and have gotten a lot out of it, I maintain that I don’t want to be a teacher. I think it is one of the most admirable and valuable professions in society, but it’s just not for me. I also maintain that everyone impacts everything, and every opportunity is an opportunity to impact something or someone. And I always aim to make that impact positive.

So after my once a week half hour lessons with these kids, I find myself thinking a lot about what difference I’m actually making in their lives, and what difference I want to make.

The truth is, with 30 minutes a week, these kids are not going to learn to speak or understand Spanish. They might learn a few words, a party trick or two for their parents to show off to their friends. But actual language usage? No way. But I think it can lay a groundwork for further language study or, more likely, an openness to other languages, and hence, other cultures, and other people. This I find exceedingly important in the USA today, especially with Spanish, given the increasingly negative attitude toward Spanish-speaking people in our country, due to misleading political commentary filled with not so subtle racist undertones and overtones.

So maybe in class we learn how to say “adios” and “hermana” and a few kids remember that. That afternoon they’re in the grocery store and they hear those words, which enter their little world because they dug out a space that afternoon in my class. Consequently, they turn their blond-haired head and see a little Mexican girl going out the door, saying goodbye to her sister. This grabs their attention. They continue to stare, as the sister keeps talking in Spanish to her “PaPA.” They don’t understand anything else that is said, but they begin to understand, in a way they couldn’t possibly articulate yet, about other languages, other countries, other cultures. Their little worlds get a little bit bigger. They continue to grow and always for some reason have an interest in Latin American Studies and International Relations. They develop an uncanny ability to bring the cultures together and break racial barriers. They come up with an incredible plan to solve immigration issues in which Mexico and the USA co-exist in partnership, where both countries are economically sound and socially decent. They win the Nobel Peace Prize.

OK, I guess I’m getting ahead of myself. But hey, you never know.

Or maybe their Dad walks in the door that evening and they yell “Potato!!” as they run over to give him a hug, making the whole family laugh uncontrollably and diffusing tension left over from a morning argument.

That would be pretty great too.

Parking Lot Reflections

2008-01-12T15:33:00.000-06:00

The thing about the US 'o' A is that you spend a lot of time in parking lots. Driving in them, parking in them, and walking in them. Almost every activity involves a parking lot.

I've found that time in parking lots is conducive to coming up with blog material. And being laid up with a sprained knee and the inability to walk is conducive to writing that material down.

It's interesting to be back for an extended period of time. Comfortable and disconcerting, familiar and eye-opening, enjoyable and depressing.

Let's start with the things I love about the USA, that I took for granted before I moved away.

***Young girls playing soccer. Tons of them. And they are really good. They are strong and fast and smart and having fun. Seeing this as I run around the track around the field on which they are playing makes me really happy.

***People actually talking about the issues in politics. Everywhere and everyone. And they know about the issues and they care about them and they are going to vote. It's refreshing.

***You can go to the grocery store at 3 in the morning because it's open and it's safe.

***This orchestra. Wow, they sound fantastic.

***You can get almost anything you want done. Fast. Gotta love it.

There are some other things but those are the biggies so far.

Now, the things I detest.

***Driving everywhere. It makes me feel ill, partly because gas is up to $3 a gallon, partly because the radio is just atrocious, and partly because the actual act of driving just gives me a stomach ache sometimes.

***The health insurance system (or lack thereof). Good thing my knee is getting way better way fast, otherwise I would be shelling out a hefty chunk of change.

***Did I mention the parking lots?

The Best and Worst of 2007

2008-01-02T13:38:00.001-06:00

In no particular order.

Best Gorditas: Guanajuato, Guanajuato. off Plaza Baratillo. Don't know what a gordita is? Click here. Wanna try one? Click here.

Worst Traffic Jam: Texcoco, Mexico. Cops, impound lots, bribes, fender-benders, un-fallible combi-drivers, and endless kilometers of traffic, this city has it all. But once you get to Lecheria it's smooth sailing!

Best Driver: BP. Hands down. What would I have done without him?

Best Express Mechanic: Out-in-the-boonies, Guanajuato.

Worst Weather: TIE: Yucatan in June and Minnesota in January. For very different reasons. Why is that my work schedule put me in these locations at these times?!?

Best Island: Isla Contoy, off the coast of Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo.

Worst Internet Cafe: Random street, Guanajuato, Guanajuato. Only-coin operated machines. Do you have change for bills? No. Does the machine take one-peso coins? No. Does it warn me when my time is about to run out? No. When I've used my only five-peso coin does it let me close my e-mail account, bank account, and Skype account pages? No. Could you do that for me then? No. Will I EVER come here again? No.

Worst Conductor: Five-way tie, but each in their very special ways. No names necessary.

Best Coffee: San Cristobal, Chiapas. Beans, that is.

Best Cappuccino: Cafe Tal, Guanajuato, Guanajuato (although the beans are from Veracruz).

Worst Drivers: TIE: Culiacan, Sinaloa and Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Neither quick nor astute decision making is a high priority in these towns.

Best Waves: Acapulco, Guerrero.

Best Sunsets: Mazatlan, Sinaloa.

Best Whale-Shark Swimming: Isla Holbox.

Best Tuna Melt: Still Mom's kitchen, Plymouth, MN. For the comfort food to really work, you have to be home. And tuna isn't that big in Mexico anyway.

Best Party: The Beach House in Chelem. 24 hours, almost, was it?

Worst Cantina: That one in Oaxaca. Does anyone ever really know the actual name of the Cantina they're in?

Best Blog Post: May Day. In my opinion.

Worst Book: Fingersmith. Someone will tell you to read it. Don't! (Sorry JD.)

Best Performance: Oaxaca City, Oaxaca. Cuarteto Ciurlionis. Works by Villa-Lobos, Piazolla and Grieg.

Worst Performance: The one I left at intermission.

Best Woodwind Quintet: TIE: Prairie Winds (Madeline Island) and Penta Musica (Morelia, Michoacan)

Best Long Weekend: Solo Trip to Xalapa. Concerts, Lessons, Running into Random Old Friends, and walking around one of the coolest cities in Mexico.

Worst Experience in an Airport: Mexico City. Waiting 12 hours (5 am to 5 pm) in the airport because I arrived way too early and couldn't change my flight. Hadn't slept the night before. Freezing the entire time. Drinking 9 cups of coffee at Wings to stay warm and awake.

Best Yoga Class: Merida, Yucatan. Great teacher, great space, great timing, great company. May it continue to bring peace to that part of the orchestral world.

Best Friday: Merida, Yucatan. Fish tacos and white wine with MT. Three dates in one day.

Best Cook: TIE: RM and MT. Thanks guys!

Best Shower: Cordoba, Veracruz. Hotel room of hotel I can't remember the name of. Huge. Knobs on opposite side of shower head. Good soap dispenser. HUGE.

Best Pop Song Reference in Rehearsal: JM, Heard it Through the Grapevine. Man that's a good song.

Worst Experience that's really the Best Experience: MAC (Monday Audition Club). Playing for your colleagues/friends is scary and depressing and difficult. And challenging and informative and powerful. Thanks guys.

Worst Run: Panoramic Hwy, Guanajuato, Guanajuato. High altitude + very little exercise for 2 months=very painful run.

Worst Gig: Patrimonio, "El Viaje de Terror."

Best Gig: Sleeping Beauty, Mazatlan, Sinaloa.

Best Buffet Restaurant: TIE: Cocina de Ana, Mazatlan, Sinaloa and El Midi, Guanajuato, Guanajuato.

Alright, I could go on for days, but I'll leave it at that.

My New Years Resolutions:
1) Stop biting my nails
2) Start writing on my blog.

This Is What I've Been Thinking About Lately

2007-12-17T22:58:00.000-06:00

Responsibility begins with the willingness to be cause in the matter of one's life. Ultimately, it is a context in which one chooses to live.

No, No, This One ACTUALLY Takes the Biscuit

2007-11-10T11:18:00.000-06:00

I have yet to understand the expectations for a classical music concert in Mexico.

After being a professional musician for going on three years, my expectations have lowered significantly from my days of an idealistic student. Now, when I go to a professional orchestra’s concert, pretty much the only thing I expect is to hear the pieces played without stopping. Everything else is up to chance. But I at least expect them to get through the damn piece from start to finish without any interruption.

These expectations have been disappointed twice now. The first time I was playing.

I put the responsibility of “not stopping” on the conductor. As long as he keeps flapping his arms, chances are at least 75% of the orchestra will keep trudging along, no matter what happens, and they’ll squeak through to the end. Of course, if the conductor cuts the orchestra off, they will stop playing, like the obedient followers of authority they are. It’s simple really.

Last night I attended this orchestra’s (if you bother to read this article, you'll conjure up another conversation about expectations, that is, that you can't have them for newspapers in Mexico...) performance of Petrushka. I was looking forward to the performance for a few reasons, and dreading it for a few others. Firstly, I had spent the week getting to know and playing with the members of this quintet, also the principal brass players in the orchestra. I knew that if all else failed, these guys would pull through. Also, I’ve been invited to play Mahler’s 1st Symphony with the group in two weeks, so I was excited for the opportunity to hear the orchestra in performance a few weeks before my first rehearsal with them.

I was, however, in sheer terror of a few artistic choices. In order to make the piece more accessible, the artistic director had decided to coordinate the performance of the piece with a video of the original performance of the ballet. While an interesting idea, in reality, the logistical nightmare sort of took the fun out of it. In order to coordinate the music with the on-screen dancing, the conductor had to time his orchestra’s piece perfectly to the recording of the orchestra playing in the video. This required him to conduct one of the most challenging ensemble pieces in the repertoire WITH HEADPHONES. I was already unimpressed.

It was obvious in the dress rehearsal that the concert was not just going to be the opposite of making music in the present, but basically a train-wreck. If the pianist was slightly behind, so what, he had to charge ahead with the tempo of the recorded pianist. If the flautist dropped a beat, well, there was no adjusting.

As I said to the brass guys before the show, “Oh man, anything could happen with this tonight!” and as they said to me, “Oh yes, and anything WILL happen.”

I didn’t know how spot on they were.

Everything began more or less as planned and continued along “smoothly” until about ¾ the way through when the video screen just went blue. I, personally, was thrilled, since I took it to mean the recording in the maestro’s ears was silenced as well. The ensemble immediately got better, the energy heightened. I started to really get pulled into the music.

This glimmer of hope lasted for about 5 minutes, until, in the middle of a phrase, the conductor STOPPED THE ORCHESTRA. Bam. There goes my chance of my one expectation being fulfilled.

He turned around, apologized to the audience for the technical difficulty, and begged for their forgiveness and patience while they worked out the glitch, in order to finish off the piece with the video.

I was devastated. Just when I was starting to really enjoy it, he stopped, to give priority to my least favorite part of the project.

After a bit of fumbling around, said conductor announced that unfortunately, it appeared impossible to start the video and recording in the middle of the piece. He then proceeded to GIVE THE AUDIENCE 2 OPTIONS.

1) Hear the rest of the piece without video.
2) Start the piece over with video.

Besides the hilariousness of having the audience vote on how to solve a serious problem (it’s sort of like a bizarre mixture of an orchestra concert and Family Feud!) I also really enjoyed the priceless look on all the brass players’ faces at the thought of starting over, after already playing a dress rehearsal that morning, and an almost complete run.

Luckily the audience voted (or the conductor interpreted various mumbles) for option 1.

They started at part 4, and continued without event.

I don’t get it- what’s going on in the head of the man on the podium? Should not the flow of the music, the inertia of a great work, be enough to make it obvious that stopping in the middle is simply not an option???

But the thing I found even more flabbergasting was that the majority of audience members and performers hardly seemed phased afterwards. I would say, “Can you believe what happened?!?” and they would say, “What?” and I’d say, “When the conductor stopped?!?” and they would say, “Oh, yeah, that” and throw in a little giggle probably just to humor me. Why weren’t people more disturbed by this? Is this a Mexican thing?

It’s true, it’s 2007, and classical music is changing. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d just like to hear a piece played the good-old-all-the-way-through-without-stopping-in-a-performance way.

Only in Mexico...

2007-10-29T21:14:00.000-06:00

...could I live this way.

The lifestyle I took on when I quit a few weeks ago (has it only been a few weeks? Seems like a lifetime...) is far from typical. Come to think of it, it's quite bizarre. Introducing myself is strange...when people ask me where I live, I have to stumble around, and ultimately say, "I DON'T KNOW." THAT is bizarre.

That's right, I'm home-less (and rent-less!) and trusting in the world and people I haven't met yet to get me through. So far, it's working.

But when I consider it closely, I think I realized the real reason I could take the risks I've chosen to take...I live in Mexico. Not only does that mean real chances for decent horn players pretty much wherever you go, but it means a level of generosity of which before I was sub-consciously aware, and now am fully astounded by.

Hospitality in this country is at another level...not only are Mexican people so incredibly open with their homes, their cars, their time, and their cooking, but it seems that foreigners living in Mexico take on these characteristics as well. I don't know what I would do without them! (And there's this guy in South Dakota that was pretty darn hospitable as well...)

So far on this journey I've crashed in the houses of four different friends, new and old, and had offers from about eight others along the way. I've had people drive a total of hours out of their way to pick me up or drop me off. I've had people cook for me, lend me towels, let me use their washer and dryer, take me to the grocery store, and tolerate my long tones in their presence. All of that, and they somehow leave me feeling not like an intruder, but quite the opposite, like they are happy to do so. There is a sincerity to it all that I find quite touching.

I even had someone offer me a place to stay for the entire month of December. "Really, it's no problem."

?!?!

The coolest thing about receiving generosity such as this, is that it makes me want to give. Not to "return the favor" necessarily (I've long since overcome the very American impulse to break even with favors) but to pass it on. I'm envisioning a house of my own some day, with a guest room that's always occupied. Helping out friends of friends, broke college students, freelancing musicians (!) or whatever comes up. Having open doors and cooking good breakfasts for practically strangers and just knowing they appreciate it as much as I do right now.

I have no idea what lies in my future, near or far, but I hope I can work in some of that along the way.

It’s An Absolutely Miniscule World After All

2007-10-21T20:51:00.000-05:00

All right, enough is enough.

When in August I was drinking a beer with a new acquaintance in Oaxaca, and we discovered that we had a non-musician friend in common, and that, oh my gosh, I was sitting across from the oboist I had sent an email to 4 years ago inquiring about orchestras in Mexico!, that was a pretty crazy coincidence.

And when I got back to work, and my colleague JD informed me that he had a met a violinist on Isla Holbox who had met me that same night of the first coincidence in Oaxaca, that was a complicated chain of contacts.

And when I went to Xalapa take lessons with a great teacher I had met in Oaxaca, and our morning lesson was interrupted by this kid, and I turned around, and it was an old friend from YOA who I hadn’t seen in three years, and that same friend turned out to be the son of the teacher I was taking the lessons from, that was an unbelievable happenstance.

And when this same son took me with him to meet the conductor of his orchestra, as he’s looking for a horn player, and as we were waiting in his office the personnel manager of the orchestra turned around and said, “Oh my goodness! Claire!” because he was also an old friend from YOA, that was an unexpected bonus.

And last Monday in the Mexico City airport, while I was stressing out about the person who’s house I was supposed to stay at not answering his phone, when I ran into a friend on his way to play in Yucatan, and we had a coffee and then he delivered all these things I had to get to Yucatan for me, that was a lucky break.

But this, this is the last straw. I just ran into LC, former concertmaster and very good friend of mine in Yucatan. HE LIVES IN SPAIN. I was waiting to board a plane to Mazatlan at gate 24. His flight came in from Venezuela at the exact same gate, he was on his way home. This is a guy who is super busy, always flying from interesting engagement to lucrative gig, rarely has time to answer emails, and I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see him again. And I ran into him in the airport!!! We got to catch up for a good 15 minutes, which is more than I ever thought I’d get to see him in the next who-knows-how-many-years. It’s been a year since we’ve seen each other, and it will probably be another 5, except with the way the world has been for me lately, maybe I lower that to only one more year after all.

Seriously, what is going on here?? Is somebody messing with me? Am I the protagonist in something like The Truman Show? Is the world shrinking? Are my shakras aligned? My moons in Saturn? Does anyone have an explanation?

The only disadvantage to this very exciting pattern of chance-meetings is that I’m afraid I’m starting to get used to it. Take it for granted. As if every time I walk into an airport or a music school I will expect to stumble across an old friend or maybe even the very person I had been meaning to call.

But the way life is going lately, anything is possible.

Engaged and Expecting

2007-10-20T10:24:00.000-05:00

Calm down, I haven’t fallen for a young Acapulcan and decided to finally settle down (although there are many attractive guys in this particular orchestra…),

But if I fooled any of you for a second, that title was worth it.

I have, however, been thinking a lot about the power of engagement and the power of expectations.

Engaged:

I’ve had a number of experiences in the last few months in which I “should have” been nervous. Difficult works performed in rooms full of talented, possibly judgmental, colleagues. In some of these instances I have been incredibly nervous. In others, hardly at all. The difference? In the latter, I have been so fully engaged in the music, that I haven’t had it in me to be nervous. Those experiences have been really sensational. Francaix Quintet with a really fantastic Wind Quintet at Madeline Island Chamber Music Camp. Mozart’s Gran Partita at Instrumenta de Oaxaca. Beethoven’s Third Symphony with the South Dakota Symphony. And my first rehearsal playing principal horn in a long time here.

When I’m really involved in what’s happening in the music, in what I am creating, in how I want to speak the music, there is no room for nerves. It’s like DH used to always say, “You simply can’t perform and evaluate at the same time.” And when you are not evaluating, you are not nervous. And when you are really performing, your whole mind and body are fully engaged in that act, nothing more.

That’s what makes auditioning difficult, because you are not surrounded by other musical influences (such as melody, sometimes) to keep you engaged. But, when it really comes down to it, it’s up to only me to be engaged musically. And I can do that whether I’m playing a whole note in my house or a solo with the best orchestra in the world.

That’s what I’m committing to expect of myself.

Expectations:

I’ve been reminded this week about the power of expectations. I arrived in Acapulco Tuesday night, expecting a really bad hotel room, since the reputation of this orchestra is not the best. Sure enough, it was away from the water, slightly run down, and the elevator didn’t work. I finally got to my room, desperate to get the horn on my face for a little bit of time that day, to find a steaming hot space, and no AC in sight. Lovely.

I threw open the door to the balcony (it’s not as glamorous as it sounds) and stood with one foot out the door (a good metaphor for my week here) and did some long tones. Sweating like a gring with a fever (turns out I actually was coming down wth something). Lip slurs. Worse. Breathing exercises. How could this room not have AC?!?! I put the horn down, switched on some lights, and looked around the room. Oh wait, there’s the knob that says fan, with your choice of degree. Click=air. Good.

It just goes to show- my expectations were so low that I didn’t even find the AC for a good half hour, when I needed it most.

My expectations of the orchestra were low too, and in this case that was powerfully helpful. Because the orchestra really isn’t so bad. But that’s still a good attitude to have when you are playing principal-that you are better than everyone around you, even though it’s not true at all. It’s all just a mind game.

So this week has been a pleasant surprise- air conditioning and a decent orchestra. Excellent.

I accepted the job, to start in December. But the conductor informed me that he couldn’t wait just 5 weeks for me to arrive. That seems strange to me, considering they offered me the job, and as far as I know, they don’t have anyone on the “waiting list.” But perhaps that is the playing-principal-mind-game going to my head.

I’m not expecting this to be the last conversation we have about this.

I also wasn’t expecting to arrive in Acapulco with a horribly sore throat, causing me to spend my three days here sleeping/watching TV in my hotel room. But it’s been good for me- I’ve caught up on my rest, and the re-runs of Gilmore Girls, Heartland, Smallville and The OC have reminded me why I gave up watching TV 7 years ago.

Except for ER, I still love ER.

Expect an update soon…more engagements to come!

Exactly 140 Pounds

2007-10-08T21:15:00.000-05:00

Did you know a bathrobe weighs 2 pounds? Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets- 1.5. The music I deemed essential to bring with me for the next month, plus all Norway grant application materials-9 pounds. Scores to Beethoven’s Symphonies 4-6 and Complete Piano Concertos- 5 pounds. This purse I bought in Chiapas- 2.5.

I was trying extremely hard last night to make one of my suitcases under 50 pounds. I felt I left sooo many things out of it. I knew one of them would be overweight, but I really thought the one would come in under 50. I get to the airport this morning…

…64 pounds.

So much for that.

I proceeded to transfer as many things from the 64-pound-er to the other suitcase, in order to only have to pay the overweight fee for one of the bags. The Continental agent was kind enough to let me keep the suitcase on the scale, so I could see when it reached exactly 50 pounds (hence knowing the exact weights of some of my favorite items). It wasn’t that difficult, really.

Then, when I put the other suitcase up on the scale…92 pounds. Oofta.

“Oh…este…the limit is 70 pounds.” “What? You didn’t tell me that. Lovely.”

I proceeded to transfer all the things I had just transferred back into the other suitcase, using quitting my job as justification for coughing up the double excess baggage fees.

What I don’t understand is why they even make suitcases that you can fit more than 50 pounds worth of stuff in. It’s infuriating! Deceptive! Cruel.

My mind started to run.

“How in the world am I going to shave off 14 pounds for the month ahead?? I could put some music in my horn case, which I carry with me. I was planning on leaving one pair of jeans at home, and wearing the other one when I travel. The Neruda is going to have to stay at home, even though I usually take it everywhere, since you never know when it might come in handy. I guess I could leave the purse too. But I’m also going to acquire Norwegian textbooks, a coffee mug, and who knows what else. I don’t think it adds up.

The items facing the most competition are clogs vs. running shoes, Maxime Alphonse vs. Kopprasch, and black skirt vs. black pants. As I learned this morning, every little bit counts.

Maybe I could find a lighter suitcase…?”

Despite the inner monologue, I had not completely forgotten the math skills I acquired in high school. 50+20=70 (I could only transfer 20 pounds.) 92-20=72 (The ultimate weight of the other suitcase.) 72 > 70 (One item simply had to go.)

I threw away the bathrobe. I don't know why I ever brought that stupid thing to the Yucatan in the first place.

Compromiso

2007-10-03T23:32:00.000-05:00

It's always bothered me immensely that "commitment" and "compromise" are the same word in Spanish.

I'm just beginning to understand the connection.

com·mit·ment [kuh-mit-muhnt] –noun

1.	the act of committing.

2.	the state of being committed.

3.	the act of committing, pledging, or engaging oneself.

4.	a pledge or promise; obligation: We have made a commitment to pay our bills on time.

5.	engagement; involvement: They have a sincere commitment to religion.

6.	perpetration or commission, as of a crime.

7.	consignment, as to prison.

8.	confinement to a mental institution or hospital: The psychiatrist recommended commitment.

9.	an order, as by a court or judge, confining a person to a mental institution or hospital.

10.	Law. a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus.

It's fascinating, really, the order of definitions you get when you look up commitment. It bears a striking resemblance to my experience of being committed to my old job. My feelings for this thing went from sincere interest and excitement about making it my number one priority to feeling like it was pulling my arms behind my back and holding me in place while I was trying to take steps forward.

I'm honestly not sure if this has more to do with the situation or me. I could very well be diagnosed as "non-committal." There would be evidence available. It could also be that it's hard to commit to something that doesn't commit to you. That it's hard to make something your top priority when you feel like you and your colleagues and your values rank about #170 on their list of 200 priorities.

I don't think I'll ever know exactly what it was.

Fortunately, I'm moving on to a new realm of the commitment question...

com·pro·mise (kŏm'prə-mīz')
n.

1. A settlement of differences in which each side makes concessions.
2. The result of such a settlement.
Something that combines qualities or elements of different things: The incongruous design is a compromise between high tech and early American.
A concession to something detrimental or pejorative: a compromise of morality.

I'm entering the world of freelancing in Mexico, which I'm finding to be surprisingly easy and hard to organize at the same time. For example, I got offered a gig playing extra for a performance of Mahler's First Symphony. Read that sentence again, literally. A performance. No rehearsals. I can't make the rehearsals, but I can make the performance. And they said that's not a problem. That's easy.

I also have a gig with a group that is willing to fly me from and to my "home" two times, two weeks apart, but is not willing to buy me a plane ticket which gets me there a few weeks early, making it possible for me to play a gig with another orchestra, because they're the "competition." Nor will they buy me a plane ticket and let me change it on my own. That's hard. Well, actually, that's just annoying. But annoying is hard.

The point is that through this process of trying to organize my freelancing life for the next two months, I am having to make commitments, and ask for commitments, and I'm realizing that they are nothing but compromises. OMG, I just saw the word "promise" in compromise for the first time. It's all starting to make sense. If I commit to something, I have to "make some concessions" in order to reach that common ground of settlement. So do they. So that's commitment- promising to compromise in order to honor the agreement.

But then there's that pesky definition #3.

Did I compromise myself by breaking my commitment? Was I forced to compromise myself in order to keep a commitment? Was I committed to compromising? Did I promise to commit?

I am far too exhausted to keep this straight at the moment. I fear that my mind (and thus, my blog) will be filled with many questions in the next months. I hope that the answers are soon to follow. I look forward to the process.

One Semester of Spanish - Love Song

2007-10-03T20:28:00.001-05:00

Sink or Freelance

2007-09-30T12:47:00.001-05:00

I submitted my letter of resignation on Friday morning.

I've been relatively quiet about my dissatisfaction with my job in the last month or so, mostly because thinking about it too much (and once in a while my writing requires thinking) just made me tired. I was able to reach within myself and decide to make the best of it for a while. But ultimately, I just couldn't shake the intense desire I had to quit in August when I got the news of the changes, or lack of changes, that would take place in the next stage of the orchestra.

If you want the whole story, give me a call. But it's not that interesting, really. All in all, I really think the universe was sending me a sign. In a week's time I got 3 offers that meet the qualities of definitely not ''A SHITTY GIG''. And I began to realize that while a handful of colleagues I love playing with, a lot of free time, and a steady paycheck are all wonderful things, it just is no longer worth it. If there is a time to take risks, live week to week, and have some adventures, now is it.

I am faced with a mix of emotions that I think will get worse before it gets better. I'm very excited to meet a lot of people and see many different parts of Mexico in the coming months. I'm totally dreading eating in restaurants all the time. I'm energized by the idea of being able to go for opportunities as they arise. I'm worried I might feel lonely a lot. I have high hopes that this decision will greatly improve the quality of my blog. But the biggest thing is that I will miss very much a group of colleagues that have become true friends, role-models, and unforgettable people in my life. Not seeing them every day will really take some getting used to.

I think, Ren, that they call it freelancing because you're free. And when you're free, life is full of possiblity. So, I'm looking forward to it. If you need a horn player for something, think of me! :)

Why Can't Playing the Horn be More Like Running?

2007-09-02T22:42:00.000-05:00

So I couldn't resist. But I'll keep this one brief.

1) Equipment matters.

I bought these killer new running shoes yesterday. They make a huge difference.

I want a killer new horn.

2) You're not out of shape.

Even though I haven' t gone for a run in a month, I could go just as far as I did before.

Stop using "being out of shape" as an excuse. Just relax and keep going, you'll be fine.

3) Sit/stand up straight.

I lean over when I run. This does not benefit me.

I do the same thing on horn. Also doesn't benefit.

4) Expending energy is fun.

Although I was dreading it, the first run after a month was actually very fun. I feel refreshed.

Don't be lazy- you always enjoy practicing the horn, once you get going.

Why Can't Playing the Horn be More Like Writing a Paper?

2007-08-31T15:05:00.000-05:00

I've been working on my proposals for this lately. They're consuming me a bit. During the time I'm spending on them I keep thinking I should be practicing. But, I'll admit, sometimes I find writing more satisfying than practicing.

Anyway, I had an insight. (yeah!) What if the things I like about writing, the things I excel at in writing, I could apply to horn? Now, I might be stretching it here a bit, but I'm into the extended metaphor lately. And in my list-maker spirit, I'll proceed.

1) Don't hold back.

When I write, I just let myself write everything down that comes to mind. My first drafts are really ugly- fragments, unorganized, random unnecessary thoughts (side note: I recently forwarded a draft of the proposal I'm working on to a professor who wrote me a letter of recommendation. Unfortunately, I forgot to remove the words "This paragraph blows" from the fifth paragraph, which is the paragraph I still thought needed a lot of work. Oofta.) But they have a lot of meat. They have content, ideas, and my voice. Once all of that is down on the page, I can do something with it. If it's never on the page, I can't.

I avoid a lot of things in my horn playing, because they might sound bad. Many things I need to work on never get into the room. That's silly. I like what DG said this summer, "Take the worst thing in your technique, and work on it until it's the best thing. Then see what the new worst thing is and repeat."

2) Work. Then Save.

One of the most satisfying things about writing is doing all the work and knowing it will stick. I can restructure an essay, change all my passive voices to active voices, and clear up a paragraph, hit save, shut my computer for two weeks, and when I go back, I know it will be there. Never a waste of time.

Often with horn it feels like I practice a thing, and the next day it has disappeared. Or I'm really working on something, and I don't for a few days, and it is gone. This is absurd. Why can't I make real changes that last, are effective, and I use every day? Actually, this problem is much much much better than it used to be. So I know I'm capable. Now I just have to stop futzing around and do it. A new goal: leave the practice room every day being able to do one thing you couldn't do before- permanently.

3) Demand excellence, not perfection.

When I write I am not thinking about making it "right." I'm thinking about making it great- effective, interesting, worthwhile to read. Of course I try to avoid spelling and grammar mistakes, because those get in the way of the message, but there is not this idea that it will be PERFECT.

Perfect performances are boring anyway. Not that I've heard one. But I would imagine that they would be boring. I remember hearing JZ perform the Brahms Trio at Aspen Music Festival. The first two movements were perfect, he didn't miss a single note. Then, during the first couple phrases of the third movement, he did. Don't know why, just did. All of the sudden the performance got much more interesting, I swear. There was a new intensity, a new level of expression. He didn't miss another note either, but he was much more engaged. It was like the point was no longer to play it perfectly, because that was shot-it was to play it excellently.

4) Enjoy the process.

One day in the cafeteria during freshman year of college, a friend of a friend told me why he was an English major. I had been complaining about writing (I used to not like it too much...). He said, "Writing gets fun when the process of writing takes you to new ideas. When the actual thoughts change and grow due to the writing of them down." I know what he means now. It is really cool.

We've all had those practice sessions where we're not watching the clock. More often than not, we are. But what if the goal of each session was to lose yourself in it? What could we accomplish then? What if every time you practiced, you discovered something? What if every time you played, no matter what, it was fresh?

5) Seek feedback.

I have no problem whatsoever asking for help with my writing. I've gladly turned over my proposal to 5 people, some strangers, some close family, and instructed them to rip it apart. Luckily, they haven't had to, but I wouldn't have minded. I enjoy getting their perceptions and advice in light of making my writing the best it can be.

I try to do this with my playing too, but it feels much more personal. This is ridiculous. How I play is not me, it's how I play. If I play badly, it doesn't mean I'm bad. I want to play the best I can- this means having other people listen and tell me what they hear. It might not be pretty, but I want to hear it.

6) Have a solid idea of what you want to say before you begin.

I'll confess I don't always have this when I write (you've all read the blogposts in which this is apparent). But everything goes more smoothly when I do. In attempts not to contradict #4, I will say that this doesn't mean your idea can't change, it just means that you have to start from somewhere concrete. No fishing around- it's not good for you, your reader, or the world at large.

As I was told multiple times this summer, I know how to play the horn. Now I want to forget that and say something. Make phrases, convey characters, engage listeners. To do this, I have to know how I want it to sound before the horn comes anywhere near my face.

Conveniently, this item is two-fold. Not only does it apply to performing, but to practicing technique. Playing an exercise or an etude is pointless if you don't know what you want to get out of it. As much as my roommate MT loves the sound of my high-range exercises, I think she'd be disappointed if she found out I was playing them just for her.

7) Be clear and direct.

No explanation needed, fittingly.

No more fuzzy notes or sloppy articulation. No questionable phrases or ignored markings. Enough said.

8) Take pride in your work.

I like what I write. I enjoy doing it, enjoy reading it, and enjoy other people reading it.

I can be proud of my playing, in the practice room, in rehearsals, on recordings, and in concerts. Especially in concerts- no more evaluating while performing. Doesn't work. I want to play out, like once I play it, it is gone from me. And I want to play so that what is gone from me I can see as an outsider, and like!

All right, enough writing...I need to practice.

Bad News is Good News

2007-08-29T16:14:00.001-05:00

I have, as of late, flung myself, with full force, back into the world of rejection. And let me tell you, it's out there, whether you manage to hide from it, avoid it, deny it, and ignore it or not. And it stings.

I applied for my first big thing since I got my job a year and a half ago, and I did not get it. Actually, I've applied for a few other moderately big things in the past six months, not huge, but somewhat significant, and I actually got those! So that was a pleasant surprise. But now I'm back to the harsh reality of rejection. It's oogie. I'd forgotten.

Things around these parts are not ideal lately. I won't bother going into details because, frankly, it's boring and I'd rather not waste my precious mental energy and finger muscles on describing it. But lets just say, it's a time to be keeping your eyes peeled for other opportunities. So I'm going a bit nuts finding out what else is out there, and getting my nose in some of it. And that means getting turned down. Not because I'm not qualified, because I think by now, I am, slightly. And not because I'm unlucky, because I actually am lucky too. But just because it is the world I have chosen.

Sometimes I wish that when I had gone into that "Pick Your Band Instrument" interview in fifth grade the band director had handed me the horn mouthpiece, seen my eyes light up, and then reminded me, "You do realize your choosing a life full of abrupt life changes, steady relationship obstacles, negative outlooks abound, difficult personalities, incompetent administrations and far more rejections than acceptances, right?" But then I remember, I still love what I do.

I'm putting a positive spin on things. It's what makes me happy, when I'm in the mood.

I'm in the mood.

So, I'm back in the world of rejections, which sucks. But it means I'm also back in the world of possibilities. The world of new contacts, new places, new dreams, new risks, new adventures, new problems (at least they're more interesting than the old ones), new everything. And this world gives me a lot of energy. It's true, it's waaaay less comfortable. It gives me anxiety. It's maddening. But it's exciting, and for me, exciting is oh-so-much better than same old, same old.

And also, maybe even more importantly, it makes me not take this job, and all the other chances I've gotten, for granted. I've been rejected from a mountain of things. But I've been accepted to a hill, which is still a lot. And I have a job playing music every day, and I still enjoy that. So when I got my first of many rejections to come, I was pretty bummed. And then about half an hour I was elated.

Maybe I'm schizophrenic.
Maybe I'm optimistic to a fault.
Maybe I'm enlightened.

Skype Stalker?

2007-08-24T20:24:00.000-05:00

Today I was watching a movie (A Very Long Engagement- I highly recommend it) and I heard the weird whoosh/bleep combo that means I got a message on Skype. Thinking I would just respond when the movie finished, I put my computer on mute and let the screen go black again. Half an hour later, when the movie was over, I went back to the Skype message. It seems that my Skype personality had a life of it's own, for it had responded to RB's messages, promptly, with "hi," "hello," "aroudndu" and "stupid," one after another, in response to each of her messages. If anyone can find anyway to explain this, I would appreciate it. I have since quit out of Skype, and don't plan to sign back in until I know what happened. I am disturbed.

Luckily, I won't be needing Skype on Isla Holbox, which is where I'm headed- bus leaves at 11:30 pm tonight!

Words Can't Really Describe

2007-08-22T19:30:00.002-05:00

I haven't really written much about my experience in Oaxaca. Let it suffice to say that most words would be a worthless attempt at describing it. I think it really changed me as a player, as a performer, as a person. I mean, I feel different about myself when my horn is in my hands. I think I sound different too. I can't write much else, I don't know what to say. Luckily, some professional photographers were taking pictures of us for the whole two weeks. So, here you go. Above, you can see some of my teachers and performances. Below, you can see my friends!

Over-Connected

2007-08-21T22:22:00.000-05:00

I think I have too many means of communication; it's getting out of hand. When I turn on my computer I sign on to Gmail, Skype, Messenger and Facebook. There's too many ways to get in touch with me and arenas in which I expect messanges...it's giving me a perpetual headache. I think I need to set myself some rules- like the computer can only be on 2 hours a day, or something.

I abandoned TV about 8 years ago because I felt it sucked everything out of me. And now my computer, with a screen the size of a small TV, is doing the same. How can I remedy this situation? Any suggestions?

In other news, I am learning some Norwegian, and think I have come down with a cold. The two are not necessarily related.

In observance of my new "cut-back-on-computer" campaign, I'm going to keep this one short.

Long Tones: Thoughts on Patience

2007-08-17T19:53:00.000-05:00

I am not a patient person. I could try to convince you that I am. I might have some good examples to use as evidence. I bet that some people I know would even argue that I am patient. After all, they might say, look at the profession you've chosen. One does not choose to sit in a substantially large group of people and be told what to do for a living if they are not patient.

But nope, I'm definitely not patient. I'm actually impatient to a point that patient people often drive me nuts. I know...patience is a virtue, blah blah blah. But when it comes down to it, for me, waiting around for stuff to happen is flat-out really annoying.

I'm actually waiting for my roommates right now- we are going bowling and were supposed to be there 3 minutes ago. Of course, we're back on Yucatacen time, so it doesn't matter. But man are they taking forever. I almost got up to coax them along, but I'll stay here and write this, like a little experiment.

I started doing long tones again yesterday. It has been a looong time since I've done loooong tones on a regular basis, and I think that is a very big problem given the state of my playing. It's ridiculous really. What are my biggest challenges as a player? Sound. Loud playing. Too much tension. Efficient use of air. What is the answer to all of those things? Duh.

For those of you who don't know, long tones are exactly what they sound like. You play a tone for a long time. The way I do it is first I play the note pianissimo for 10 counts (seconds, really) then crescendo and decrescendo for 8 counts, then crescendo for 8, then fortissimo for 8, then decrescendo for 12 and hold as long as possible. Then you change notes. 11 notes in all. That's....10+8+8+8+12=46x11, 460 seconds or just over 7 minutes. Of holding notes.

Actually, now that I've done the math, it's not so bad. It seems much longer while you're doing it. Aha, such is impatience. About 3 notes in I find myself longing (heh heh, no pun intended) to be done, eye-ing the last note, wondering if maybe I could just skip ahead. Who would know, after all? I have to keep reaching inside of myself for an inch more of self-discipline. I have to stay aware of what's going on in my body, keep demanding better tone, more relaxation from myself. I have to resist boredom, because really there's so much going on it would be crazy to be bored. I have to enjoy the moment, really, otherwise I'll just quit and go check "musicalchairs." (A tad ironic, no?)

Undoubtedly, when I finish, I am a much much better horn player. And only 7 minutes! Not only does it help so many areas of my playing, but it's actually a satisfying experience of being human, something about having survived and overcome the impatience monster.

The biggest problem with impatience is it impedes you from realizing that right now is everything. I mean really, this moment is your life. And this one. And this one. And if I spent the last three moments worrying about the next three, then I lost those three. And so on and so on. And that is quite disconcerting to me.

I am a forward looking person, which is a virtue and a hindrance. I think it keeps me optimistic, active, engaged, accomplished. But it also makes me miss a lot. So, that's what I'm working on, presently. Appreciating the now, whether it's a long tone or a rainy day. The future is important, but it's not everything, and it will happen when it happens, whether I anxiously anticipate it or not.

4H

2007-08-16T11:22:00.000-05:00

Hurricanes. (http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at4+shtml/143523.shtml?5day)
Humidity.
Huapango.
Horn.

Keeping my sense of humor.
Staying happy.

Wakka wakka wakka, I <3 Oaxaca

2007-08-01T12:41:00.000-05:00

I don't really have any time to post, but I just wanted to express my extremely positive feelings for this city and this music festival.

I like just about everything. I like the food, I like the atmosphere downtown, I like my brass quintet, I like my horn sextet, I like my brass trio, I like this really interesting Colombian bass player, super friendly Panamanian trombonist, and this crazy cool Mexican oboist, I like the hall, I like mezcal, I like that I have randomly run into two friends from my past here on vacation, I like the climate, and I like the Finnish horn teacher I get to learn from every morning.

Not too shabby.

Miss you all...more soon!

Woodwind Quintet Is Where Its At

2007-07-21T14:49:00.000-05:00

More on this later, but I'll just say that playing in woodwind quintet is a total party and I just had a fantastic chamber music experience with four other really really good musicians. I think I've improved more in the past week than I have in a looong time. Nice.

Long Time No Blog

2007-07-16T08:01:00.001-05:00

All right, I can’t betray you any longer. My recent lack of blogging is actually beginning to feel like a self-betrayal, it’s been so long. So I’m trying a new technique- blogging while not actually connected to the Internet. It’s a different experience, actually, and will probably result in a more journal-istic tone. I’ll connect when I head over to the main building tomorrow and cut and paste.

I arrived on Gilligan’s Island finally, after a long day of smooth but drawn out travel, at 9:30 pm. The good news is that the facilities are beautiful, there seem to be a few interesting people, and I have my own room. (I seem to be the only one with their own room, so that is extra good news. Now I have a place to do yoga un-interrupted and I can switch beds every night- tonight top bunk, tomorrow bottom, etc.! No, I won’t actually do that.) The bad news is that the delicious plates of dinner they had set aside for us included a big pile of pesto pasta topped with pine nuts, so I had to go without food. Apparently my health sheet didn’t quite make it to the kitchen, so there was not a nut-less option. Bummer. Hopefully the rest of the week they will come up with something, otherwise I’m seriously thinking of asking for money to buy some meals since I did pay to be here…

I maintain that the good news outweighs the bad news.

After memorizing a lot of names and asking the top 5 questions you ask people you meet at a music festival over and over, I got a little playing in and unpacked. And I realized something about myself…

I’m older.

The last time I was at something like this was two years ago, and while the surroundings were remarkably similar, I felt remarkably different. I don’t think I’ve ever unpacked in a place in which I will live from a suitcase for a short period. It’s never seemed the least bit important, and yet this time around it seemed essential. Interesting. And although I am hoping to meet some cool people that I can get past questions 1-5 with, I’m more excited about learning a lot this week, practicing, being serious, and coming away from this a substantially better musician. I’ve felt this way before, but it’s gotten lost in the desire to socialize. We’ll see.

If I continue to call this Gilligan’s Island does it give me license to describe the people who fit their stereotypes to a “T” that I’ve met so far? (Don’t’ worry Mom and Dad, I’m going to erase that paragraph in a few days, so no one will encounter it later and get their feelings hurt, but so that BP, RG, JD, and LR, who check my blog every day, can know exactly what I mean, and maybe even get a chuckle out of it.)

My real fear is that I too am fitting a stereotype- that girl who has a job in another country and can’t stop bringing it up. I’m consciously trying to not talk about it, because I don’t want to get annoying, and because when I do say I have a job in an orchestra, people’s voices change, like I’m a celebrity or something. I don’t want to break their hearts and explain about the orchestra or the audition process, and how if they had applied at the right time they could probably have the job too. But that seems to be a post for another day.

So I’ll leave it with this- being amidst a group of people who are in school, I am certain that I made the right decision. No matter how I got the job I have, I do feel really really lucky to have it. It’s what everyone here seems to be working hard for and what I was working so hard far, and, and it has changed me and my playing only for the better, and I would never want to go backwards on that move, from where I stand now.

Tonight I feel grateful, and a little bit lonely for the musicians I get to play my job with. The ones that know my answers to questions 1-5 and can tell me an inside joke or a word definition or buy me an ice cream cone or invite me to a party and really make me feel part of a community like I do on a daily basis at work.

Yep, tonight I feel grateful.

(And older, in my own room!!!)

...And then I walk in this morning to post this, and three people are speaking Spanish in the lobby...what a weird world!

Dear Blog,

2007-06-27T22:21:00.000-05:00

Sorry I've been neglecting you. I just need to get my priorities straight lately, and you know that you can't come first. It doesn't mean I don't care. But if I get the things I need to get done, and keep up my new disciplined habits of practicing, and stop wasting so much darn time on the Internet, we both know you and I will end up better off. I know I have left you out of a lot of great stories, rants, inquiries, and ramblings, and really I have lost a lot along the way too. But it is for the best. Thank you for your understanding, and I hope to attend to you soon, whether it be about the northern woods, bridesmaid-excursions, beautiful weddings, adventures on "Plum Island," or that crazy-named place with an "x" in it.

Love, C de C

P.S. If it would be OK with you, I'd like to allow some guest bloggers to contribute, if they're interested, in the meantime. I know it won't be the same, but perhaps it can hold you over.

(Anyone want to guest blog?!?)

Cardboard...

2007-06-14T22:18:00.001-05:00

...is what my chops feel like.

I thought maybe if I admitted it to the world, it would go away.

The Top 10 Things You Do in Yucatan Because of the Heat

2007-06-07T07:27:00.000-05:00

We actually do these things.

1) Eat breakfast in the dark to avoid the extra heat from the overhead light.
2) When driving and approaching a red traffic light, stop a good 100 feet behind the intersection, just because there's a patch of shade to wait in.
3) Learn how to sleep with no body parts touching, since any point of contact is sure to sweat profusely.
4) Rearrange living room into bizarre set up so that main seating areas are directly under overhead fan.
5) Three showers per day.
6) Go the the mall and wander around aimlessly just to be in AC.
7) Go a 7-11 and wander around aimlessly just to be in AC.
8) Make purchases specifically in stores on the lower floor of the mall, as opposed to the upper floor, because the AC isn't as powerful on the upper floor.
9) Roll shirt up to leave stomach exposed and provide more ventilation. This is done anywhere, any time, under any circumstances.
10) Nothing. It's too hot to do a damn thing.

It's Not Me, It's Them

2007-06-04T20:51:00.000-05:00

When did it become OK for 13 year-old boys to have absolutely no respect for their elders, teachers, or anything??? I have a few boys in my class who are so far from well-behaved it's sickening. When I ask them to be quite multiple times they actually have the cajones to turn to me and motion like, "Just a second, I'm almost done telling my friend about my favorite band..." so I have to say things like, "No, that is not how it works in my classroom. Blah blah blah." A few of them even made fun of my accent (in Spanish) today.

Is it because I speak another language so they don't really see me as a person? Is it because they have not yet learned what respect is and why it is important? Do they do it purely for attention? Are their parents completely incompetent at raising them? Is it because they are spoiled? Is it because they are Mexican? Will they grow up in the next few years into nice young boys, who care about their mothers and getting good grades and getting into university? Or will they become the ones that whistle at me on the street or the ones that waste my time in rehearsal?

Some days respect strikes me as this abstract thing, the importance of which I can't quite articulate. Right now it is a very real, necessary, essential to being a human thing, the lack of which in these teenagers leaves me flabbergasted.

Fun with the Internet

2007-06-01T14:19:00.000-05:00

Some things on the Internet are fun. Here are a few:

I don't know who most of these people are, I look 64% like a guy, and who knew Britney's real name was Jamie Lynn? But hey, from now on, I'll just answer to "Madonna."

My house mate is a short films genius. He does his best work during mundane rehearsals when the basses have lots 'o' rests. Here are my recent favorites:

Lil' Giraffe

Big Giraffe

And this is the website of the political party that just took over the state I live in.

Funny.

Quite the Juxtaposition

2007-05-31T23:17:00.000-05:00

This week has been really great in the orchestra. I have learned a lot each morning, and feel like I am getting a better idea of how to play Schumann from MR, our guest conductor. I have found his rehearsals to be engaging, effective and fun. Plus, everyone leaves in a good mood, which is always a good sign.

Yesterday morning we were in the middle of one of those engaging moments when it was snapped in half like a twig.

We began Oberon Overture- MR explained who Oberon is, explained the magic of the story, and how that came through the music. It was really starting to work- he was demanding more focus from us, I could feel the energy of the group centering and really starting to reach that zeroed-in quality that's especially necessary for magical introductions.

Just as I began to enjoy this new found atmosphere, a woman out in the seats began talking rather loudly to a group of people that had gathered near the back of the hall. MR flicked his head quickly, shot out a brisk "Shhh!" and then turned back, focusing again immediately. Unfortunately, the woman didn't really get the idea, but she did at least start to walk out the door.

Good, I thought, this nice moment won't be ruined.

And it did last a second longer, until the doors at the back of the hall opened again, and in walked...a giant, human-sized R2D2. I kid you not. Talk about a sudden change of emotion. I'm telling you, R2D2 is funny when 3 times its original size.

MR of course could not see this, and his eager focus was too endearing to bust up by laughing outright, but it was pretty hard to stay grounded. I think I only skipped a few bars, but I really hoped he wouldn't notice my facial contortions and think I wasn't into the rehearsal, because I really was.

So, it was pretty funny. But not funny, ha ha. More like, funny, you have to laugh otherwise you'll scream and cry at the giant analogy this is for your whole job...

Just Do It?!?

2007-05-28T12:32:00.000-05:00

I have not been this frustrated in a looong time. Well, maybe when I changed my embouchure. But then I had the "I just changed my embouchure" clause to get me through. I can't say "Excuse me for screwing this up 20 times in a row, I just changed my brain." Or can I?

We just had a recording session of the piece my wonderful colleague WJM wrote for our horn quartet. It's the kind of morning where I feel so lucky to be exactly in my shoes. A guy I sit next to every day is creating new art for a group I play in, and we get to record it, add something creative and good to the world. The piece is really beautiful, I love sitting down bell from these guys, and they even turned the air conditioning on. Not bad, not bad at all.

One thing that's great about WJM is he's very prepared, thorough, and thoughtful (OK, three things that are great about him). These qualities gave a nice atmosphere to the recording session; when we started recording I felt calm and focused, like I could play well even though we only rehearsed the piece once.

We recorded the last movement in one take, more or less. (I think we did a few takes of the last section.) There were some truly beautiful moments and we had a flow. We took a break and then began to tackle the second movement, which is much less hornistically (come on now, why did my spell check highlight that word, isn't it about time hornistically is in the dictionary?!?) challenging, but much more mentally challenging. I had been having some trouble with it in the rehearsal, but I had looked over the part, felt more confident about the technical aspects and thought that this would allow me to focus all my attention on the mental part- the counting. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken.

It's true the writing is complicated- a 5 beat melody, in 3/4 time, that phases cyclically, so it falls in a different place and in different relation to the accompaniment every time. But still, I should be able to count to 3 and put some eighth notes in their correct place. Something about it though, I just could not get through without getting lost. And once I got lost, I could never ever get back on.

Everyone was very understanding and sweet about it. I think I will have to shake off the feeling that they secretly resent me for my incompetence, because it won't be good to carry that around. And I think there are some extenuating circumstances. I trust that I still can learn the part with a little more time (unfortunately, we didn't have time for this particular portion of the project...).

It's just frustrating to bump up against your limitations. I don't really know how to deal with it. I'd like to blame it on my recent change of brain, but realistically that's not any sort of option. In this instance I'm forced to do the very uncomfortable- admit I just cannot do this thing in this moment, take the time to learn how to do it, and move on. Ugh, I don't like that feeling.

It seems an American value to be able to do anything, that it all depends on how hard you work. I still believe that to a large extent, and I'll keep at it, but the all American slogan "Just Do It" doesn't give a hint as to what to do in that period in which you are working. After all, it's not "Just Do It and If You Can't, Open Your Mind to Options, Do the Best You Can and Don't Be Too Hard On Yourself While Still Staying Committed to Doing It Eventually."

Yeah, I guess that doesn't really have the same ring to it.

What a Pain in the Neck

2007-05-23T22:19:00.001-05:00

I have an appointment with a chiropractor on Friday. I think I'm going to cancel it to go to this yoga class that has been recommended to me (thanks JK!!), but I am going to reschedule it. That's right, I want to see a chiropractor.

I don't know quite why this concerns me, but it does. It makes me feel old or something, even though I'm not going for anything serious. I just have some extra-special neck tension and my massage therapist suggested this guy. She says he can "realign me so I feel a tremendous release in these specific areas." Hey, I'm not going to pass that up.

So, I'm willing to try something new to take care of this particular thing I've been withstanding for awhile. It's gotten me thinking, what else in my life am I simply tolerating? Am I content to tolerate my life, parts of my life, anything in my life? Or if something doesn't work for me, can I just change it? Could I actually my life exactly what I want it to be?

Here's some of the things I'm putting up with:

1) An unsatisfying work environment
2) The heat
3) Feeling lonely (sometimes)
4) Being far away from my family
5) My weak high register
6) Back and neck tension
7) The 13 year old rug-rats I teach three nights a week
8) A small layer around my middle I'd be happy to do without
9) The heat
10) The Yucatecan concept of time
11) Chamber music classes I have to teach (sometimes)
12) The chimes player in this concert
13) Being surrounded by low expectations

I'm doing something about 2, 3, 5, 6, and 8. I'm stuck on numbers 1, 4, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12. (And yes, in case you're wondering, "The heat" and "the heat" are different. The former you can alleviate by going to an air conditioned space. The latter permeates AC, leaving you sticky, sleepy, and still feeling like you can't breathe.)

I don't enjoy the experience of putting up with stuff. It's unpleasant and doesn't make me want to get up in the morning. So I'm considering my options. Can I truly change my attitude? Can I fully accept? Can I let it go? Can I transform my relationship to the thing, given that the thing itself can probably not be transformed?

How in the world do I do that?

Some days I go to teach the rug-rats and I see them as adorable, lively, quick, intelligent, eager, and good kids. On those days I think I teach good classes, we all leave with something. Other days I see them complete wastes of time, spoiled little brats, respect-less, ignorant, puny punks. I don't know what makes the difference in how I see them, but I know it's possible, so I'm going to keep working on always going for number 1. I mean, if I have to be there, I might as well try. This applies to the chamber music classes as well.

I don't like being so far from my family, but I can accept it, justify it, email them, and look forward to visits. I can also accept the heat, remembering it too will pass. I can even accept the chimes player, if I count very slowly from 1 to 20 as she bangs out a completely rhythm-less series of notes in absolutely no relation to the ensemble 4 times in a row.

But I swear, numbers 1, 10 and 13 are just pissing me off and I don't know what to do. It's not good. I don't like to be pissed off.

As my new kick becomes a more legitimate pattern of habits (at least 2 hours of practice a day, listening, studying, exercising), I'm holding myself to a higher standard. I'm trying to push myself, improve, expect more of myself. This is an essential for any musician that wants to succeed, as we spend most of our actual playing time by ourselves in a little room. Ultimately, no one is going to hold our hand or do us any favors. Ultimately, it is about how we, all by ourselves, play. That challenge is inspiring to me, and I'm taking it on.

But it is frustrating to be surrounded by much of the opposite in the meantime. It's hard to not let it get to you. It's disappointing to not be asked to do your best. I'm not trying to criticize everyone else here, by the way. I'm talking more about wanting personally to be pushed by that around me. And there are plenty of people around me that are striving and succeeding. (Example: Heard this string quartet last night. They are really great, and I get to play with them every day, albeit a few feet away.) But there is a lot of settling, a lot of acceptance (in the negative way), a lot of sluffing off. And it's driving me nuts!!

Well, I won't put up with putting up with it. (Got that?)

So now I just have to figure out what I'm going to do instead.

Social Butterfly or Hermit Crab?

2007-05-19T22:17:00.000-05:00

I can't remember the last time I didn't go out at least once on a weekend. Truly. Between the laid back schedule, stable income, and no shortage of partying friends, I don't think I have spent both Friday and Saturday night alone since I moved here.

Until this weekend- duh duh duh.

Funny how my post about my totally calm and introspective weekend is starting to read like a dramatic tale...

The roomies are out of town, so I've decided to take advantage of having this big wonderful house (the first place 'round here that feels like home, by the way) to myself. Some of the activities I have participated in that I would never do while the roommates are home include- yoga in the living room, leaving various plates and cups in different corners of the house all day, listening to bachata ridiculously loudly on the main speakers and...well actually, I guess that's really it.

Both Friday and Saturday have consisted of sleeping late, practicing a lot, working out, and watching an entire season of Six Feet Under. Woo hoo.

I've loved every minute of it!

Friday morning my sleeping in was interrupted off and on (thanks for the text messages and annoying doorbell ringing, BP) but the knowledge that I could sleep in as long as I damn well pleased is really the fun part. This morning my sleeping in was entirely unintentional. The idea was to get up early and do some yoga before my three hour English conversation class, since I knew that would help it to not feel like 1 hour of fun and 2 hours of pulling teeth. However, all alarms failed to sound, and I woke up to the squeal of a cat at exactly 9:30. Not having a car and having to be somewhat far away at 10 was not a nice combination of circumstances in that moment. But it was fine.

I'm really getting back into a practice schedule that resembles that of what I need. I've done my maintainence routine every day for two weeks and it's amazing how that's basically what it took to make my not-so-new embouchure feel not-at-all-new. I'm comfortable all the way up to my new found, not fuzzy B-flat, and I'm starting to have a clue about the intonation tendencies of most notes. Still not a lot of endurance, but that should come.

I've been exercising consistently as well, and it feels great. It's gotten to the point where I look forward to it, rather than dread it, and that is the worst part of getting back into the habit. Yoga and running- both things I love because they exercise the body, the breath, and the mind, much my like my first true love...playing the horn.

And the Six Feet Under has been fun too. I'd say the fourth season is the worst so far (more drama, less point) but it's still totally entertaining. And I'm noticing how when I watch 5 hours of a TV show in one day I start to imagine my life as being like the TV show. Like I'll pause to look at a picture I've had in my room for a year and I imagine the camera zooming in and then cutting to a flashback or something...is that totally weird, or do other people do that too? Of course it doesn't hurt that on this particular show one of the characters is named Claire and another is actually a professional horn player (no way! There was one scene in which he was practicing and it was so funny because the focus was supposed to be this dynamic between him and his girlfriend and all I could think was, what etude is that...?)

Anyway, so it has been a very very low-key, disciplined weekend. I've accomplished every single thing I set out to do every day (there were some annoying errands and other to-do list items in there, promise) and that's felt really great. Nothing much has happened to me and I feel great. I've been thinking a lot about integrity and being committed to the stuff I care about. I haven't been lonely one second. It's weird.

So maybe what I need is not to fill up these holes I feel sometimes with parties, new friends, crazy conversations, or nights on the town. Maybe I need to get back to what's inside of me- my goals, values, peace of mind, and fill the holes from the inside out. Maybe I've been silly enough to not even realize this until recently. Maybe I've been lucky enough to figure it out now.

Oh, and the worrying is over. It's true, he had a pretty darn good excuse but I haven't bothered to call him since. Alas...

Worry Wart

2007-05-15T10:26:00.000-05:00

I've been kind of a worry wart lately. In an age of cell phones, wireless internet, and Facebook, when someone is out of communication for more than 5 days you start to wonder. And then you start to worry.

My grandparents are the biggest worriers. (Speaking of my grandparents, my mom just informed me that she prints out my blog posts and mails them to them, since they are not "online." How cute is that? Hi guys! Love you and miss you!) Really, they worry if you are two minutes late. I've taken to calling them on the way to their house to say I'll be there in half an hour when really it's more like 15 minutes, just so they won't worry so much when I'm not early. They wouldn't make it in Mexico, where "6:00" means anywhere fom 6:15 to 6:45. But I'm getting away from my point.

My mother is a pretty big worrier herself. I actually really admire her for letting me go all around the world without too many panic attacks. The look on her face when I told her I was going to Mexico City at the ripe old age of 19 was not one of excitement. Nor when I got the news I'd be going on tour to Venezuela, Colombia and Argentina the next year. Or moving to Mexico a year after that. Or wanting to go to Cuba. ;)

So let's see...grandparents? Worriers. Mother? Worrier. Father? Semi-worrier. ME? Oh shit, I'm a worrier too.

Now it's true, I've been able to deny this fact for a good long time. I can roll my eyes at my mother's concerns, play it extra-cool when talking about my travels, be young and carefree.

But it's time to confess. I've been a worry wart my whole life.

Back in the days before a driver's license, when my parents would pick me up from rehearsals, if they were more than 5 minutes late I would start freaking out, sure that they had been in a car accident and were at that very moment gasping their last breaths in a hospital somewhere. Of course that was never the case, but the pictures running through my mind were gruesome.

Worry in Spanish is preocupación, which is a word that doesn't look too unfamiliar to English speakers either. But it's worth picking apart. Pre- (before) occupation (taking possession), or "a taking possession beforehand." And isn't this, after all, exactly what worry is. Taking possession of the situation in your mind, before you have any idea what's actually going on.

As human beings (or maybe this is just me?!?) we are obsessed with resolving situations. Explanations, reasons, excuses, closure, wrapping things up are all essential to our fragile illusion of having peace of mind. So, if you don't know what's going on with something, because something out of the ordinary occurred, you make something up. You "take hold of the situation" before knowing it in reality. And usually you insert the worst.

So, I got stood up on Friday and I haven't heard from him since. Insert the worst here.

Unfortunately, in this situation, there are many "the worst" possibilities.

1) He completely stood me up and doesn't care, thus not calling to explain/apologize and making me never want to see him again.
2) He totally forgot and is a super-flake who I don't really want to invest any more time in.
3) He is in the hospital or worse.
4) He plans to never see or talk to me again, out of the blue, AND he has my flash drive cable.
5) Friday plans were totally casual, not firm, as is our relationship (which is great!) and I am a clueless weirdo that didn't understand that.

I really do not want to be worrying about this, it's a pain in the neck. But I cannot help it, and I'm at a complete loss as to what to do. Any counseling on this item is welcome.

And then, to top it all off, I am reminded that terrible things actually do happen to people in your circle of the world.

It is nice to go through the world thinking that stuff like that will never happen to you or anyone you care about (no diseases, sudden deaths, kidnappings, serious crimes). Really, how would we survive any other way? But the truth is, these things do happen, and to all of us. I have known many people who have passed on, a few much too soon. This has happened and will continue to happen. This is bad news, but I guess part of maturing is seeing this, and accepting this aspect of life.

And worrying.

The Mal

2007-05-13T12:36:00.000-05:00

That's right, I'm talking about your typical over-sized shopping center, and it makes me feel baaaad.

Why, then, have I been spending an exorbitant amount of time there lately it seems? I think I've been 3 times in the last 2 weeks, which makes me feel really disgusting. The first time I had to go to run a bunch of errands that I was sure could be accomplished at "Gran Plaza." The second time was to re-try 5 of the 6 errands since you can never get anything done on the first try in Mexico. (No, I can't tell you which one you need from those three numbers, you need this other number, etc, etc.) The third time was to try to buy a few more clothing items I determined I needed (ahem, wanted) on the second trip.

When I'm heading to The Mall, my hopes are always high. I try to think of the positive things- ¡air conditioning! ¡Segafredo!...uh... I try to approach it like "the modern equivalent of an open air market."

But then I arrive and I'm reminded of why I hate The Mall. Sometimes I'm reminded of it on the bus, if a group of teeny-boppers headed to The Mall gets on.

Although the air conditioning does make everything look more rosy, I still see the 13 year old girls in their 18 year old outfits, the over-priced, under-sized slew of clothing stores, the endless rows of cell-phone booths, the astonishing amount of English posted everywhere (since most of the stores are American). In fact, Gran Plaza's own slogan is even "It's Time to Shopping!" (Yeah, no kidding, way to go on the grammar check on that one guys.)

Going to the area of the city where The Mall is located is also kind of bizarre. You ride way far north, and then get off the bus and look down the road (which is wider, faster, and cleaner than your typical road in this city) and see Sears, McDonalds, Sam's Club, Home Depot and PeMex. BUT, the PeMex is the only one I've ever seen that actually has a convenient store as a part of itself-American style. So it's a bit like walking into another world which, as an American living here, is simultaneously comforting and frightening.

I guess I'm not certain what it is about The Mall that makes me feel so violently nauseous by the end. It might just be that I'm participating and I don't like to admit it. It's true, I do really like the 1...2...3...4...5...6...7 items of clothing I've bought lately (and I haven't bought clothes since I moved here...I swear), but I have an almost allergic reaction when I think about having spent that money on them. As if a part of me wants to be that kind of person that doesn't care at all about her appearance, and then the other part of me has to knock that part upside the head and remind her that we actually do care. But I swear, something about all those stores lined up right next to each other, and all those people going from store to store, just sucks the soul out of me. Truly, I leave feeling like my soul has been sucked out. I can't explain it any other way.

You know, writing about this, and knowing that I won't be going to The Mall for a very long time again, has made me feel a lot better about it. And I do really like the new pants I'm wearing.

Quotes, Rumors, and Suspicions

2007-05-11T14:44:00.000-05:00

"Everyone has to be a leader." -JD"

"First you have to realize it. Then you have to want to change. Then you have to change. :)" -JD

"I think hope is almost a delicate thing and people treat it like it's the bad guy. I would just say be careful that you don't make it mean too much if it doesn't work out. If you hope and you don't get it that doesn't negate the hope." -JS

"You know the difference between hopeless and hopeful? A little more hope." -JP

"Don't over-analyze." -CM

These are some things people have said lately that I've gotten something out of. They aren't inherently profound, but they've struck me as such. Besides, the people that have said them are smart and know me pretty well, which definitely adds weight. As usual, they seem to apply to all areas of my life.

My idea of being a low horn player is evolving from one of, "follow the person to your left exactly" into, "know exactly what you're doing and how you want to sound, play your part like that, and listen very very well to the person on your left." Or something like that. I'm trying not to over-analyze it, and I hope I'm doing a good job.

In other areas (aka, the dreaded dating front...duh duh duh...) I'm behaving differently as well. I've really learned a lot about myself in the past year in this area. Realizations---desire to change---change. Maybe. Abracadabra. Well, it's really not that simple, but I am seeing things from a different angle, and a lot more satisfied because of it. Basically, I'm just living my life, taking what I can get, and hoping for the best. Period. This may not last (this mentality or the dude). That's OK.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It is rumored that it is official that we will have a new music director come August. This is the best news "around the water cooler" that I've heard, well, ever, since I've been here. (Actually, we really do have a water cooler back stage and sometimes when everyone's standing around it I think, Wow, I never imagined Dilbert or Office Space would apply to my line of work. But there it is.)

Again, I find myself being afraid to hope that it will really happen. It would be so amazing to have my second year here be one of change, in which the orchestra really grows. There would definitely be a lot CH's- changes, challenges and chaos, but it's the necessary thing.

I'm waiting for an official announcement of some kind, but even then, expecting the expected is dangerous in Mexico.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I suspect the average Yucatan is totally weirded out by the sight of me biking by. My skin is white, my bike is pink, I have a funny shaped black case on my back. I'm often listenng to my iPod and sometimes wearing a skirt.

I know it's not often-ok, never-seen around here. But for Pete's Sake, you don't have to do 4 double takes!! (Would that be a quadruple take?) That's just rude!

My other suspicion is that I'm in a blog rut. Of course, yesterday I had a million post ideas. But every time I went to my blog I got this weird Apache/cPanel page (if anyone can tell me how to fix THAT, I'd appreciate it. For now, I'm just using Safari instead of FireFox, but that's not my ideal choice.) And so, the ideas just kept coming (oh so ironic) and I just kept getting more frustrated.

Perhaps I need to re-work my personal blog mission. It used to be a lot of lists. Then I went through a sort of vignette stage. I guess there was a complaining period. What's next?

What If...What Then?

2007-05-08T23:12:00.000-05:00

What if every rehearsal started and ended on time?

If everyone returned phone calls in a timely fashion?

If everyone had the same idea of professionalism and acted accordingly?

If no one ever played sharp?

If 4/4 bars were never conducted in 6 by accident?

If stupid mistakes with recording equipment were never made?

If intimate moments were never made horribly awkward by stupid comments?

If everyone always cleaned up after themselves, literally and figuratively?

If students called ahead to let you know they weren't going to show up, always?

If everyone came prepared?

If the person you wanted to hang out with had a schedule compatible with yours?

If no one ever called each other names, no one ever lost their cool?

If everyone interpreted situations alike, resulting in no more mis-communications?

If everyone liked the same music, and therefore no one disliked the music you like?

If everyone saw things the same way?

If everyone understood you?

If everyone always agreed?

What then?

Take away all that, and you're taking away quite a bit of what makes up your day. Conflict, disappointment, less than perfection is exactly the stuff that life is made of. But maybe all-of-the-above is not so negative after all. Maybe it is just the turns life gives, the cards you are dealt, and each new situation is to be embraced, or confronted, or considered. Where there are upsets, there are breakthroughs. And besides, if all-of the-above was always, you wouldn't really appreciate it anyway. Hmmm....nice.

*Side note: this post is not meant to imply I'm in a bad mood. It's true, rehearsals lately have been pretty rough. But I've actually still been in a pretty great mood. So this post is actually optimistic, not pessimistic, I just decided to come at it from a different angle. Not sure if it works. Trying it on. More concrete news and reflections in the near future.

Acceptance is a Beautiful Thing

2007-05-04T10:15:00.000-05:00

In a field full of rejection, there is nothing quite as sweet as getting an email that actually says, "You have been accepted." No "due to the exceptionally large number of applicants this year...", no "at this time we are not able to..." no "thank you for your interest in..." no alternates, no no's.

Just acceptance!

So, now I have something to look forward to this summer-Madeline Island Music Camp. It was one of the only summer programs that didn't conflict with my priorities for the summer- my job and two of my best friends' weddings. I get to play in a Woodwind Quintet (something I've never really done), work with the Fourth Horn player of the Chicago Symphony, and re-visit a beautiful place I first went to in 8th grade on a memorable vacation with my mom. She's even going to come up at the end and we're going to spend a few days together!

So, I'm enjoying acceptance for a few minutes. And then I have to listen to more takes of Mozart and put together a recording, get to FedEx to send off more applications, and try not to be too hopeful for more acceptances.

May Day! May Day!: An Inquiry

2007-05-01T14:05:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I feel like I am crashing, like I have no idea why I chose the profession I did, like I have no chance of succeeding at it, and like trying to play the horn at a high level is about the silliest thing I could ever attempt. I recorded Mozart's 3rd Horn Concerto this weekend to send to a few summer music festivals. I just listened to it.

This is usually when the crashing feeling sets in.

It's become necessary to attempt, in writing, to screw my head on straight once again, and approach this with a mature, reasonable, positive, productive, and cucumber (as in, "as cool as a") outlook. There were sooo many good things in this recording. My sound is much fuller, clearer, hornistic, and enjoyable than pre-embouchure change. My intonation is improving as well (related to the sound, they are one in the same, after all). I am starting to have a firm idea of what I want my Mozart to sound like- tempos, style, etc. My pianist did a pretty good job.

Moreover, it was probably 100 degrees in the room. The piano was junky. I changed my embouchure 2 months ago. My pianist has never accompanied a wind instrument before, nor played a Mozart orchestral reduction. The room wasn't exactly flattering sound-wise. But these are all excuses, and I'm sick of using them. In fact, I think my excuses have helped to hold me back in the last 6 years. I guess I'll have to add that to the To Do List: Stop using excuses.

So, all things considered, it was pretty good.

But whenever I hear a lemon note, an accidental wah-wah, a hiccup in a trill, whatever, I start to feel this impending dread, like maybe I'm not even really capable of being any sort of professional horn player.

*Insert self-slap-up-side-the-head here.*

I think we all go through these experiences of self-doubt. Musicians, med students, writers, dress-makers, gas-pumpers, everyone. What if we aren't any good at what we do? What if we shouldn't be doing it? What if everyone is laughing at us behind our back?

My answer to this has always been that it doesn't matter. Maybe I'm not any good. Maybe I shouldn't be doing it. People probably have laughed, are laughing, and will be laughing. But this is not why I'm trying to play music every day, for a living, for a life. As much as I hate to quote a movie with Nicholas Cage in it, I really love the quote from Adaptation, "We are not what loves us, we are what we love." And I really love playing the horn. I really love playing classical music. I really love all music. So I will continue to do it, lemon notes, laughing, excuses and all.

The crashing feeling has subsided substantially by this point.

A few months ago, a close family friend asked me some provoking questions about what it is I like so much about playing classical music. I liked his questions because they made me really think about it, question myself, and end up all the more sure of my answers.

First, he described a jazz performance he saw that he really enjoyed.

"And what I loved about it was that they were all playing -- I don't mean playing music, I mean playing, as one plays a game. They were playing with their instruments, not just playing their instruments, and they were playing like playmates -- bouncing stuff off each other as they went along, making musical jokes, being outrageous, challenging each other."

Next, he confronted me honestly and frankly.

"But it seems to me that the play ingredient isn't (can't be) present in classical orchestras, or probably even chamber music. And I was wondering how much fun could it possibly be, in comparison, to play classical music versus music where you could play and invent as you went along... I found myself thinking that it really couldn't be compare (as pure fun), no matter how good it sounded."

My personal reaction was surprisingly frantic. I wanted to shout, "nooooo! It IS as fun!"

First of all, I really love his description of the jazz performance. I love seeing that type of thing on stage. It really gets to the core of what musicians, or any artists I suppose, are trying to do- communicate. It's all about personal interaction- if it's not for that, it doesn't really work. It's true, in classical music, some of this personal communication is/has been lost. Put 80+ people on an elevated stage, put 'em in tuxes, put a guy with a big stick on a box in between them and the audience, dim the lights, require applause for this concertmaster-dude, whatever that is, honk a tuning note, require applause for the guy with the big stick, require silence, OK, now you can communicate and get something substantial.

It's a bit strange.

But I think it's really there. And something that big (a symphony orchestra performance of a work that's existed for decades to centuries) can't be exactly spontaneous.

The crashing has turned into more of a spinning now.

The other thing that comes to mind, is that classical music is really hard. I mean it's really not often very well done. But when it is well done, it is "outrageous, challenging, making musical jokes." I think Mozart and Haydn are hilarious. I mean, I have actually often laughed out loud when I hear their music. As I have with Berlioz, Stravinsky, Beethoven.

Part of it is understanding the context. The more I listen to classical music, learn about it, get to know it, the more I enjoy it. The more I hear. The more I take from it. The more I want more. It, and the kind of jazz my friend was describing, are the only genres of music I know that grow and grow for me. Don't get me wrong, I looooove pop music. Love it. Can't get enough. But I always want to find new artists, new songs, new albums. I can't listen to the same song 50 times and have each time be a new experience. You can't re-interpret a pop song many times and have it work (well, rarely, maybe Bob Dylan tunes).

I've often described classical music to my "laymen" (non-musician) friends in the following way: Classical Music is to Pop Music as a Novel is to a Magazine, a Masterpiece Play to a TV Show, a Gourmet Meal to a Big Mac, a Long-Term Relationship to a Fling. The latter is totally fun, great, entertaining, yummy, and fading. The former takes effort, focus, commitment, but ultimately is more intriguing, satisfying, and lasting.

I would say, when done really well, classical music "plays" a great deal. I'm reminded of the Principal Trumpeter of the Minnesota Orchestra telling me about performing The Messiah. The oboist changed the ornamentation every night- she would play a line with certain ornaments, and the trumpeter was supposed to copy exactly. Every night got more and more complicated. He just barely kept up, and was laughing and beaming more every time.

When a piece is really clicking, everything feels like play- passing off lines, fitting harmonies into melodies, making rhythms come alive. Beethoven dances. Brahms breathes. It's all there.

But it doesn't just play. Sometimes it weeps, screams, haunts. Sometimes it's quite ugly. Sometimes it's unpleasant to listen to. Sometimes it hurts. And I love that too. Because life isn't all play, and I don't wish it was.

So, I love classical music, and it's a love that has continued to grow since I decided I wanted to be a horn player when I was fourteen. I don't think it will ever cease to evolve. So I'll take it, self-doubt, personal imperfections, intonation problems and new embouchures included.

The crashing feeling has completely vanished, and I'm inspired once again.

I think I need to practice.

Alone Time

2007-04-29T19:26:00.000-05:00

I spent this afternoon alone and thoroughly enjoyed it (no offense CM and MT). I had the house to myself, so I decided to make a pizza from scratch and watch the New World Symphony webcast of Petrouchka (that orchestra roocks, btw, but I can't decide if I like Petrouchka).

I had actually been thinking about what it is to spend time alone a lot lately, and have been meaning to post about it ever since I found myself at a night club all by myself on Wednesday night. The thing was, I was supposed to meet up with a friend to go dancing, but when I got there he was there only to tell me that he had to leave. And I had invited another friend so I felt obligated to stick around in case she showed up. So next thing I knew, I was ordering myself a drink at my own table, withstanding the sort of strange looks coming from every direction.

At first I was quite self-conscious. I wished I had thought to wear some make up. I wished I had brought my cell phone so I could just text the friend and know at exactly what time she would show up. But as the minutes passed I started to actually feel confident, and it became painstakingly obvious that nobody really cared anyway (which is always the case, often times we just talk ourselves into thinking otherwise, no?!). I actually used to go dancing by myself a lot in the States, but of course, that was in a place where "going dancing" meant showing up to a place and actually being asked to dance all night. Here "going dancing" is more like going somewhere where it's dark and the music is really loud, shuffling around with the friends you showed up with, and maybe maybe maybe meeting one other person who probably won't be a good dancer anyway. But I used to get a really big kick out of showing up to a club by myself, dancing with a bunch of people, and then leaving by myself. It was like a reminder that the activity itself was really fulfilling to me, and I could partake in it in a sort of solitude amidst the socializing.

It seems to be that spending time with yourself and only yourself is not really accepted, or at least not often done, here. I never see people having coffee alone, eating alone, hardly even walking down the street alone. Perhaps in a culture which is much less high-paced it's not so common- there's always time to meet up with someone rather than just stopping for a quick bite on the way to the next thing.

But my alone time is really important to me. Maybe it's because I'm an only child so I grew up spending a lot of time by myself and I find it comforting. Maybe it's because I'm a musician so I've gotten used to being by myself for hours on end in the practice room. Maybe it's because I'm a very social person, but then I need to balance things out.

Up until 6 months ago, I had lived by myself for about 2 years. I didn't really want to do that anymore after a while here. It had gotten a bit tedious, especially here with all my new-found free time. So now I've got some pretty cool roommates, I really enjoy the company of the majority of my co-workers, and the last few months have brought a wave of new-and-not-in-the-orchestra friends as well. My social life is actually quite active here, and I'm not complaining. But I do think I am missing out on some of my previous usual alone time habits that gave me some peace of mind. Reading in coffee shops, going to concerts, even driving around in my car, singing along to whatever I chose and just being with my own thoughts.

I'm reminded of an occasion where a friend of mine had plans to go to the beach the next day and he said, "I'd really like to invite you, but I think I just need the day alone, even though I'd also really like to spend it with you." And that made sense to me.

So what is it that we really take away from spending time with Yours Truly? When I was in the disco, I felt like I found a new way to enjoy that scene, through observation. Instead of being in the middle of the whole thing, I could watch it from the outside and get a new perspective. To be honest, I found the whole thing pretty absurd. And it's good to get that some of the things you enjoy doing are pretty absurd.

I think when I'm alone I find a new kind of appreciation for things. It's a calming, pleasant sort of appreciation for just the experience of life. It's the knowledge that what's around me in itself is valuable, and no one else has to know about it. Like this afternoon I found chopping vegetables surprisingly satisfying. And that's refreshing.

I'm learning little by little that the people around me mean more to me than I used to admit. But I still maintain that ultimately, all we have is the relationship we have with ourselves. And that shows up in all of our other relationships as well. So it's important to nurture it, to give it attention, to make it a priority.

And then there's the other sort of appreciation you get when you can really share life experience with another, and it is enhanced by that sharing. And I've been having some moments of that as well, to be assured.

So it could be that, like so many other things, it's really about finding a balance. I've swung a little far to the social side in the last year, and I think it's time to get some more me-time in, withstand the strange looks and unjustified feelings of self-consciousness, and see what I discover.

Only 3:13 pm and I feel like I've learned a lot of stuff today.

2007-04-28T15:12:00.000-05:00

1) It is NOT a good idea to go out dancing until 4 in the morning when you have to work with children at 10 am the next day and make a recording at noon.

2) I can, however, survive the said situation.

3) Kids of ages 5 and 7 learn another language best through music, hands down. Show a bunch of pictures of fruits and repeat the names over and over? Nothing. Give it a melody (I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas, I like to eat eat eat (insert fruit shown on flashcard here)) and they are all over it in no time.

4) Always have change for a taxi.

5) How a particular event goes depends almost entirely on forethought.

6) You cannot get a good take of a Mozart concerto in a room with a tinny piano and no air conditioning in this place in April. Absolutely impossible.

7) Half step, whole step, half step is a cool lick on a dominant-seven chord in a jazz tune.

8) There is actually such a thing as a heat so intense that you cannot sleep, breathe or think.

OK, that last one was an exaggeration, but I need to attempt to describe the climate to those of you who haven't a clue.

Orquesta Filarmónica del Patrimonio Mundial

2007-04-24T12:16:00.001-05:00

Remember that period where I was complaining a lot a few weeks ago? This is what I was participating in. Let the understanding begin.

Moving on Up

2007-04-20T13:21:00.000-05:00

Well, we're finally all settled in at our new house. This is my fourth place of residence in this city (already?!?) and I can definitely see each place has been an improvement. And I'm completely enamored with this one. (See pictures) It's colorful, cool, quiet, spacious, and distinct. My favorite things are the dining room floor (tiles with grapes on them), the tamarind tree outside my door (see picture at left), and the convenient store across the street.

Something happens to me whenever I move into a new house. First, I get obsessed about organizing it; I can't practice, eat, or do anything really at all, until it's all arranged. Then, at the beginning, I become a total perfectionist- wanting everything to be clean and flawless. I feel the
mentality spill over into my life too. It's refreshing because I feel like I'm starting anew (and this time I'm going to do it all the right way), but it's also entirely delusional.

In fact, I've always felt this pendulum within myself, sometimes swinging wider than others. On one side is the calm, collected, boring, predictable, organized, clean person that does everything well, without rushing or cramming. On the other side is the slightly crazy, more creative, spontaneous, fast-paced person that never really finishes projects and is always too busy to do her best. I never feel like I really

have a balance, I'm always on one side or the other. One side feels artistic and alive but overwhelmed and stressed out. The other feels a bit dull, but calm and satisfied and on top of my stuff.

Perhaps there's nothing wrong with this. Perhaps we are all a bit manic-depressive. Perhaps it's even healthy. Perhaps it's the waning and waxing of the moon.

Whatever it is, I will attest that I think it's evening out as I grow older. In fact, I feel productive and organized and fun and spontaneous at the same time more often than not down here. Now if I could only figure out how to be all that, and get back into an intense practice routine that will soon become necessary...

More about that, the future, that is, later. For now, the present is pretty great. Beautiful house, beautiful weather, good friends, today I had a good rehearsal with my accompanist and spent some time with a pretty cool (ok, really fantastic) guy, it's Friday, and MT is making fish tacos and we're going to crack open a bottle of white wine...ahhh...

Friday the 13th: An Excuse to Write About Beliefs

2007-04-13T15:36:00.000-05:00

CM, my roomie, never believed in Friday the 13th before. Now he says he does.

It's true, it's pretty bad luck to have a flat tire on your car, a broken pedal on your bike, a cancellation of plans to change houses, and a frozen computer screen all in one day. But does this really change what we believe?

I don't know if I believe in things like Friday the 13th. Based on today, I would say no way, as it's been a really great day (so far...). In fact, I don't know what I believe in in general. I've been thinking about my beliefs a lot in the past week, month, season, and I think it's about time I put some of my thoughts down on virtual paper. This is more an exercise in personal exploration, but perhaps it will contribute something to readers too.

I don't know if I believe in God; I don't know if I believe in astrology; I don't know if I believe in ghosts. Of course all of this matters not because I don't believe in them, but because I think I might believe in them and I'm just not certain.

Anne Lamott says, in her Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, a book I recently read that really got me thinking, "...the opposite of faith isn't doubt, it's certainty. Certainty is missing the point entirely. Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort, and letting it be there until the light returns. Faith also means reaching deeply within, for the sense one was born with..."

For much of high school and college I would respond to the infamous question, "What religion are you?" with "Agnostic." I always explained, "Religion doesn't seem that important to me right now, although I imagine it will be later." I don't know why that explanation made sense, but it did at the time. I had no desire to attend church, I never thought much about spirituality, and I was OK with that, and a pretty happy person besides.

Growing up, I had a variety of role models in this area. My grandparents on both sides were traditionally Christian, thought not fanatic. My mother has always been quite spiritual, but not so into organized religion. My father has always been pretty interested in the intellectual side of it all, suggesting reading The Bible, interested in mythology and history, of which religion is definitely a part, but not so strict on the faith aspect. I've had friends all across the gamut- evangelical to actually anti-religion. Although I'll admit I'm generally more comfortable with those on the "a" side (agnostic, atheist, anti), I also have a tremendous respect for those with faith. I feel almost an envy for them, in fact.

So, for many years, I've been agnostic, leaning atheist. But now I feel myself changing...leaning more towards believing, or at least having a desire to believe. And as I open myself to this, I'm discovering what I think I would call God, if God has a presence in this world as we currently know it. And so I present this idea with an absolute humility, cluelessness, and decent dose of skepticism.

I think he/she presents him/herself in different ways for different people, but always is manifested as this extreme joy. For me, this shows up in self-expression (music, words, art), in uninhibited happiness and silliness (parties and dancing) , in beauty (sunrises, rainstorms, oceans, mountains, people, smiles), in the coming together of people (falling in love, finding new friends, sharing experiences). If there is God in anything, it is in those things.

So, what do I have faith in? Can I say I have faith in God yet? No. Am I considering it? I guess. And if it's true, that doubt isn't the opposite of faith, but certainty is, what can I say I have faith in, given doubt can be a part of it? I have faith in music. In my family. In myself. In laughter. In sunrises. Come to think of it, I have faith in a lot of the things I listed as what I would call a presence of God in the world. Does this equal a faith in God? I suppose it might.

As I read over this, I'm wondering why I decided to go out on a limb and write this post. Maybe this one was better intended for the journal. But this is like a journal that writes back, sometimes. Or maybe it starts dialogues. Or gets people thinking. Or just puts it out there. Whatever it is, I guess I deemed it worthy, so there you have it.

Something to Write Home About

2007-04-12T11:47:00.000-05:00

Now that I've lived here just over 13 months, the "adventure-factor" of my re-location project has worn off a bit.

Well, a lot. I laughed pretty hard when I was in NYC a few months ago, and my friend's roommate, upon hearing that I live in Mexico, asked me what my life was likethere. I started to explain that my work schedule was light, and I don't need a car, and it's really hot, things that for me seem important about my way of life down here. He proceeded to say, "No, no, like the way of life. Don't you eat huevos rancheros every morning and converse with the señoras?" I had to laugh. My life here is different, but not that different. And I like it that way. I like being able to go to the market and buy the best mango you can imagine for 40 cents, but also being able to go to Home Depot if it's absolutely necessary. OK, I've never actually been to Home Depot, but it's nice to know it's there. My point is that I still have my normal life here, I mean it's really not that different. What, with wireless internet, it's more advanced than I was in WI. But, the potential for exoticism is much higher.

I'm rambling. Let me get back to the point.

So the adventure-factor has worn off, but it appeared again two days ago, when I called a new found friend, R, (who's not in the orchestra, yeah!) to see if he wanted to go get a drink or something, and he responded, "I'm in Izamal, do you want to come?" I was a bit taken aback at his quick invitation, since we've just recently met (I don't even know is last name to give him proper initial status on my blog!) but instead of going on the defense, I decided to "go with the flow," as they say. The next day after my rehearsal, I found myself on a second class bus to Izamal, a lovely colonial town about 6o km east of here. It's one of my favorite places on the peninsula, and I was excited to see it again.

R is an archaeologist, and he was working on a new site just outside of Izamal, the remnants of some Mayan ruins and colonial architecture from the early Spanish settlers. A far too frequent occurence, when the Spanish arrived they used stones from the already constructed, sacred Mayan pyramids to build their own churches and altars. This results in a striking architectural juxtaposition- a blatant symbol of the relations, and conflicts, between the two cultures that in many ways still exist today.

When I arrived in Izamal, I sat in the plaza for a while, waiting for R to get off work and give me a call. It's called "The Yellow City" because the whole town is painted this subdued shade of yellow, from the huge convent in the middle of town to all the businesses and houses on the side streets. Everything yellow. It has quite an effect. There are two attractive plazas in town, on either sides of this amazingly large convent, where again you can clearly see how the convent was built right on top of the base of a pyramid.

A beat up, government-owned truck pulled up after a bit, and R jumped out, with his torn up jeans, big floppy hat, filthy from head to toe, with a gleam in his eye from doing what he really is passionate about. He was bouncing off the walls: "We go to eat and then we go the site!" Honestly, I had had no idea what to expect, I didn't even realize he was going to take me to where he was working when I agreed to make the visit, but I loved the idea. I was just along for the ride.

We piled in the cab of the truck, me squeezed between R and his boss, "Sledge Hammer" (that's seriously his nick name). We grabbed some food and then headed down a less known road into what seemed to me as the middle of nowhere. We turned onto a path I wouldn't have even noticed if I had been on my own and continued quite a ways into the jungle-like brush. Finally we arrived at the site, that looked only slightly more developed than the terrain we had covered to get there. They have just begun excavating, so it really was still quite authentic, the ruins as they exist today, virtually untouched.

"The Sledge" has got to be one of the more knowledgeable men I have ever met. He took me through every area of the site, explaining the history, the traditions, the excavating process, the cultural connotations, the challenges. He could tell me where there was grave site based on the shape of rocks, he showed me a piece of ancient flute he had come across, he shared the legends, Mayan and Catholic, and he explained the process of his own work. I was basically enthralled, and felt quite privileged to see this still off-limits site, at the beginning of the project. My favorite part was the colonial walls, built by the Spanish out of the pyramid stones, now overgrown with massive tree roots which over time have become a part of the wall. Although little by little destroying the wall, they are also now the only thing keeping it erect. Indigenous culture, "civilized" culture, nature, all tangled up together.

The last part of the tour meant climbing up a pyramid, which just looked like a hill it was so covered. Actually, did you know there are no hills in this area? The land itself is so entirely flat, anything that you think is a hill is actually pyramid ruins.

Eventually we headed back to town. I enjoyed the ride back, lodged between these two guys whose worlds are so completely foreign to me. That's one stereotype of Mexicans confirmed, in my view, to be true. They are so open and inviting, that even in a situation in which you are so terribly out of place, you can somehow feel comfortable. So I sat there and took in their talk of politics, food, family, and religion, not saying much, but just enjoying the change of pace.

When we got back into town we took a rest in the house they stay in while doing these projects, it's a little house right next to one of the main pyramids of Izamal (there are at least 4 major reconstructed pyramids in the town). Before returning, we just needed to make one stop so "Sledge" could fill up his water tanks. When we stopped, he introduced R as the Mexican archaeologist he is, and then me, as an American archaeologist specializing in something or other visiting to complement her research. I bit my tongue and laughed extensively inside. Who knows why he said that, but it was pretty funny.

The evening consisted of horchata, tacos al pastor, and a chance presentation of folk dances from all over Mexico that was happening that night. There in the plaza, surrounded by yellow buildings, the evening breeze finally coming through, watching the dancers in their brilliant costumes, filled with an energy that comes from that very rhythmic style of dance, I felt lucky to have this part of the world be a memory I'll always have.

The day had worn me out, so we turned in a bit early (for Mexican standards). They had an extra hammock, so I crashed in the back room. Unfortunately, I was too exhausted to take advantage of being inside the locked-at-night gate of the pyramid. We could have climbed it at night and gotten the nocturnal view, but I could barely stand up, much less consider the prospect of climbing multiple stairs.

The last part of the journey is worth mentioning as well. As I had to work at 8:30 the next morning, I took a 6 am combi (a mini van, direct ride) into the city, to arrive on time. When I went up to the ticket booth at 5:50, before the sun had come up, I realized that naturally, the route existed to bus in laborers from the country, essentially, into the city to work for the day. So I boarded the bus sticking out like a tall, white, female sore thumb, and just took a deep breath and accepted it. It's amazing that after all this time abroad, I still feel incredibly self conscious in those situations. Those guys must have been thinking, "What in the world is this gringa doing?" But I feel asleep quickly, and next thing I knew, I was back.

I'm pretty sure that for most of my life thus far, if that opportunity had arised, I would have had a bunch of excuses and not gone. When really, the only thing, is that I was out of my comfort zone for about 18 hours straight. And that's a long time, in fact, I think that's why I was so exhausted at the end of it. But it left me with two invaluable things: an intense pleasure at getting back into my comfort zone, and a comfort zone that's a little bit bigger in the end.

I've never been one for routines, in fact it's perhaps sort of a downfall, having chosen a profession that may depend on them (I'm referring to practicing, mostly). But this experience reminded me why- when we get into patterns, we becoming a bit numb, as if we aren't even really here. And when all of the sudden we are jolted out of them, it's like we wake up into what is this life- things are brighter, more flavorful, more vibrant. And that's what I'm looking for.

So maybe I can keep the adventure factor up. Actually, I had another silly experience involving recording a Bach cello suite in a rock band studio, and an evening of driving around in a car that hardly ran with no license plates, so I guess I'm doing just fine.

This One Takes The Biscuit

2007-04-06T21:05:00.000-05:00

This is a phrase my co-worker JD likes to use a lot. In case you're unfamiliar, continue reading.

Between two years of YOA, a year playing here, and all the other things that seem to come up, I've had some pretty ridiculous gig experiences. But this one really takes the biscuit.

We arrived at some complex that reminded me of a high school football game around 6 pm yesterday evening. We were supposed to do a "sound check" and then wait around about 3 hours before playing the state anthem of this place.

After having a full free day at an all-inclusive hotel, no one was exactly in a state to play any sort of note on their instrument, but we all knew that ASN (director) wouldn't really notice the difference anyway. We ran through three of the silliest pieces every actually bothered to be orchestrated, and then settled in for our wait.

That was going to be interminable enough, but what actually ended up happening was much worse. At about 9:00 it started to drizzle, 9:15 it was definitely raining, and at 9:30 the winds had picked up and it was really starting to pour. It seemed that at one exact moment all the musicians, who were killing time in various clumps spread out around the complex, realized they did not feel comfortable leaving their instruments on a teetery-temporary-stage under a nearby tarp. We all simultaneously rushed the stage to snag our instruments and get back to somewhat substantial shelter and found ourselves in a bit of a traffic jam.

As we fought through microphone cords, percussion equipment, and heavy rain being blown from all directions, it became apparent that the tarp above was completely full of water, and about to break from the weight.

Chaos ensued. That's sort of a cliche, but it's the only thing I can think to write that really describes the experience.

People started yelling "Move to that side, this thing is going to break." As if on cue, at that moment, the wind hit the other tarp just right and it came unhooked, blowing up with a big woosh and starting whipping around. That really helped the chaos ensuing, what with the sound effects and all. Over made-up singers tried to rush down stairs in their too-high-heels, bassists frantically packed up their instruments, and everyone wondered where the tubist was, why he hadn't bothered to put his instrument in its case, if he was coming back any time soon, and whose responsibility it was in the meantime to get his instrument out of the almost-hurricane.

We finally got to shelter, more or less, and heard through the grape vine that we wouldn't actually be performing after all. Lovely.

I forgot to mention that during all this locura the mayor of the city was giving his annual address, quite a formal affair. Amps were buzzing and audiences were getting soaked, but he didn't skip a beat, just continued in the monotonous, and just every once in awhile animated, tone that seems to be the norm for these things.

After more running through the rain and waiting in the rain, the buses finally arrived to take us back to our all-inclusive, incredibly nice resort on the Caribbean. A big buffet, a bottle of red wine, a good chat with some great old and new friends, and some strolling on the coast quickly made get over the bad mood the whole thing had put me in, but oh man.

Oh, and I almost forgot. The icing on the cake came on the bus ride home. The contractor for the gig had stayed behind to continue his vacation once he got us on our buses. About an hour into the bus ride, the bus driver informed us that he had been instructed to take the "Libre" route, which stops in every pueblo and takes about 7 hours, as opposed to the "Cuota" route, which is a free way that takes about 5 hours. The contractor hadn't given the three buses the toll money. After working with this guy the past month, I'm almost certain that was an intentional move to make out with 5o extra bucks. When the bus driver explained the predicament, and offered us the option of each chipping in a bit to take the Cuota and get back home 2 hours earlier, my friend RG put it best: "Just one question. Are you kidding???"

I'm happy to say the Patrimnio is over, and I've survived. And it seems that maybe the best things can come out of the worst things after all...more on that later, perhaps.

Would a Gig by Any Other Name Smell as Sweet?

2007-03-27T07:32:00.001-06:00

The last few weeks have by consumed by this ridiculous gig and consequently, my brain has been consumed by this question...where do I draw the line?

I'm not sure that I've ever said "no" to a gig, unless it conflicted with another gig. And even then I hem and haw and try to come up with a way to do it all, until I finally admit it's impossible and say no. When I started freelancing in Madison I just wanted to play every chance I got, and any pay was better than no pay (i.e. school), and every gig introduced me to more people which introduced me to more gigs! I always got something out of every gig too, whether it was great sight-reading experience, playing a Brahms symphony for the first time, or getting to know a great horn player a little better through the carpooling process.

I know many musicians who have reached some sort of line where they start saying no to gigs. I think a lot of my colleagues reached it this weekend. This point comes for different reasons- maybe a big life change, maybe the proverbial "last straw" or maybe just starting to have enough good gigs that they can't stand the bad ones.

I'm reminded of Ren's arrival at this point a little over a year ago:

"So here it is, a little early, but my New Years Resolution:

NO MORE SHITTY GIGS.

It might be that I can't afford NOT TO take these gigs, but in the long run, I don't think I can afford TO TAKE them. Right now, I love playing horn, and I don't want to lose that.

As MMG puts it, there are three rules to taking a gig, and the gig needs to fit two of them in order to take it:
1) It is INCREDIBLY lucrative. (And any gig that lucrative probably has some good people playing)
2) It is a really great experience. ("Gurrelieder? I've never played that, and probably never will again!") (Or, "Adam Unsworth, Cindy Carr, Doug Hill, and Froydis Wekre are all in the section but we can't afford to pay you, will you do it?" "Of course!")
3) Its REALLY easy. (i.e. It is across the street and I can show up in my pajamas.)"

This is an important transtion in any musician's life. I don't know if I'm there yet, but I know that I'm on my way.

I've never said no to a gig (oh wait, there was that one where I would have had to fly back to Mexico three days early from Christmas vacation, meaning being in airports all day on my 23rd birthday, paying an extra $50 for a plane ticket, and missing out on two more days with the family and friends I see twice a year. It paid $100. I seriously considered it.) and I had never played a gig I regretted...until now. I think. But I'm not sure. It may be I would do it all over again. Or maybe not. I'm confused. That's why I'm blogging about it.

OK, let me try to recreate this particular gig that may have pushed me over the edge for you.

First of all, it definitely does not meet 2 out of 3 of Ren's requirements. In fact, it's batting 0 for 3 if you interpret the "incredibly" in "incredibly lucrative" literally.

Hm, I just realized that words cannot possibly describe what I withstood. Perhaps this will serve my purpose better, especially for you horn players that so faithfully read my blog. Please look carefully to understand the kinds of things we were supposed to be playing. Especially important are the treble clef or bass clef signs. Oh, also, everything was at a pretty fast tempo. And although I've included a few examples, there were pages and pages and pages of this stuff, and it basically all sounded exactly the same.

These last two are from a piece we saw for the first time at the sound check about an hour before the concert.

And because I know you're wondering, yes, there is indeed an Agua I and II.

OK, add to that a total &#^%$ of a conductor, three separate long bus rides and overnights in mediocre hotels, and absolutely no sort of dependable organization, and you ask yourself, is this actually what I want to be doing with any single moment of my life?

But then, you think of the amount of money, and you think you will tolerate it. For all the above, I will receive in total 8600 pesos, or around $860. OK, before you write me off as entirely crazy and self-respect-less, let me remind you that for me that is almost half a year's rent. So it's a decent chunk of change. But still.

During one of those interminable bus rides I began to think: if someone offered me 8200 pesos to bus me all over the peninsula, put me up and give me bad food to dig ditches, would I do it? Of course not. But the work I did do was basically manual labor- I needed to sit in my seat and move the parts of my body necessary to play the notes on the page (sort of, I didn't play a lot of them and it didn't seem to bother anyone). And yet, it was a gig.

And musicians are addicted to gigs. We aren't supposed to say no to them. I'm not even sure why that's so anymore, but it is, you are never supposed to say no to a gig. So, I ask again, where do I draw the line?

This time around, I can say it was worth it because it put the horn on my face at least twice as much in the last few weeks, and having just changed my embouchure, that was actually invaluable. However, next time? Is there any reason to do it but the cash? If it's just the cash, is that enough? How much is enough?

I certainly didn't go into music to make money. In fact, my mentality for the last 8 years has been "I'm going to have to spend a great deal of my life working to earn money. I want to be working in something that doesn't feel like work to me, something that I would do for free, so when the money shows up, it's like a special (and coincidentally necessary) bonus." I check in with that mentality every month or so, and so far I'm still living by it. But doing it only for the money doesn't really line up with that philosophy.

Since I'm an incessant optimist, I will say that there were plenty of good things about the gig. Sitting next to BP on a bus for 12 hours+ total was mostly really fun. I ate some really amazing tacos at a rest stop. There was one piece that began with an improvised go-crazy-and-make-lots-of-noise part in which I danced around wearing a luchador mask while my colleagues played conk shells really loud. I spent one morning drinking a pina colada and laying by a pretty nice pool. But overall, doing the gig was really horrible.

So...was it worth the money? Or, even better, is any horrible musical experience worth the money? And will I do it again?

!@^&^@#$^%&^%@&^#

2007-03-27T00:12:00.001-06:00

Chamber Music is Life. The Rest is Just Details.

2007-03-24T12:49:00.000-06:00

Remember those T-shirts? They were usually for football or hockey or something, but why not chamber music? The thing is, chamber music really is life.

I better clarify.

I don't mean to say that chamber music is all I care about in life. In fact, one of the big things I have learned in the past year is that music is not my whole life, and that I don't want it to be. (This was still up in the air in undergrad.) Music is what I want to spend a lot of my life doing, but it can't actually make me happy. In attempts to steer clear of sounding like a Chicken Soup for the Soul paragraph, I will leave that at that for now.

My point is that chamber music is a great metaphor for life, and a great isolated example of how life really goes. Which is why it can be insanely difficult and frustrating sometimes, and also can be just about the most satisfying and exhilarating thing you can do.

First, it never goes as you think it should. I always have this idea in my head about how this should sound, and it never sounds quite that way. (In actuality, it probably sounds better than it ever could in my head.) Whenever I hold tightly to my shoulds I find my colleagues looking at me sideways because I'm rushing or dragging or playing too flat or too soft. When I let go of my shoulds I usually discover a nice musical moment, and friends, rather than enemies.

To go along with that, it never sounds like you think it does. As BP and I have been discussing lately, it sounds so totally different in the audience than it does to us on stage, that there is absolutely no point in evaluating your own playing at the moment it is happening, or the playing of those sitting next to you, for that matter. Kind of like when you tell a joke that is unbelievably hilarious inside your head, and then nobody laughs. Or you think someone is very angry with you and you find out they have long forgotten about that little thing you thought they took so personally. Turns out you just have to be, or do, your best, and cross your fingers. Recording yourself and being open to feedback is good too.

I find myself functioning in my chamber music groups as I function in life. When things get rough, I fold inward. I try to take some blame, but not responsibility, and I get shy. I get confused and wishy-washy and limp. I turn into this other person inside of myself. (JD and I had a nice exchange of ideas about how maybe we have many different people inside ourselves and they sort of take turns coming to the surface. Can you tell we've been spending a lot of time on long bus rides lately?) This person is someone I would never want to hang out with, much less play chamber music with. It's also the same person that freaks out for awhile when a guy doesn't call her back, or that cries when her dentist tells her she hasn't been flossing enough (I actually did that once! Don't worry, I was 10 years old, I think. )

When things are good, things are good, and don't need analysis. :)

What keeps me positive and committed (in chamber music and life) is the realization that everyone is doing the very best they can. Truly. This does not mean they are playing in tune or keeping their calm or sitting up straight or not changing rehearsal times. But they are doing the best they can in that moment and that is worth everything. And I really believe that.

Every chamber music group I have ever played in has had its share of problems. I think it's because chamber music is intimate, and intimacy means vulnerability, which freaks people out, brings out their best and their worst, and makes people weird.

Chamber music is the most wonderful musical thing to do, as so so many musicians would agree. And I think it's because chamber music is intimate, and intimacy is a thing we lack in an orchestra where we're being told exactly what to do, and in a world where we strive to be successful and comfortable, and sometimes forget about being happy along the way.

I'll Tell You What I Want, What I Really Really Want

2007-03-20T16:38:00.000-06:00

I want an orchestra job in a city that has a Musician's Union.

And I wanna really really really wanna zigga-zig-ah.

All I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Professionalism

2007-03-19T17:01:00.000-06:00

It seems to me we learned these principles when we were five years old and we've spent the rest of our lives forgetting them and wishing others would remember them.

1. Share everything.
2. Play fair.
3. Don't hit people.
4. Put things back where you found them.
5. Clean up your own mess.
6. Don't take things that aren't yours.
7. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
8. Wash your hands before you eat.
9. Flush.
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
11. Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
12. Take a nap every afternoon.
13. When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
15. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.

Around these parts, they've got #1 and #12 down pat.

#2, 4, 5, 6, and 13 could use some serious work.

let it go let it go let it go let it go let it go let it go let it go let it go let it go

Let It Go

2007-03-14T22:51:00.000-06:00

Why is it that I cannot for the life of me remember how to use my air? Why do I feel the need to contort my face, adjust my hand position, use alternate fingerings, maneuver my slides, change my mouthpiece, on and on, before remembering to take a good breath and let the air flow through the horn, which always solves about 85% of the problems?!?

I had a glimmer of a really great sound today. In the moment it appeared I really felt myself let go. In that moment I realized I had been holding on.

Holding on is always negative. Nobody likes to be told "Hold on a sec." We're taught as toddlers that it's not healthy to "hold it." Everybody hates being put "on hold." "Holding a grudge" is one of the worst vices. And holding in air is the nemesis of all brass players.

So my mantra for awhile is Let It Go. Let the air go through the horn. As a result, I should be taking in more of it. This leads to a really nice sound that I think is quite possible now that I've gotten my lower lip out of hiding.

Fortunately, Let It Go works for life too. Latest guy didn't work out? Let it go. Spring Break Plans fell through? Let it go. Application for summer festival never arrived to destination thanks to shitty Mexican mail system? Let it go.

It's a hell of a lot better than holding on to it and making myself miserable. And it's really a lovely sound. :)

Dubya Bush is Coming to Town

2007-03-13T08:44:00.000-06:00

On my bike ride to work last night I encountered a barricade that spanned at least a mile of Calle 60. I woke up to helicopters flying over my house this morning. I've seen a number of people covered in body paint holding "Kill Bush" signs lately.

Having GWB in town isn't a positive experience, I would say. We don't even get a gig out of it.

If anything, it's saddening.

The most striking thing I've seen so far due to Bush's arrival, was on my bike ride home from work last night. As I approached the Monument to the Flag, I thought it looked different. When I got closer I realized why- it was surrounded completely by shoulder-to-shoulder militia men, holding large bullet-proof plastic shields. They were standing somberly, looking straight ahead, motionless, as still as the humid air, while night fell around them, protecting their most important monument. I wondered how long they had been standing there.

I continued on about a block and realized why their presence was necessary. I suddenly found myself in the midst of a protest. I wished I had had a sign myself that read, "Yes, I'm obviously an American. But I live and work here and I hate him as much as you do." Instead, I decided to keep up the pace, as I was getting more than the usual amount of strange sideways glances.

The protest was fairly disorganized-it looked as if they were thinking about having a parade, but there were more stragglers than people in the group. As I passed another barricade I heard what sounded to me like gun shots, in my slightly on-edge state of mind. I soon realized that it was just some particularly animated protesters, kicking the metal barricades and shouting. It made a truly awful sound, and yet was neither violent nor productive. There were a lot of people holding "Pinche Bush" signs or the like. Bush was a few blocks away, probably dining peacefully and talking about what "hard work" it is to be President and pontificating about his "culture of life." (That is his catch-phrase that I absolutely detest most.)

Generally, my bike ride home from work (English classes) is one of the best parts of my day. Things have finally cooled down, I've finished my obligations for the day, and I have that post-teaching I-contributed-and-got-a-good-response-out-of-some-teenagers buzz. I like putting my iPod on shuffle and getting really into whatever pops up, as I bike down the most beautiful street in this city and enjoy knowing that my house is one block away from it. Something about that and the breeze always make a little reflective as well.

So last night, I had a lot to be reflective about. The image of this huge barricade around any streets remotely close to Potus' (thank you West Wing) hotel struck me as a giant metaphor for politics in our world today. A huge leader (please note that huge is not intended with positive connotations) comes to town, and the most anyone can do to participate is fruitlessly kick a giant piece of metal repeatedly. Such is the system, no? Our leaders are off quarantined in some highly secure area, making decisions, or not, to get re-elected, to nab some political deal, or to vote with the party. We get our impression of it through the filter of the media, be it liberally or conservatively biased, and make our judgments accordingly. When a big shot actually does come around, we are kept far far away for the fear of assassination, anthrax, or even bad press. The people are separated from their leaders and the leaders are separated from their people. The whole experience is one of complete detachment. Where is the representation, community, exchange of ideas and possibility that politics is supposed to be? The only things from the visit that affect you are the detours and helicopter noise. No wonder nobody votes. (I understand that I'm describing an international visit, but domestic visitis strike me as the same, if not worse.)

I, for one, have voted every chance I've had since I turned 18, out of the principal of the thing. And because I have to believe it makes a difference. But sometimes I just don't know.

Exhaustion

2007-03-05T23:31:00.000-06:00

Tonight I am exhausted in every way, emotionally from too much self-reflection, mentally from too much intense conversation in Spanish and the news that the YOA 2007 tour has been cancelled and ML has resigned, physically from embouchure-changing, and socially from crazy gigs and group dynamics.

There is so much to write about, I find myself writing yet again, that I don't know where to begin. I am so grateful for the fullness of my life, the excitement, the variety, and the sometimes surreal bizarreness.

For now, I leave you this quote. More later muchachos y muchachas.

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." -Anais Nin

What's the Best Way to Change Your Embouchure?

2007-03-03T10:36:00.000-06:00

Play 2nd horn on a Dances of the World concert surrounded by a very supportive and understanding section.

Seriously, last night was good for me, albeit fairly embarrassing. There is a lot to be said for not having a choice, and consequently making it work. I am at the point where I put the mouthpiece in the new position automatically, so that is good. What I had to do last night was trust it, and really think about my air. Also, for the first time, my corners have a big effect. They also get tired really fast. :) The final thing, I think, is remembering to put my chin out to keep the anchor on my bottom lip and get my lips even. And not too much pressure on the upper lip. Oh, and counting rests and remember accidentals is important too, which is easy to forget when you're obsessed with one square inch of flesh.

I'm lucky to sit second to a laid back guy that treats me like his little sister, kitty-corner from an understanding guy that can empathize and knows how much better I will sound on the other end, and in front of a humble guy that doesn't mind hearing a bunch of splee-ahs.

It's a good time to be doing this, since we are about to play a ballet with a guest conductor, which means we will just be running it for the next week, and there are a lot of gigs lately, so I have the horn on my face a lot. I can't stop when I get frustrated and I have to try to play in tune and hit notes in the center from the beginning. The music we've been doing is not too challenging technically, and the majority of my part is in the core range that I want to develop first anyhow.

The biggest down side to yesterday evening was that our hopefully-conductor-to-be was in the audience. It was terribly exciting to see him out there, because we think it means he's in town negotiating. It was also a bummer because I knew he would notice that we as a section did not sound as good as last time, and that would be my fault. But I suspect his mind was elsewhere, for the most part.

Hey Spot. You may be right. But how about this? If I didn't have an anchor on my bottom lip, then I was making some sort of "anchor" on my upper lip, cutting off all those vibrations AND not getting anything from below. Blah blah blah. The point is, it sounds better this way. And I'm doing just fine, thanks. :)

TMI (Too Much Information): The Embouchure

2007-02-28T12:39:00.000-06:00

You know what the best part about playing fourth horn in an orchestra is?

Getting to play fourth horn in the horn quartet.

I am very lucky to play in the section here. Not only do they kick butt at playing the horn, but we all get along. I mean really, how often does that happen? On top of that, they all contribute so much and are some of the best teachers I've encountered.

Last night we sightread a piece by my colleague, WJM and it is incredibly beautiful. I'm looking forward to working it up to performance level and hopefully getting an opportunity to perform it. I am astounded at his talent.

This evening JD is going to come over to help me sort out this embouchure thing. He went through the same thing a few years ago, and he's smart, so I think he will have a lot to offer. On Day 1 and 1/2 of this thing, I am thinking it is the right thing.

Horn player details: I'm finding an anchor on my bottom lip that I never had before because the lower lip was tucked so far under. I think I did this because I used to play with the mouthpiece 1/3 upper, 2/3 lower, the opposite, of what it should be, so when I moved it up I brought the lower lip up as well. Then, when I had to learn to play high it got me by. Unfortunately, doing this means I pin my upper lip and eventually, when I'm at all tired or sometimes when I'm not, the upper lip just quits vibrating and the notes don't come out. On top of that, the aperture is severely obstructed denying me a clear sound and making me work a lot harder than I should. Besides, I'm missing out on 1/3 of the possible vibrations since my lower lip is not in the picture at all.

I can definitely get through the next 3 weeks (playing 2nd on the Dances of the World program and 4th on a ballet) no problem with the new embouchure. And I think by then it should feel normal and I will be at least close to the level I was playing at before, with a lot more room to grow. Hopefully the brass quintet and the horn quartet and the roomies will understand in the transition period. It'll be over by the Ka'na Yaan concert on March 29th, I promise.

Was considering delaying this change for after our week off, but I might as well not wait. After all, there's no time like the present!

Next on C de C: Swooning and What's the Real Classical Music? per request of good friends.

Unfortunately they'll have to wait as there has been no swooning this week due to economics exams on one end and grant applications on the other and I lost the inspiration to think about what's happening to classical music in our society. AD, maybe you'd like to guest-blog about this one?

OK, OK, List of Questions.

2007-02-26T22:50:00.000-06:00

These are my questions.

1) Carlos Chavez Horn Quartet?
2) Fandango by Kerry Turner?
3) Buying orchestra parts for concerto?
4) Contemporary piece for horn and piano by Latin American composer?

Thanks.

Oh, the things I could write about.

2007-02-26T22:07:00.000-06:00

I'm having a hard time focusing tonight. My brain is flooded and overwhelmed with all the things I could write about.

I could write about how not only did my maternal grandparents move from their house to assisted living this weekend, but my step-mother's mother also moved in with my dad and her. This would prompt some reflection on aging, family, and the tremendous amount of admiration and love I feel for my parents.

I could write about how my roommate MT is practicing for tomorrow's first rehearsal and her part alone sounds incredibly like the Addam's Family Theme.

I could write about how I am dating someone in a normal way (we both live in the same city, want to be dating, and introduce each other to our friends and stuff) for the first time in...oh...about 6 years. This would prompt far too much reflection on why I have been avoiding this for the last part or, or basically my whole, life, and what I am confronted by and learning about myself in the process. It would also prompt some swooning.

I could write about this nut-so woman I met at FedEx today, who begged me to be her friend as she is new to this city, and in the same breath told me she assumed since I'm an artist I'm into astrology charting and in the same breath told me about how interested in transvestites she is, among about twenty other things.

I could write about whether I should change my embouchure or not. This would prompt an analysis of my sound, note clarity, high range ability, and some questions about how to do this while having a job and making a lot of plans for the summer and how to do it without a teacher.

I could write about how I made cinnamon rolls from scratch this weekend and it was really fun and then my kitchen proceeded to get entirely infested with ants.

I could write about the party I went to last night, where a great cellist shared a private performance of Bach's First Cello Suite, old-fashioned "salon music" style, and afterwards we feasted and enjoyed each other's company. This would prompt some doubt about what has happened to classical music in our world. About what the purpose of music really is, and wondering if that has been lost in all the mess of tickets and tuxedos and contracts and seasons. Or if it's still there and we just don't realize it since it's our job.

Hmmm...let's see, we've got reflection, swooning, analysis, and doubt, amidst some decent one-liners. Somebody pick and I'll try to write about it.

P. S. Horn players--does anyone have or know where to get a) Carlos Chavez Quaret for Horns and b) Fandango by Kerry Turner? And how does one go about purchasing the orchestra parts for a horn concerto?

It's Not About the Audition

2007-02-21T23:25:00.000-06:00

I went to NYC for an audition this weekend. I traveled 12 hours, one way and spent $100+ and 35,000 frequent flyer miles total. I played a total of 10 minutes, well 7 probably--3 of them I was either emptying water, breathing deeply and getting into excerpt character, counting rests, or chatting with the panel.

I got back to work today and everyone said "How did it go?" and I said fine, well, ok, great, or whatever I said. A large part of me wants to overanalyze: My high range was kickin'. My lip trill got stuck. My Mozart was solid, and pretty. My Ravel was alright, the second time. My Heldenleben was bad at the beginning, not bad at the end. My Shostakovich 5 was not the best I've ever played it. My Short Call was. But there's no point, because I have no idea what they heard, what they were looking for, or how they will make any sort of decision, or even what decision there is to make (is there even a possibility of a horn opening in NWS next September?)

Lucky for me, this weekend was not really about my audition. I mean, that's why I went, but it was more of an excuse to do something, and a motivator to keep practicing. I think that if I was investing all that for 7 minutes I would have quit this thing long ago. Rather, the weekend was about a lot of other very pleasant experiences, mostly about people. As I mature, I'm realizing more and more how important people and my relationships with them are to me. I used to think of myself as an outgoing introvert, but more and more I think that I just adore so many friendships that that can't really be true.

The weekend was about having my new "boyfriend" (still a bit uncomfortable with the term) drop me off at the airport. It was about crashing in an amazing loft in Brooklyn with two friends I've known going on 10 years. It was about having a schwanky brunch in NY in the morning, and then a schwanky dinner in the evening. It was about meeting up with an old horn playa' friend and walking down memory lane in a cafe we happened to stumble upon called Sweet Sunshine or something ridiculously cheesy and lovely. It was knowing every single person in the warm up room while I waited for my audition, and being pleasantly surprised by the appearance of one of my favorite cellists (in personality and playing) who I then met for drinks later. It was raiding a sheet music store with another good friend, who happened to be in town for the same audition. It was getting to see "where it all happens" at Vera Wang, since my dear friend is an Associate Designer there. It was enjoying the sights and sounds of New York, feeling like a kid in a candy store, overwhelmed with the variety, the size, the hustle, the fashion, the everything. It was feeling appreciative and alive of everything going on around me. It was having a fascinating conversation with a business man on the plane ride home. It was getting picked up at the airport by aforementioned "boyfriend." It was being happy to come "home."

Now, I realize some would say that until it's all about the audition I probably won't win one. And that may or may not be true. But for now all I know is that I really love playing the horn, I'm doing a lot of it here, while still scheming about things to come. I learned some important things preparing for this weekend, and now I have the time to take them on. I have a job doing what I love to do and it provides me the resources to continue pursuing a higher level.

Let's just say, for now, I can't complain. :)

And the winner is...

2007-02-14T15:02:00.000-06:00

Ka'na Yaan.

It means "hay arriba" or "It's up above" in Mayan.

It stems from Kanadyan, which stems from...well, if you don't get the joke, you don't deserve to know.

First the Tree, now the BQ

2007-02-10T14:15:00.000-06:00

Remember when I foolishly let CM post a request to name our tree? The tree has since become a ridiculously leaf-less thing in the corner of our living room. I try to pretend it's not actually there.

Hopefully the same projectory is not in the works for the BQ.

Nevertheless, now we're looking for a brass quintet name. Ideas so far include: Kanad Ya'an Brass, C's Brass Quintet, and V. As you can see, we're in desperate need of some help.

We are a group of 4 guys and a girl, 4 Americans and a Slav, living here, interested in giving serious recitals of music originally composed for Brass Quintet.

Go nuts.

It's All About the Groove

2007-02-08T18:50:00.000-06:00

I'm in the groove of life right now. It's true. The things I have been working on are falling into place. I'm getting to know this fantastic guy that really likes me too. I'm headed to NYC in about a week for business and pleasure, and I feel like I actually have enough money saved to enjoy it. My chops feel really good. I've worked out every day for almost two weeks. I decided to make these stuffed chicken breasts today and I happened to have exactly the ingredients I needed in my kitchen, even though I desperately need to go grocery shopping. This super cool chica is moving in to my house today.

I'm feeling incredibly lucky and hoping it lasts.

So, it's making me think, it's really just all about the groove. You get in the right mind set, approach, "vibe", and with a little bit of luck, everything falls into place. And that's how auditions are.

So for Mozart 3 I just have to get into the lovely-sound, great-intonation, spot-on-time, phrase-to-beat-1 groove. And then Strauss 1 I switch to the slightly-arrogant, pronounced-articulation, beautiful-sound and spot-on time groove. Beethoven 3 has it's triple meter groove, which is important to have in my head before I start. I know the Beethoven 9 groove, it's a bit easier to find. Focus on full air column, four levels of importance in the context of the orchestra. Brahms 3 groove-use more air than you think you'll need. Maintain the ends of the sub-phrases to make the big ones. Mahler 1- playing soft groove means relaxed and fully supported. Subdividing groove. Mendelssohn-nocturne groove. Shosty 5- marcato-solid-block-y groove. Ein Heldenleben- long-relaxed-air paired with snappy-fingers-and-great-rhythm groove. Til Eulenspiegel groove (not attempting to describe that one). Short Call groove- you know it when you have it.

As I write this, I realize that maybe when you're really IN the groove, you can't quite put words to it. With excerpts and life. You are so present and sure of what you are doing, that you just go ahead and play. That's what I like so much about music anyway, being present. That's what my life feels like right now.

Lastly, any of you that would like to shed some light on the Ravel-Piano-Concerto-in-G-groove, I would appreciate it!

Hmmm...was that post cheesy? Think so maybe.

I should really post.

2007-02-06T23:55:00.000-06:00

I'm not having much motivation to write on the ol' blog lately. But then I feel bad. All those avid readers, checking in daily, and day in day out, nothing. It's a bit selfish.

So, what's been going on lately, in no particular order?

I've been out twice with EGS-V (obviously Mexican, otherwise why the 4 initials?) and am very much looking forward to our plans for tomorrow night as well. Although I'm hesitant to call it any certain names prematurely, I'll just say that this time feels different for many reasons, and my "usual" in this area goes nowhere. So we shall see! (This is having this silly smile-y effect on me, in fact, the roomie CM is reminding me to be less perky, but it just isn't sinking in.)

I'm headed to NY in 11 days for an audition for the NWS. The list is coming along nicely and I've had the chance to play it for one musician I much respect, and at least two more practice rounds are on the way. It feels good to have a goal (really the only thing that gets me at all focused in the practice room) and I'm feeling positive. (Now the truth: I just want to go back in time and shake Ravel upside down and scream, "are you sure you want to write that for the first horn in your Piano Concerto in G" until he decides he doesn't want to and then I can come back to the current time and not have to worry about it!) I'm also looking forward to being in NY and seeing a few old friends on the way.

The house is under transition from 66% male to 66% female. Things are going smoothly and I'm hoping we will all be re-accustomed shortly.

Ok, yeah, I'm done. Sorry guys, I'm just not in the mood!

A Riddle

2007-01-24T13:25:00.000-06:00

This is what's been on my mind lately:

If CH moves out of House #1 to live in House #2 with MT, then JD can move into to Room #1 of House #1. Or CM can move out of House #1 and MT or JD can move into Room #2 of House #1. But if JK moves out of House #1, then JD or MT can move into Room #3 of House #1. Except that CM wants to move from Room #2 to Room #3 of House #1. So CH can move into House #2 with MT and JD and CM can live in House #1. But then Room #1 of House #1 is empty. So maybe MT should move into Room #2 of House #1, and CM should move from Room #2 to Room #3.

This is the riddle it reminds me of:

If there's a goat, a cabbage, and a wolf on one side of the river, and you have to get them all to the other side, but you can only take one at a time, and you can't leave the goat with the cabbage, or the wolf with the goat, how do you get all three across the river?

Five Lists of Fives

2007-01-19T12:11:00.000-06:00

As you all have probably noticed by now, my blog is basically a collection of lists. I like lists. In fact, I'm obsessed with them. They calm me down when I'm feeling overwhelmed.

I have about 20 lists saved on my computer, 6 floating around my house, and an ever-growing amount in my head. Here's some of them. (P.S. This first list is a blog trend that's going around. I'm such a push-over.)

5 things you probably didn't know about me.

1. I worked as a soccer referee for one year.
2. I've had two boyfriends in my whole life so far.
3. I don't like fantasy fiction or cartoons.
4. As of last week, I have bribed a Mexican traffic cop.
5. Now that I live in Mexico, I want to move to Norway.

5 things I'd like to do every day, ideally.

1. Participate in live music (play or attend).
2. Cook something (simple or complex).
3. Read.
4. Have a good conversation.
5. Exercise (salsa dancing and biking out of necessity count).

5 goals I have for 2007

1. Play a concerto as guest soloist with a real ensemble.
2. Make significant progress in learning a third language.
3. Sell my car.
4. Go to Chiapas.
5. Listen to all my lessons from undergrad.

5 grad schools I'm considering

1. Northwestern University
2. New England Conservatory
3. Rice University
4. "TJS"
5. Yale University

5 things besides grad school I'd rather do

1. New World Symphony
2. Fulbright Scholarship
3. Win another job
4. Keep my current job
5. Chicago Civic Orchestra

What I Didn't Learn in Undergrad

2007-01-18T19:34:00.000-06:00

My apologies for my disappearance. I decided in the last few weeks that real live contact with a few people I get to see about once a year was more important than virtual contact with many I see every day. Tee hee.

I've been in vacation mode for about a month- a trip to the alma mater to visit old friends and favorite places, the holidays, two of my best friends visiting and me showing them around this place. Now that it's over, I'm basically totally refreshed and excited to get back to work. I'm lining up some audtions, scheming about chamber music, and really into the orchestra (this week...)

I was thinking today during rehearsal about what I didn't learn in undergard. Keeping in mind that I learned so much I can hardly believe it in undergrad, it's interesting to think about it a year and a half out, with no negative connotations, promise. Also, remember that this list doesn't necessarily mean I've learned it since, although some of them I think I have, but at least it means I've become aware that I don't know it, which is the first step, right?

1) How to play the stopped low C-sharp at the end of Tchaikovsky's 6th Symphony so that it rattles.
2) It really is all about air.
3) Pitches have tendencies when they are crescendo-ing or decrescendo-ing.
4) Low horn players play fairly loud, loud or really loud most of the time.
5) What mouthpiece I should play.
6) What horn I should play.
7) That I want to be a second horn player.
8) No, it really is all about air.
9) Most people worry about endurance.
10) Almost the most important thing you can do is play in tune.
11) Watch the concertmaster.
12) Pay attention to the cellos.
13) Listen to the basses.
14) My mid-register D's are usually flat, my low F-sharps are usually sharp, my high G-sharps are usually sharp, and my low D's sound better when I use thumb and 3.
15) Really, it is all about air.

Sorry, that was probably more interesting for some than others. But considering 75% of my readers are brass players (I think), I will leave it at that. I promise my next post will be about falling in love or getting in a fight with a best friend to balance it out. :)

The Big 2-3

2006-12-31T11:53:00.000-06:00

Well, I'm in the last year of my early twenties. I guess I could do a recap of the cool things that have happened to me this year, and my goals for the year to come. But my blog seems to be filled with far too many lists as of late, and frankly, I'm not in the mood.

So- yesterday was my birthday. To celebrate, I went shopping, ate homemade potstickers, got dressed up, went out dancing, and saw a lot of my favorite people.

It's been my experience that every year since I was 11 has been a little better than the one before. Well, except maybe 19, 19 was rough.

So, here's hoping the trend continues!

Going Through Memories

2006-12-27T08:11:00.000-06:00

Happy Holidays!

OK, now that that's out of the way...One of my major projects for my two weeks at home is organizing all of my stuff. I'm always overwhelmed with materialism at Christmas-time, with this over-done flood of buying things (did you know something like 40% of gift cards are never even redeemed?), but this year I am especially aware since I am sorting through EVERYTHING I OWN. For a want-to-be-minimalist like myself, this is not a particularly enjoyable process.

As some of you may know, I moved abroad in less than three days. I was substituting in a different orchestra abroad when I got my job offer. They wanted me to get there as soon as possible, so I rushed home, and with the help of friends and family, wrapped up my life and whisked myself away in about 60 hours. Consequently, my stuff is spread out between the bags I packed, my old bedroom closet at my mom's house, my car, and perhaps some storage at my dad's as well. The project is to re-pack it all into nicely labeled boxes, be realistic and get rid of what I'll never use, and find a few greatly missed items (like those precious black flats with little silver polka dots on them...sigh...) to bring back with me.

As much as I hate confronting all the crap I have, and lamenting the money I could have saved by not purchasing it, I do enjoy stumbling upon some things. My favorite so far was a bundle of letters and cards I've saved. It was like unwrapping a narration of some of my favorite memories. Not particularly significant or big moments in my life, but valuable nonetheless.

As they say, it's the little things that count.

*A letter I wrote to the parents of one of my best friends from my freshman year of college. He was killed in a rock climbing accident in the August before we returned for our sophomore year. That was a rough time.

*A typed summary of the summer of 1997 written by my father. I was 14.

*A few Valentine's Day cards from my college roommate who's getting married this coming summer. She's the master of tongue-in-cheek one-liners.

*A paper my first horn student wrote entitled "Heroes." I was 17 and she was 10 when I was teaching her. She lists her three heroes as Martin Luther King, Jr., Amelia Earhart and me.

*A note scribbled on the back of "Enigma" from "Nimrod Variations" that was passed to me during an All-State Orchestra rehearsal. It was from a percussionist and he was clearing his plans for our honeymoon with me.

*A card I found taped to my locker a few days after my junior recital. The card included: a copy of the program with notes along the way, a description of the sender (a 50 year old bachelor, a clean man, who enjoys nice art and culture, and willing to wait) and a phone number.

*The letter my mom wrote me on the event of my graduation from high school.

So, the bedroom closet is re-done and I've discovered that I have two copies of scores to Brahms Complete Concerti, all the papers I wrote in college, a ton of post-it notes, and a pair of bright blue high heels, among other things.

On to the car...another entry may follow!

P.S. I adore my family! So nice to see them again! And to all y'all south of the border, hope you had a good holiday-I miss you!

Inside Jokes Galore

2006-12-22T12:04:00.000-06:00

At the moment I am completely overwhelmed with gratitude for my friends. I have seen A LOT of old friends in the last three days, and I am in awe of their beauty, brilliance, and what they are up to in the world. They're pretty darn nice to me too.

However, I'm choosing to post a list of little or no significance to most of you, mostly for my own records, and the intense enjoyment of AD (and BM). The day of 12-20-06 will go down in my personal history as one of the best of my life.

Supah long run- "eat it up!"

Whispered: "You can."

What does $30 buy you in Madison? A bunch of clothes!

Practice makes perfect!

Musical review over Japanese food...

F, C, o M?

3 words- Sweet Potato Cheesecake

Puccini...Strauss...Vivaldi...uhhh

New game-1. Meet a person. 2. Talk up to 15 minutes. 3. Write the title and author of a book you recommend for them on a slip of paper. 4. Sign it. 5. Give them the slip of paper. 6. Repeat. 7. Make the world a better place.

Favorite teacher impressions, gracias a BC

Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Chesty Bartenders

Word by Word Toasts.

15 minutes- go- and picture series to go along with it.

Grocery shopping anyone?

SpoonFest, etc.

French Toast

Winery

One more shout out to AD, who so graciously made her house my home for four days, acted as my chauffeur, answering service, personal trainer, event coordinator, counselor, and one heck of a friend.

Our friendship is great because we have a lot in common, support each other in our goals and dreams, and see life in a very similar way, like one huge opportunity for anything fantastic to happen. She's an inspiration and an energizer.

Home Sweet Home

2006-12-18T22:55:00.001-06:00

Ahhh...the sweetness...

Repertoire: A Test of Follow-Through

2006-12-15T18:32:00.000-06:00

**Note: For those of you that check my blog obsessively, I have made a few adjustments to the following project.**

I've just recieved a list of the planned repertoire for next season. It's pretty good.

I will now perform a test: "How Likely We Are to Play What We Say We Will." This test involves making a list of the pieces I am very excited to play that are on this list of planned repertoire. If this piece is changed, or canceled, I will note it in blue with the date. When we actually play the piece, I will change it from black to red. We'll see how many are black at the end of the season, and how much blue is clogging up the list.

Remember--- here, nothing is confirmed until it's history.

List posted 12-15-06

Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1
Pictures at an Exhibition
Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 6
Overture to Tanhauser
Salome, Dance of the Seven Veils (Strauss)
Sinfonia Indiana, Carlos Chavez
Short Ride in a Fast Machine, Adams
Firebird Suite
Copelia (Delibes)
Four Last Songs, Richard Strauss added (2-23-07)
Mahler Symphony No. 4
Les Preludes added (1-24-07)
Beethoven Emperor Concerto changed to some Mozart Flute Concerto in G Major (1-19-07)
Beethoven Symphony No. 7
Madame Butterfly
Creatures of Prometheus added (2-23-07)
Brahms Tragic Overture added (12-16-06) then cancelled (1-19-07) changed to Oberon Overture (1-24-07)
Don Juan changed to Death and Transfiguration (12-15-06) changed to Schumann Symphony # 4 (1-19-07)
Candide Overture
Brahms Symphony No. 2
Rhapsody on a Theme from Paganini, Rachmaninoff
Bartok Concerto for Orchestra

New World vs. Columbus-Advice?

2006-12-15T18:25:00.000-06:00

I have the opportunity to get away in February for a few days, so I'm going to take an audition. Both of these auditions fall during the time I'm away...on the same day. I can only take one of them, I'm sure. I haven't decided which one yet. This is where you come in.

I'm going to make a list of the reasons why I should take each audition. If you give me a reason I consider substantial, I will add it to the list. Then I will do what I want to do and justify it with the reasons on the list of the audition I choose. :~)

New World Symphony

Cheap plane ticket to New York
Was already a finalist for them, would like to stay on their list
Can stay with and visit my friend Margo for the long weekend
Definitely want to play in New World Symphony
Have already prepared the list (two years ago)

Columbus Symphony-4th/Utility Horn
Is a real job
Pays $1200 a week, 46 weeks
Is a 4th horn job and I'm working as a low horn player (decent chances)
Probably will feel comfortable with much of the list, although I haven't seen it yet

My Very Own Harper's Index

2006-12-14T16:44:00.000-06:00

Please forgive me, this is my first attempt at a Harper's Index. I can guarantee it won't be as cool as the real ones.

Number of rehearsals I have had to attend this week: .5
Number of hours I slept last night: .5
Number of minutes I allowed myself to bike to music school due to hitting snooze button: 7
Number of minutes it took me: 6
Number of students I was supposed to teach today: 7
Number that showed up for their class: 0
Number of days until Christmas vacation for students: 1
Number of days until Christmas vacation for teachers/orchestra members: 3
Number of Christmas concerts left to survive: 3
Number of days until Christmas: 11
Number of Christmas gifts I've bought so far: 5
Number I have left to buy: 5
Number of luggage items I am bringing home: 4
Number I am checking: 1
Number of episodes of West Wing I was hoping to watch on the journey home: 12
Number of episodes I will be able to watch now that my computer battery isn't working: 1
Number of helpful things Apple Care guy told me: 0
Number of apples I have eaten this week: 0
Number of pears or pear flavored things I have eaten today: 3
Number of sushi rolls I plan to eat tonight at Campay: 2
Number of pesos I plan to spend: 70
Number of dollars that equals: 7
Percentage off on sushi rolls at Campay on Thursdays: 50
Number of Thursdays I will be in the USA: 2
Number of times I will be salsa dancing on Thursday night in the next two weeks: 2
Number of times I have gone salsa dancing here since August: 2
How excited I am to go home: priceless.

I really should have gotten more sleep last night, but I tossed and turned, and then watched True Romance which is a really good movie. Word.

Uh oh.

2006-12-12T21:58:00.000-06:00

I was just at Wal-Mart (the first no no) and realized I was singing along to every song that came on. I then realized that I actually own the CD they were playing in Wal-Mart.

Does that speak highly of Wal-Mart or poorly of me?

Yeah, better not to answer.

A Wedding

2006-12-12T12:10:00.000-06:00

I'm supposed to have gotten a really great blog entry out of this wedding I went to on Saturday. But you can't force a really great blog entry. So I'll just relay the events and we'll see what happens.

My friend and co-worker, RM, got married on Saturday. As our wedding gift (and dues for getting a free party) about half the orchestra provided the music for the event. Some contributed more than others- JK arranged "All You Need is Love" for the recessional, and JM arranged a lot of string pieces in order to include the brass and winds a little more. Oh yeah, JM also conducted, which was cool.

Anyway, it was kind of half gig, half friend's wedding which made me both enjoy the gig but not cry at the wedding. Well, I cried a tiny bit, but I don't think anyone noticed.

It was a beautiful ceremony, but after it ended the party really started.

Highlights included:

Waiting so long for food that we turned into 4 year olds, playing games with the flatware.
The food being well worth the wait.
Seeing the bride and groom dance a cha-cha.
Realizing it was a cha-cha version of Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers.
Galloping around in a conga line of solteras due to some tradition I don't know about.
Enjoying it thoroughly.
Not catching the bouquet.
Not catching the bouquet all three times the bride threw it.
Mariachis that brought tacos.
The mother of the bride busting out in song with the mariachis.
Seeing little girls in princess dresses with their hair done up in flowers.
Seeing my co-workers dressed up in not-black clothes.
Being complimented on how I look by my co-workers (thanks!).
Socializing with people that aren't my co-workers (no offense!).
Sleeping all day the next day.
Still having two more days after that off.

Yeah for weddings and congrats to R and R- they seem to really be right for each other, lucky bums.

Jingle Bells, Time Wasters, and Party Justifications

2006-12-04T21:38:00.000-06:00

Jingle Bells:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2700154567140630531&pr=goog-sl

Time Waster:

www.weffriddles.com

Warning: IF YOU DON'T HAVE TIME TO WASTE, DO NOT GO TO THE FOLLOWING SITE. IT WILL SUCK YOU IN AND YOU WILL END UP WASTING YOUR TIME WHETHER YOU HAVE IT TO WASTE OR NOT.

Party Justifications:

Lastly, here is a list of excuses we are using to have parties here lately. Fortunately, most of them seem fairly legitimate.

~Thanksgiving
~Semi-House Warmings
~Successful Cello Concerto Performance
~Fantastic Jazz Trio Premiere
~Bachelor Party
~Bachelorette Party
~Another Bachelorette Party
~Weddings
~Going Away Party

And here is a list of excuses to have parties while I am home. Perhaps less legitimate, but it's vacation so it's OK.

~Welcome Home!
~Welcome Back to Alma Mater!
~Nostalgic Evening of Visiting Old Hang Outs
~Reunion at The Cardinal
~Welcome Back to Hometown!
~Merry Christmas Eve!
~Merry Christmas!
~Happy 23rd Birthday!
~Happy New Year's Eve!
~Happy New Year's Day!
~Welcome Amber to my new home abroad!
~Amber in town for 2 weeks!
~Real House-Warming?
~Post-Concerts (perhaps successful, likely not)
~Welcome Jessica to my new home abroad!
~Goodbye Amber!
~Goodbye Jessica!

and on and on. Yippee.

How do you spell Bachelorette?