Tomorrow at 7:50 a.m. I will be on my way to Questa, New Mexico (near Taos) for the week, buildin' stuff with Habitat for Humanity. I'm a bit anxious right now, because packing does that to me - since we're going to be working in the cold, I'm attempting to stuff an obscene amount of warm clothing (that can get ruined if necessary!) into my suitcase. But I'm sure that once I get on the plane, I'll relax (probably to the point of falling asleep).
Overall I'm really looking forward to the trip. Building is my favorite form of service, because it is so tangible. I am creating something right here, right now, that will have a positive effect on people's lives, and at the end of the week I can see my progress. In my opinion, it's also the best way to get to know people - physically working together on a common goal. While I've done week-long service trips like this (four, actually), it'll be my first time working with Habitat and my first time traveling with a group of Brown students (as opposed to TELOS, my church youth group), so it will definitely be a unique experience. Add to this the fact that it's further west than I've ever been, and that I'll be turning 21 on the third day of the trip, and it may even be an adventure.
So au revoir for the week, and expect lots of stories and pretty pictures upon my return. Bisous à tous!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
DMA in NYC
Last Sunday, my friends from Drum Major Academy, some of whom I hadn't seen in years, FINALLY FINALLY had a reunion in New York. We're all about equidistant from the City in different directions, so it worked out perfectly. Seeing old friends and having the rapport be exactly the same as you remembered it being is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world.
L-R: Becca, Katy, me, Christine
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Being goofy at Toys 'R' Us.
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Christine's friend Mike was our amazingly good-humored photographer.
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They're all such beautiful women, and it's funny to think that not only did we all go through the shared, intense experience of DMA (two years in a row), but that we then went on to be leaders of our respective bands. Seriously, you get four former drum majors together, and we could probably take over the world if we wanted to. I'm the only one who's still doing something similar (in that I'm head conductor of the Brown Band), but Katy is a music ed./voice major, Becca still plays her trumpet, and Christine dances (Bhangra, I believe) - so we all kept on "doing" music in some way or another. I hope it won't be another three years before we're able to do this again.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Playlist for a Penpal
Here is the playlist from a mix CD I made for Lene, my penpal from Norway. I love making mixes like no other - figuring out the perfect order so that there aren't too many fast songs, or songs with female singers, or songs with "sex" in the title, in a row. Also on the mix is "Adam of Eden" by Suzanne Elizabeth Marron (it goes in between Imogen and the Roots), but iLike only had a couple of her songs and that wasn't one of them (credit to Masumi for supplying me with obscure music).
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Oscar Grant
I know this is my third post today, but this is absolutely horrifying. A 22-year-old black man was shot in the back and killed for absolutely no reason (he and his friends were putting up no resistence) by a police officer in San Francisco - and it was all caught on cell phone camera.
Warning: the video is pretty graphic.
This site lists several ways you can help, including spreading the word so that the story is picked up by the national media.
Warning: the video is pretty graphic.
This site lists several ways you can help, including spreading the word so that the story is picked up by the national media.
Quick Hit
The distinguished Adrienne Langlois on Obama's brand of humor and why it's good for America.
On a personal note, I wish I could write like she does...
On a personal note, I wish I could write like she does...
I wrote this a while ago, but it bears revisiting.
My heart rate has been increasing proportionally to the closing gap of time before the song. Finally, the jazz band director announces proudly that the next piece, a Charles Mingus tune called “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat,” will feature me as a tenor saxophone soloist. Rising from the chair with quavering smile, I’m not certain that my knees will hold. The sax dangles leadenly from my neck strap, which I compulsively tug, adjust. Lick the reed, slurp the mouthpiece, finger the keys rapidly. No turning back now.
It takes all my willpower to put my mouth to the plastic mouthpiece, tighten my lips, and blow the first little phrase. The piece starts right in with improvisation; not only am I the only one playing, but I am also making it up. At first I think too hard about each note and the sound is unconfident. My racing, panicked mind has gone slightly into shock by the time I get into the blessedly written-down melody of the piece, my fingers numbly pressing buttons in familiar patterns. But then the moaning ache of the low notes stirs something, some feeling of sadness and longing, the word my subconscious has already detected as love. Love for the beauty of the song, the smooth pearl of the keys I press, the air hissing past my teeth and sliding through the length of the horn to erupt out of the bell. All at once I know what I am doing here: I have to share this with the audience. I have to convey a glimpse of what I am feeling right now, of my love affair with this music and this emotion and this instrument.
When I reach the second page, the notes have fallen away. Improvisation, my greatest musical fear, involving both creativity and confidence. I face a sheet of music that is blank but for chord changes, a page that under normal circumstances would have caused fear to paralyze my fingers and tighten my throat. I would have stopped, simply stopped right in the middle, tears springing to my eyes. I would have allowed self-consciousness to plant itself firmly between my mouth and the mouthpiece, stumbling and stammering to produce a single note. A legit player knows only written music, sonatas and concertos of carefully pre-meditated notes. In this classical world, intricate sixteenth-note runs call to be practiced over and over, and I am safe in comforting, concrete, written notes.
But tonight—tonight I am in love, so I stop worrying about mistakes, un-focus my eyes, and allow my fingertips to melt into the golden gleam they grasp. Tongue taps on rough reed, hot breath pushes and fingers dance. A straining wail erupts from my core out into the air, transformed into to some beautiful noise by a piece of brass, notes hanging for an instant before fading away smokily. There is nothing to decide, no physical body over which I have control, just this vessel through which I am sharing this song of beautiful mourning. I am no more aware of the passage of time than I am of the actual notes emerging; my body leans forward slightly to ground itself. Wide, breathy vibrato quivers and calms to a purr, and I savor the buzz of air that passes by my lips sounding only as a soft staccato sigh. A deep inhale, a twitch of fingers, and I gliss up the range of the horn before tumbling slowly down again to a long blue note. This is the first time I have ever been able to let go, to channel the melancholy and desire the song inspires in me through the melodies I create. The sax reveals every secret in me as I lose myself in the heartbreaking movement of the chords.
On the release of the last, high, long note, I blink for a moment until applause sets in. The spell is broken, zinging off into corners of the dark auditorium, and I am suddenly acutely aware of my dizzy panting. As the unfamiliar sensation of real satisfaction creeps up into me, I grin and take a bow.
It takes all my willpower to put my mouth to the plastic mouthpiece, tighten my lips, and blow the first little phrase. The piece starts right in with improvisation; not only am I the only one playing, but I am also making it up. At first I think too hard about each note and the sound is unconfident. My racing, panicked mind has gone slightly into shock by the time I get into the blessedly written-down melody of the piece, my fingers numbly pressing buttons in familiar patterns. But then the moaning ache of the low notes stirs something, some feeling of sadness and longing, the word my subconscious has already detected as love. Love for the beauty of the song, the smooth pearl of the keys I press, the air hissing past my teeth and sliding through the length of the horn to erupt out of the bell. All at once I know what I am doing here: I have to share this with the audience. I have to convey a glimpse of what I am feeling right now, of my love affair with this music and this emotion and this instrument.
When I reach the second page, the notes have fallen away. Improvisation, my greatest musical fear, involving both creativity and confidence. I face a sheet of music that is blank but for chord changes, a page that under normal circumstances would have caused fear to paralyze my fingers and tighten my throat. I would have stopped, simply stopped right in the middle, tears springing to my eyes. I would have allowed self-consciousness to plant itself firmly between my mouth and the mouthpiece, stumbling and stammering to produce a single note. A legit player knows only written music, sonatas and concertos of carefully pre-meditated notes. In this classical world, intricate sixteenth-note runs call to be practiced over and over, and I am safe in comforting, concrete, written notes.
But tonight—tonight I am in love, so I stop worrying about mistakes, un-focus my eyes, and allow my fingertips to melt into the golden gleam they grasp. Tongue taps on rough reed, hot breath pushes and fingers dance. A straining wail erupts from my core out into the air, transformed into to some beautiful noise by a piece of brass, notes hanging for an instant before fading away smokily. There is nothing to decide, no physical body over which I have control, just this vessel through which I am sharing this song of beautiful mourning. I am no more aware of the passage of time than I am of the actual notes emerging; my body leans forward slightly to ground itself. Wide, breathy vibrato quivers and calms to a purr, and I savor the buzz of air that passes by my lips sounding only as a soft staccato sigh. A deep inhale, a twitch of fingers, and I gliss up the range of the horn before tumbling slowly down again to a long blue note. This is the first time I have ever been able to let go, to channel the melancholy and desire the song inspires in me through the melodies I create. The sax reveals every secret in me as I lose myself in the heartbreaking movement of the chords.
On the release of the last, high, long note, I blink for a moment until applause sets in. The spell is broken, zinging off into corners of the dark auditorium, and I am suddenly acutely aware of my dizzy panting. As the unfamiliar sensation of real satisfaction creeps up into me, I grin and take a bow.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Let's make a resolution! Let's always stay friends!
Happy New Year, one and all! My eve was certainly epic. Here's to 2009 being...a better year than 2008.
Resolutions:
1. To blog semi-regularly. (Ten points for being off to a good start!)
2. To take waaaaay more pictures.
3. To exercise twice a week - yoga on Sunday and one day at the gym. Between that and conducting I should be getting a full-body workout (enough of one for me, anyway). It's not that I want to get in shape - I hate the fact that so much of the whole "New Year's Resolution" concept is based on weight-loss etc. - but that I know my mental/emotional state is just so much more chill when I exercise regularly. Makes me feel good all over.
4. To eat healthy cereal for breakfast instead of Lucky Charms. I'm off to a good start - found this really tasty cereal called Puffins or something, and it's peanut butter-flavored (yes please) but not sugary, so I feel like that's a good in-between sort of thing to wean me off of straight up marshmallows for breakfast.
5. To do something awesome this summer. Details TBA.
6. To spend less time brooding/procrastinating by doing nothing, and more time being positive/procrastinating by doing something. It's not that I'll ever stop procrastinating, but I'll certainly feel better about myself if I waste time, say, doing pleasure reading or playing sax than if I waste time, say, checking my email fifty times in a row.
7. To stop picking my skin. (To dream the impossible dream...)
8. To relax my shoulders, rather than sitting with them hunched up. Also my hands - I need a looser grip on my pencil and my saxophone. A person can get some serious problems walking around with too much tension.
Challenges of the coming year include: picking a topic for my thesis, making money (or at least breaking even) this summer while still doing something worthwhile, starting to write my thesis, paying rent.
Excitements of the coming year include: my 21st birthday, my trip to New Mexico with Habitat, Becky's wedding, my second and final year as head conductor of the band, my Sarah-filled off-campus apartment.
We're all going to be okay. Here's to a happy and healthy year with love in abundance.
Resolutions:
1. To blog semi-regularly. (Ten points for being off to a good start!)
2. To take waaaaay more pictures.
3. To exercise twice a week - yoga on Sunday and one day at the gym. Between that and conducting I should be getting a full-body workout (enough of one for me, anyway). It's not that I want to get in shape - I hate the fact that so much of the whole "New Year's Resolution" concept is based on weight-loss etc. - but that I know my mental/emotional state is just so much more chill when I exercise regularly. Makes me feel good all over.
4. To eat healthy cereal for breakfast instead of Lucky Charms. I'm off to a good start - found this really tasty cereal called Puffins or something, and it's peanut butter-flavored (yes please) but not sugary, so I feel like that's a good in-between sort of thing to wean me off of straight up marshmallows for breakfast.
5. To do something awesome this summer. Details TBA.
6. To spend less time brooding/procrastinating by doing nothing, and more time being positive/procrastinating by doing something. It's not that I'll ever stop procrastinating, but I'll certainly feel better about myself if I waste time, say, doing pleasure reading or playing sax than if I waste time, say, checking my email fifty times in a row.
7. To stop picking my skin. (To dream the impossible dream...)
8. To relax my shoulders, rather than sitting with them hunched up. Also my hands - I need a looser grip on my pencil and my saxophone. A person can get some serious problems walking around with too much tension.
Challenges of the coming year include: picking a topic for my thesis, making money (or at least breaking even) this summer while still doing something worthwhile, starting to write my thesis, paying rent.
Excitements of the coming year include: my 21st birthday, my trip to New Mexico with Habitat, Becky's wedding, my second and final year as head conductor of the band, my Sarah-filled off-campus apartment.
We're all going to be okay. Here's to a happy and healthy year with love in abundance.
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