Send-Off Concert

We had our send-off concert tonight. It lasted two full hours. I am exhausted and worried how we'll be able to perform such an immense program on next to no sleep. Grace was with us and had to sit through the whole concert. Mom said she couldn't sit still, but she didn't disrupt the performance, so I give her some credit. 2 hours is a long time for any kid.

I'm excited to go, even though we'll be so busy all the time. Tomorrow everyone is going to Martha and Brian's for an early Christmas. I hope I can find some good gifts for everyone while I'm in China. I don't have a ton of money to spend, but it's likely to be the only time I ever go to China.

I'm unsure whether I'll revert to hating Strauss because our concerts will be so long, or if I'll love An der schönen blauen Donau even more because it means the concert is almost over. I feel like I might have weird dual associations for the waltzes: Vienna and China.

It's a fun program but it's just too long. I like the Chinese pieces a lot (Happy News from Beijing = a Chinese Sabre Dance), Katie is killing Glitter and Be Gay (and Frühlingsstimmen), West Side Story and Rodeo are lots of fun, but there are too many Strauss pieces (and they are each quite long with several waltzes each) and while I like Williams' Cowboys Overture, it drags on and on. As a stand alone piece, I don't like the way the Scherzo from Dvorak's 9th Symphony (New World) ends. I'm probably forgetting something, but that kind of helps prove my point.

Ender's Game

I was looking through our library for books to read while in China and thought that I should finish reading Ender's Game. I had gotten about halfway through it years ago, but school was busy and I didn't have time to finish it. It's one of Jeff's favorite books and he's really excited that they are turning it into a movie. The basic premise of the book is that humanity is at war with alien 'buggers' and military leaders are searching for a brilliant commander of their forces. The best and most promising children are selected for training in space, and the bulk of the book is about the war games the kids play. We follow Ender, the last and most promising genius, through the grueling training process, until he taken to command school. There he learns that since the last war with the buggers, the military has developed space travel and has sent an armada to the buggers' home planet. With the friends he made at Battle School, Ender prepares to lead the ships through simulators. In the final battle Ender destroys the alien planet, winning the war.

It's a well written, engaging and thought-provoking novel. We hear about Ender's two older siblings, Peter and Valentine, and the influence they have on Earth while Ender is in space. Through Ender's struggles we wrestle with the ethics of making morally questionable decisions 'for the greater good.' I really loved the book and am looking forward to the movie, which should come out next year.

What to do on a 15 Hour Train Ride

I learned today that we have a 15 hour train ride planned in China, getting from one city to another. Mom had me stop by Kroger's again so I found some Dramamine. I was originally just going to take one book with me, but with so much traveling I think I should take at least 2 things to read. I wish I had brought back my iPod from Boulder. I will have to think of other games and things to do. Maybe I could bring a deck of cards or madlibs.

Reunion

Today was the first rehearsal for the China trip. I had looked at the music for less than an hour this morning. Mom dropped me off at Blair, and though I was late because of a car accident on 65, I got there right before tuning. I don't have a standpartner, which doesn't bother me too much. But I would have more fun sitting with a friend. At least Lillian and Anna sit ahead of me. I am enjoying playing, especially the Strauss pieces. I'm starting to get excited again about the trip. It was nice seeing Dean and Emma again, and I really miss being in the same place with Chris. I want to hand out with Michelle, Lillian, Lindsey, and Anna, too. One thing I'm less excited about is the flights. I will bring The Rest Is Noise to finally read. I might bring something else just in case one book isn't enough.

Home

It's lovely being home! Yesterday I took care of putting a hold on my mail, sent out my electric bill and rent, and obviously packed. The trip home was annoying because my flight was delayed for 2 hours. Since my flight got in so late (11 instead of 9 pm) the kids went to bed and Dad couldn't make it out to the airport with Martha. We went by the bar to eat and see Dustin, Wes, and Amy. We got back to the house well after 3 in the morning and then we watched Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.

I felt surprisingly well in the morning, having stayed up until after 5 am. Grace had already left for school but Haz was excited to see me and proceeded to parade over half of his toys out and we played until Grace came home after 3. Haz talks even more than he did during the summer. Grace is starting to show some maturity and I was disappointed that she isn't quite as ticklish as she used to be.

Dad picked me up and took me to dinner at Old Chicago, the new pizzeria place that opened up in Cool Springs. It's a chain and I have seen them in Colorado, but I had never been before. I'm glad there finally is a place to get good deep dish pizza. It's not quite as good as UNO's, though.

Home is pretty disorganized. I'm not looking forward to going through all of the boxes and moving them back up to the attic. Martha, Brian, and the kids have to move because Gabe is selling the house, so one option for them is to move in here somehow.

I'm happy to be home. Just driving to the bank this afternoon I was struck by how different a feel Nashville has than Boulder / Denver. I hope I don't inconvenience Mom by taking her car all week. I should look at my music tomorrow before rehearsals start. Strangely, both Chris and I sort of feel like we'd prefer just relaxing over break. I'm upset that the orchestra has to leave on Christmas Eve AND that we still have a send-off concert on the 23rd, meaning that it cuts right into the last day where I can have family time. But I'm still excited, and since Chris is going I think we'll have a fun experience. I'll have a few days home before I fly back to Boulder, and then luckily after my 2nd attempt at the Aural Skills exam I have a week to relax and prepare for the spring semester.

Music Lover or Musician?

The thought that keeps me up at night (literally, tonight) is why, if I love music so much, do I spend so little time listening to it (Classical music) and playing it? Practicing is work, and that's how it should be. It depends on the day but sometimes it's very enjoyable and other times it's very frustrating. Work is work because you HAVE to do it. Of course we work at other things and put effort and time into our hobbies, but in general, if we don't want to work at those things on a particular day, we don't have to.

But as a musician I worry that I don't know very much music. I have memory issues and I know my limitations. By the end of a multi-movement piece at a concert I couldn't sing you the opening theme. However, the idea that I simply do not listen to enough music is problematic. I AM passionate about music and I love playing. I don't have a solo mentality and I prefer being a supportive ensemble player. One thing I loved about Lina was that during my visit I told her that about myself, and she respected me for being a type of player which isn't much appreciated.

It occurs to me that my memory troubles and strong dislike for concertos might be related. I never listen to concertos in my spare time. If I do listen to music actively (not while on Facebook or reading) it's almost exclusively chamber music. Considering I want to become an orchestral player, I should start listening to more orchestral works.

But back to my worry: I think, 'if I were a real musician, wouldn't I love music so much I would ALWAYS be listening to something?' While I have my thoughts about how if a thing is ubiquitous it loses a certain quality, the basic premise is true: If I were serious, I would be obsessed with music. And sometimes I'm pretty nerdy, I'll admit, but those instances are very rare.

They say, 'Do what you love.' Assuming we aren't masochists, would it be a safe assumption to say that the things we decide to do are likely the things we love? There are things we have to do out of necessity that we probably would rather not do. But aren't there things we have to do because we love doing them and would suffer to live without them? Or is it okay that I don't have an insatiable appetite for music?

Yongnuo YN Flash

I'm trying very hard not to go overboard with my camera gear. I have a small, light camera case and that's all I ever want to take with me (besides my Dad's small tripod). I don't want to look like a conspicuous idiot, especially if I pair a big flash with my tiny m43 camera. Almost all flashes are as big as my E PL-2 itself. I think I will get a compact flashlight to help me focus at night and for some light painting. Still, I don't plan on focusing on portraits, so an off camera flash would only have so many applications for landscape and night photography, which is what I like to do. Only one way to find out, I suppose, and I would like to have another tool available to me so I can get that creative shot.

But discovering that I could get a cheap off camera flash (under $60) is so tempting. I like that my pop up flash has the versatility of bending upwards for bounce flash, but an off camera flash would open up many more opportunities for creative lighting. I would have to buy some 'universal translators' and a microjack cord to sync the flash with my camera. Not a problem, except that I'd have to choose between my external flash and the electronic viewfinder I just bought. I think that a bigger flash would have helped me get a great picture of that fox, but the electronic viewfinder would be even more useful for focusing. I know I can't always get so close to wildlife, so my pop up flash won't cut it. I think I can stack my EVF on top of the 'universal translator' if I don't mind a ridiculous looking tower on top of my camera.

I don't have any extra money now that I took the plunge and bought myself the VF-3, but this cheap flash definitely will stay on my list.

Studio Class - Mock Jury

I spent all day practicing Sibelius. I tried to wake up early and got to school sometime after 8. I had to skip Bibliography (other people's final presentations) to prepare for rehearsal and a coaching with Rachel. Rehearsal at 11 was okay, but still rough. Orchestra reading comp. major's works was kind of a drag. I only liked one of the pieces, and they were awkward and harder than any Blair piece we read (for Kurek's orchestration class). Playing in Rachel's lesson didn't go so much better, but I had to eat and went to check out the tiny Korean place in the cafeteria across the street from the Bookstore by my house. Kate told me about it and I'm really glad she did. Of course I never have much money to eat out but it was good bulgogi for $8.

I got back to school and practiced for another few hours before our extra studio class / mock jury. I went first because Rachel was there, and though the Beethoven was good, I still haven't completely rememorized the Bach, and I had a ton of memory slips in the Sibelius. Everyone else sounded great overall. Lina brought snacks for when we took a break, and she laughed when I was eating Pirouette cookies because I hold them like cigars. After we finished, we moved to Chamber Hall and I played through the Sibelius from memory, and I nailed it. It was truly the best result I could have hoped for from my intense practicing the past few days. It wasn't just satisfactory, I have rarely sounded as good as I did tonight. It just happened to be after I fell apart in front of my peers. Sarah came by later and said she was done practicing in Grusin, so I went and played through Sibelius and Bach again one last time. It's been a long, exhausting day, but it feels really good to hear the fruits of your labor.

Birthday

After spending entirely too much time playing with my photo editor last night, I slept in until almost 2. I heard from Tee and Adrian about dinner conflicts, and it took some texting to figure out where we could go instead of driving out to Aurora for Korean food. After I showered and shaved I finally made it to school to practice. I got in a solid 2 hours I think, but I'm very worried about my jury. Tomorrow I need to wake up early to keep practicing Sibelius before meeting with Rachel to rehearse.

I always love checking my Facebook to see who's wished me happy birthday throughout the day. Sometimes I'm surprised who remembers (and sometimes I'm disappointed by who forgets). I don't like advertising that it's my birthday, and neither Robbie or Callie knew it was my birthday when we met for dinner. I skipped play-through class in order to keep practicing, but Emily, JiHye, and Leslie came by my practice room and wished me a happy birthday. Emily and I bonded a bit over how unprepared we were for our juries. At 7 I went out to the lounge to meet Tee, Adrian, Robbie, Callie, and Brookes for dinner. We decided to get sushi on the Hill (Sushi Hana), the same place I had been to months ago with Leslie, Lauren, Amy, and I think Nina.

Dinner was delicious (I need to remember the roll I ordered: the Webster Roll) and we had a great time. All I remember was talking about how much we all hate spiders and cockroaches. They are all fun people and it was a happy time, which I really needed given how stressed I'm becoming about my jury. Even though I tend to criticize myself for not being outgoing and socially savvy, I know I've found true friends, and that's all anyone could ask for.

I wish I had gone straight back to the practice room, but I'm still tired and it's my birthday. Mom called and we decided that it might be easier for everyone if we didn't exchange gifts this season. But earlier today Dad put some birthday money into my account, and I saw a rebate offer for the Olympus VF-3 and couldn't help myself. It should arrive back home right when I get back. And if I get a zoom lens, this viewfinder will make manual focus much easier, or it is to be hoped. Trying to focus my CCTV lens in the dark isn't the easiest task, and I missed a golden opportunity to get a great picture of that fox.

I am so enthusiastic about photography and I'm already excited to try out my new accessory.

Snow for My Birthday!

After late night practicing, I walked home in the snow. My first thought upon coming home was that I should go out to get the first pictures of the Flatirons at Chautauqua. I should have changed my shoes and brought some gloves. I got a few decent pictures on the way. I love walking at night when it's quiet. There's something magical about snow, and except for seeing a few cars drive past I reveled in the silence. When I reached Chautauqua, I was beginning to be cold, but I hiked up the main trail to the first split. It had stopped snowing very hard and after a while it cleared up and I could see the mountain. I was surprised how light it was after midnight, the lights from the city gave the sky a kind of glow. Bulb mode gave me the best chance of capturing the mountain, and by the end my hands were numb. With a little work in GIMP I think it turned out okay. Once I learn how to get around hopefully it won't take me so long to edit my RAW files. I wish I had gotten to sleep before 4 this morning.

When I was about to leave, I saw a fox! I had seen its tracks earlier but thought they were from a dog. My kit lens was having trouble focusing in the dark, except right under the parking lights, so I switched to my new CCTV lens. Focus was still hard but the big aperture makes quite a difference. Unfortunately I missed the fox and he ran off. But later I saw him again up the street and I followed him a few blocks. He was too quick and disappeared. I was almost out of the park when I saw him again. All my pictures were blurry except for this one, which isn't that great either. Once I get a longer lens I'll be more prepared for next time.

Exhaustion

Rachel, Robbie and I played in our last performance class today. It was good, but not great. Unfortunately, because of where we were in the program, we had to miss hearing both Leslie's and Ryan's quartets. Now all I have left to focus on is my jury on Saturday. I do have to make a presentation and I do have work on Thursday. But I'm not nearly as concerned about those things as learning the last movement of Sibelius and rememorizing the last movement of Bach A minor sonata.

However, I'm just tired and hungry most of the time. All I want to do is go home and see family and friends and relax. I invited people out to dinner tomorrow for my birthday. When I thought about what I'd like, I immediately thought of Korean food. I'm really looking forward to it! Robbie, Adrian, Tee, Kate, and Callie should be going. I guess I'll have to squeeze everyone into my car and try not to get pulled over.

On Saturday after it's all over (including work...) people are definitely interested in hanging out and getting a drink. I think we should do something nice for Ryan to thank him for playing host so many times. Not sure exactly what. I can't believe they have me scheduled for work Sunday from 12 - close. I will be happy for the money, but it's going to be a busier last day that I wished. My flight leaves Monday at 5 and Martha should be picking me up from the airport. I'll have to plan to pack carefully so that I don't forget anything here that I'll need to take to China. Time to eat dinner and then get back to practicing tonight.

Know Thyself

To be happy, one needs to know who they are. After almost 25 years of life, I'm slightly disconcerted that I couldn't say that I know myself very well. Knowing yourself is more than knowing a list of things you have done, or even knowing things you are likely to do again out of habit or for pleasure's sake. It's not a list of things you like or dislike. It's even more than an understanding of personal beliefs and knowing why you hold certain opinions. We are more than the sum of our parts. We are more than our histories. Being is a choice. We may have certain tendencies and subconscious drives which partially dictate our behavior, but at the beginning of each day, we make choices to determine who we will be at the end of the day. Can we choose our likes and dislikes? Or our beliefs? To a certain extent, I believe we can. But ultimately, WHY we choose what we do is at the core of who we are.

Cello Sonatas

No beer tonight. The liquor store was closed, which wasn't surprising considering I didn't even leave the computer lab until after midnight. I ran into the 7 Eleven next door and got a bag of Cheetos.

Blessed with good internet tonight, I talked with Robbie about sonatas that we liked and we swapped a bunch of YouTube videos. Because of my paper I wanted to listen to the Poulenc Cello Sonata. The Cavatine in particular was praised. I really love it, and so did Robbie.

He had sent Rachel a video of the Grieg cello sonata, so I listened to it. The 2nd movement could be boring if you didn't take the utmost care. But I really like Grieg and his cello sonata is wonderful. I showed Robbie the 3rd violin sonata. Today I have been all about slow movements, which isn't usual with me. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm eager to explore French music.

I really should listen to more cello music. I have a list of sonatas to listen to. Rachmaninoff (too long to listen to tonight. the piano part is incredibly hard), Debussy, Shostakovich, Faure (my internet isn't loading videos as quickly now, so I didn't finish this sonata) and any others I can discover. He liked the Strauss but besides the 2nd movement being boring, the piano part was too difficult. I found the Britten to be bizarre, but its oddness grew on me. The Scherzo in particular is a fun movement. Probably the best pizzacato piece I know, at least for solo string sonata.

Poulenc Paper

Ugh. Just completed my 10 page paper due at midnight on the state of the research on Poulenc's chamber works for strings. I spent literally all day working on it, except for an hour for rehearsal with Rachel and Robbie, and an hour for dinner. I'm hungry and brain-dead, and I'm going to reward myself with a beer. My citations are far from perfect, I suspect, but the fact that I somehow managed to write 10 full pages today about a topic that has a dearth of good sources is enough for me. Provided I give a decent presentation, I am sure I'll get a passing grade for the class. It won't be an A, but at this point in the semester I don't care anymore.

It's been very interesting and entertaining researching Poulenc. I wish I had chosen one of his major works with more sources available. But it was very useful to understanding the violin sonata and I have rarely made more informed musical decisions regarding interpretation of a piece. I mentioned the Poulenc cello sonata to Robbie today, but though he said he likes what he's listened to so far, I'm not holding my breath that he'll commit to learn it. I think he and Rachel will work on a cello sonata next semester.

Poulenc was an entertaining man and it shows in his works. I've run across several funny remarks he made in various letters, such as, "How is Paris? Is it serializing itself at top speed?"
Poulenc to Henri Sauguet (1954).

This project has also been a doorway to learning about French music as a whole, of which I'm shamefully ignorant, except for Debussy. It was nice learning the Saint Saens Piano Trio as well. Sometimes I'm not sure how to describe myself as a player. I think I'm a great listener and I support others well. I love being in ensembles. I'd prefer playing second violin to first. But I don't think I have many outstanding qualities besides working well with others. If I had to pick something, I'd love to become a player with amazing colors. Right now my vibrato and shifting and bow control are all one dimensional. I'm very much looking forward to learning the Debussy sonata. 

Raccoon!

I finally got a really good picture of the campus raccoon, who I always keep an eye out for. Generally, I don't have my camera, but I was on my way to our Christmas concert dress rehearsal and I wanted to take a few more pictures to show Becca and Emma. It's difficult to get super sharp focus. I'd like to do some tests with both lenses just to see the differences. When I blow up my pictures on my computer I can see the blurry edges that people talked about with this lens. It's a nice effect. The bokeh is amazing.

Anyway, here is the best picture I got of the raccoon. He seemed very calm tonight and didn't run away like the last time I got close. I was less than 10 feet away.

I spent the rest of the night (after I attempted to start my bibliography paper) talking on Facebook and fiddling with RAW files. I really don't know how to edit my photos, except for exposure compensation and fixing white balance. I did learn the theory of using curves. But right now it's not worth my time, because I can't do any better than the in camera JPEG editing. I don't think I expanded the dynamic range (next I'll try combining bracketed images to make a proper HDR picture) correctly. Another important thing I need to learn is how to stitch together panoramas. Maybe Dad can help teach me some tricks about post production.

Photography study

My new camera lens came yesterday! It's a Fujian 35mm f1.7 lens. I asked Martha for a telephoto lens for Christmas. Eventually, I'd like to get the Panasonic 20mm f1.7 pancake. But for now, my new Fujian lens is very nice for low light / night photography with it's big aperture. It's slightly soft around the edges, but not as much as I hoped / worried.

I've been watching as many instructional videos about photography as I can. I've learned how to customize some of the buttons on my camera and I'm learning how to change my settings quickly. I love dreaming about getting new cameras and lenses. But considering what I have, I feel good with my equipment now that I know how to get around. Dad gave me good advice, that I should go back to my camera manual after figuring out the basics. I know most of the basics in the menus now and can learn the advanced things.

 I'm also having fun learning to use this manual focus only lens. Also, this is the first prime lens I've used, so it forces me to think about my composition differently. I'm so excited for the trip to China, and I want to be ready to get some beautiful pictures.

Grimms Märchen und Strauss Waltzer

Rachel gave Robbie and me thank you cards after we performed on her recital. The Saint Saens went quite well, and it's been a pleasure playing together. I should probably do something for Rachel as a thank you for playing on my jury, since I didn't get my music in to the accompanists on time.

I spent most of this morning and afternoon deciding what to buy with the $15 iTunes card from Rachel. I've been daydreaming a lot about Vienna again, so I decided to get the Strauss New Years' Concert in Vienna. I believe the same concert is mostly on YouTube, but I have fallen in love with Strauss waltzes. There is nothing quite so evocative of Vienna.

Then I started looking for some short audiobooks auf Deutsch. Eventually I really want to own a copy of LOTR in German. But since I only had $4 left and my German is terrible, I looked up some readings of Grimms fairy tales. It took some searching to be sure that they were the exact same versions (verbatim) as my little Reclam book I've been meaning to translate since I returned from Austria. I bought two stories: Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten and Dornröschen (Sleeping Beauty). I don't know the first story, but apparently it's about a donkey who runs away to become a musician. It's so nice listening to German with the text in front of me. I think it will help me get back to studying the language.

Considering my future after my Master's program is finished, there's nothing I'd rather do than return to Austria. I'm not sure how serious Amelia or Westrey would be, but if one or both of them came with me, it would be heaven. With that dream in mind, I have a lot to do towards becoming fluent in German. It's nice to dream. It will motivate me to work hard. And why not? There's no reason I couldn't make my dream happen.

Wildwood

Yesterday I had a very relaxing Sunday. I'm hoping that taking a day off will help me be more focused and less tired during the rest of the week. So far I think I'm tired all the time, regardless of what I do. But I had a wonderful time reading at the Boulder Bookstore yesterday. I wandered downtown because I didn't want to stay in my room all day hoping for internet, and the first book that caught my eye was Wildwood. The author is Colin Meloy, who apparently has written songs for the Decemberists. It's a fantasy novel about Prue and her friend Curtis who go into the Impassable Wilderness outside Portland in search of Prue's baby brother, who has been kidnapped by a murder of crows.

They discover a world of talking animals and humans at odds and a war ready to break out. Curtis is captured by the coyotes and meets Alexandra, the Dowager Governess who, we later learn, was exiled to the Wildwood for use of dark magic (she brought her son back to life). After Curtis learns of her plans of revenge -  to sacrifice Mac, Prue's brother, to the ivy and destroy all life in the Woods - he refuses to help her and is thrown in prison.

Prue, meanwhile, was taken to see the Governor Regent by one of the mailmen. We see that the system of government in South Wood is broken, and when Prue sneaks out to see Owl Rex, the prince from the Avian Principality who tried to convince the Governor Regent that the birds should be allowed to protect themselves from Coyote attacks. The Sword, the secret police, come and arrest Owl Rex and begin rounding up all the birds in South Wood. Owl Rex had advised Prue to journey to see the Mystics in North Wood for help in finding her brother and Curtis. The mailman sneaks Prue across the border to the Avian Principality, where the Eagle General agrees to fly her to the North Wood. However, they are shot down by a Coyote archer.

Prue is found by Brendan, the King of the Bandits. With Coyotes on her scent, Brendan tries to escape and lead them away from the Bandits' secret camp. However, they are captured and Brendan is thrown in jail. Alexandra convinces Prue to return to Portland and that she would find her brother and send him back. While home, Prue's parents confess to having met Alexandra before. In their desperation to have a child they contacted Alexandra, who used her black magic, but they agreed to give her their second child in return. Knowing that Alexandra lied to her, Prue returns to Wildwood across the ghost bridge that her parents used years ago. Meanwhile, Curtis engineers an escape from prison and goes with Brendan and the Bandits to try to stop Alexandra from gaining control of the ivy.

Prue ends up in North Wood and finds the Mystics, who discover Alexandra's plan. They rouse the citizens of North Wood and form a militia. Prue rides to find the Bandits to ask for their help and with Curtis, they arrange for the temporary truce and formation of the Wildwood Irregulars. When they are about to be defeated by the Coyote army, the Avian army arrives and turns the tide of the battle. After Prue's brother is saved by the trees, Brendan shoots Alexandra with an arrow and she is consumed by the ivy. They ivy is sent to sleep, and the Wildwood Irregulars march to South Wood to demand a change in government. Owl Rex and the other birds are released from prison, and as Prue leaves with Mac for home, there are plans for the formation of a new government. Curtis decides to remain, having taken the oath of the Bandits, and the friends part ways.

Becca's visit

Becca Boelzner came to visit CU yesterday. She was here for maybe 36 hours. I picked her up from the airport at 9, Sunday evening. Unfortunately, I missed the split which leads to Boulder and instead stayed on 70 until I hit Golden. It was probably a good 20 miles out of the way.

We woke up early and after eggs for breakfast we went to Imig. I showed her around a bit and then let her into the practice rooms to warm up for her lesson with Erika. After orchestra, which she came to see, she said her lesson had gone really well. We had just enough time to go to The Sink for lunch before studio class. Rachel, Robbie, and I played again in cello class, and then I skipped the rest of violin class after walking into Chas' class accidentally, then finding the door to C191 locked.

Becca dropped her viola off at my place and we walked down to Boulder Tea House. She got a really cool tea with a flower in her glass. It opened up and bloomed when it was ready. Then we walked up and down Pearl Street and looked around the Boulder Bookstore.

We walked back to my car and met Ryan at Dark Horse Saloon at 8. JiHye and Tim showed up a bit later. We had a few drinks and played darts and it was a great time. Sadly, the weather was horrible and she barely got to see the mountains in the morning on the drive to the airport. Hopefully the weather will be much better when she comes back in Jan / Feb for her audition.

Ich weiß nicht

I had a fairly relaxing day, although I picked up my rehaired bow and cleaned the apartment. I am so excited for Becca to visit tomorrow! I'm actually not sure how many days she's staying; she told me but I forgot. She will probably spend two nights here. I have a bit more money than I had when Emma came and visited. I hope the weather will also be better; it was foggy and cold and Emma could barely see the mountains, though she was enthusiastic nonetheless. It has been a mild November and we have time I'm planning on going up Flagstaff road. We could hike a short way, or I could drive to one of the main panoramic spots. There are picnic tables in one spot so maybe we could take up lunch - perhaps Half Fast Subs.

Anyway, what I meant to say when I got back on my computer was how poor my German has become. While Emma was here she put a few random word magnets on my fridge. I just added 50 or so more, and I hope to make a few cogent sentences. I read one or two Grimm's fairy tales in Boulder Bookstore. I have yet to make time to practice my German and translate the Reclam books I brought with me. It's such slow work, and I'm so conditioned to follow the path of least resistance (a product of today's 'instant gratification' philosophy) that I haven't even started translating one tale.

In the morning hopefully I'll skype with Westrey! I am really hoping she comes back to Colorado in the spring at least, and we can hang out often. I miss her dearly. Not many people care enough to take the time to skype with me. I know I'm blessed to have several such friends.

Thanksgiving

It's been a relaxed Thanksgiving so far, today. I stayed up last night finding a satisfactory photo editor (GIMP 2 + UFRaw). Besides saturation tweaks, photo straightening, and noise reduction or sharpening, I mainly need software to combine my images for bracketed photos and panoramas. I spent the night learning all the controls for my camera, customizing the few buttons I can. Still trying to figure out if Depth-of-Field Preview is useful to me. I'm really enthusiastic about learning photography as an art. The Black Friday sales tempted me to purchase a bigger SDHC card as well as a wrist strap and lens brush. I'm sure I'll fill up my current 8 gig card in China.

I haven't been out at all yet today. Lina told me about a lady who has students over for holidays if they are in town (at least Thanksgiving). So I will head out to be picked up in a half hour. But so far I just ate and took a shower and then Mom called. We actually had a great conversation about creativity (she had commented on my recent status about my difficulties being creative) and I'm glad she called. We don't often connect and communicate so well anymore, which makes me disappointed in myself, particularly around holidays. Martha and Brian and the kids are in Mississippi for Thanksgiving, so Mom's home alone and is under the weather.

While on the phone with Mom, Dad called, and I called him back after Mom and I wrapped up our call. I told him about my recent obsession with photography and hopefully we'll get to go shooting together after my recital, assuming he can still come visit in February. I hadn't mentioned to him that Vanderbilt invited me to go to China with the orchestra over Christmas, so I told him all about that. It was really nice talking to my family (I'll call Martha in a minute) and I wish we were together today.

After what I hope is a feast (Mom suggested I bring my host flowers, but I don't have the money and I assume all the shops are closed) I'll relax for the rest of the day and listen to my new free (with trial) audiobook that I downloaded from Audibon. I decided to buy Don Quixote. I think I'll go read East of Eden and Les Miserables (eventually), but thought something a bit more fantastic would be the best option for listening. It'll be nice to fall asleep to something besides Rob Inglis reading LOTR, I think.

The Blue Horses

In the old days there were horses of many colors. They were happy living together in the fields and meadows of the wide lands, before men came to live there. They were free to roam the many hills, drink from swift streams, and run and play in the bright sun. One day men moved to the horses’ country and built a large house and many high fences all around. The kindly old men picked apples and the horses learned to come at the sound of their voices. And the men harvested hay and fed the horses during the cold winters. The old men loved the beautiful colors of the horses and they let them be free.

After a time the old men died and were buried, and their sons ran the farms. They said to themselves, “Look how strong and swift these horses are! If we could harness their strength surely our work would be much easier. Our fathers gave them apples and hay for nothing. What profit is there in that? ” Then they lured many horses into their barns with promises of apples and hay.

The men separated the horses according to their color. There was a barn for the brown horses, a barn for the red horses, a barn for the white horses, a barn for the black horses, a barn for the yellow horses, a barn for the grey horses, and a barn for the blue horses.

But soon the blue horses became restless, and they threw off their harnesses and called to the other horses, “Friends! Why are we still letting ourselves be confined by the fences of men? Let us roam the wild hills again and graze where we may in the meadows! Let us drink from fresh streams and play in the afternoon sun! We should not spend all our lives pulling the heavy plows of men!”

The other colored horses thought for a while and then answered, “But we are so comfortable here, being warm in the barns at night and eating the apples and hay the men bring us! The work is not so bad, and surely the men will let us go roam free for a time, if we promise to come back when they call.”

But the men had grown accustomed to the horses’ work and were afraid to let them go. They didn't feed any of the horses for punishment, and the brown, red, white, black, yellow, and grey horses resented the blue horses.

The blue horses were indignant and broke through their barn doors and tried to escape. But the men had built high fences and the horses could not jump over the gates. The next morning after the men had caught them, the blue horses were whipped in front of all the others. And from then on the others were afraid to talk with the blue horses, and they were shunned.

Time went on and as the horses multiplied, their pens seemed to shrink with overcrowding, and there was not enough hay for all the horses. Over time the other horses had worked so much that they slowly forgot how to talk. But the blue horses kept to themselves and waited for their chance to escape. The young colts and fillies never knew how to find food and water except from men. They were trained and ridden with saddles, and the men had so many horses they began to race them for sport. And the men also carried guns with them, riding in red coats, and with the help of many dogs they chased foxes and deer. The men took special delight in hunting and killing. The blue horses hated the saddles but feigned eagerness to join the hunt. They put up with the reins and spurs and whips until the men decided to ride through the countryside. When they rode into the forest, each blue horse threw off his rider and raced to freedom. The men swore, and those who had escaped injury shot their guns at the escaping horses. But all the blue horses escaped unharmed, and eventually they ripped the saddles off their backs by scraping against trees. 

The blue horses sped far away, but every open field they had once known was surrounded by high fences. Many trees in the forests had been hewn and taken away to new sawmills. There were houses and docks on the edges of lakes, and bridges ran over the streams. The land was not free, and the horses could find no home. They said to themselves, "How is it that man can claim the very hills and streams and forests by chaining the land with fences?" And they were at a loss as to where to go. Some desired to head north over the mountains, others west around the great lakes, and still others thought it best to follow the river through the valley. But no blue horses returned to the stables of men, and all sought peace in freedom. So they scattered to the four winds, and none now know where any blue horses dwell, or if any are still living their wild, free life.

November so far

I realize I haven't been blogging nearly as much as I would like to be. Part of that is being limited to spotty internet at home. I couldn't find a practice room earlier so I've hung out in the library for a few hours today.

The 2nd Colorado Youth Sinfonia concert was kind of a mess. Mary and I left in a hurry after a Takacs concert (so worth it) and I left my music in my locker. I had to mark up clean copies before the concert and during intermission, which was flustering. Plus, I always feel awkward giving an A to the orchestra and I never know when Basil will walk out or when to stand. My Hindemith solo was solid, luckily, but I was not focused for the other pieces. I was less than pleased that Basil called me out with others who hadn't paid their dues. I was hoping they might start paying me. I don't have $70, much less the gas money it takes to drive there, even when I split it with Mary. We will be playing Dvorak's String Serenade (not next rotation, unfortunately) so I guess I'll stick it out until then. It has not been as much fun as I was hoping. Next year I'll definitely be too busy for something that doesn't pay to eat up my Tuesday nights.

The James Buswell masterclass went so well! I was very happy with how the Poulenc went, especially considering how quickly Hsiao-Ling and I put it together. The piano part is harder than the violin part, and she came ready to play. I really enjoyed working with her, and I hope she plays on all my pieces for my recital. Buswell liked my playing and really addressed my tension issues (making me aware that my headbanging also affects my upper back) and worked on adding color to the tender sections of the music. I also hadn't read that Poulenc made the work somewhat programmatic with the gunshot which killed Lorca and Neveu's plane crash. His comparison of Poulenc's sudden mood changes with the art of Marcel Marceau (particularly The Maskmaker) was wonderful.

Brune's birthday party after Tee's recital was a ton of fun. Someone deleted all my good pictures, but oh well. I suppose it was probably Brune, and she has that right. Ryan set up beer pong in his garage and taught us a game with dice. The rest of the night after cake was dancing until I passed out on the couch.

In orchestra we are playing Sibelius 2, Ravel Daphis et Chloe (suite 2), and Debussy Fetes. The Ravel is by far the most challenging. The Saint Saens Piano Trio is coming along, although we really need to get into the music now that we have the notes under our fingers. It has the potential to be excellent, and I think we'll get there. It was helpful to have a coaching with Judith and play in cello class.

Last night I was bored and didn't want to practice. I don't especially want to practice right now. So I went for a walk downtown with my camera. I like night photography, though I really needed to take the tripod. The Boulder Bookstore was still open, and I stepped in to warm up and read a fairy tale by Hesse. I didn't practice much when I got back, but got through half my scales. It was better than sitting in front of the computer all night.

Now I should try to find a practice room again and be productive until work at 4.

Photography

I've been obsessed over the past year or two with cameras. I love my Olympus PEN E-PL2, but I still rewatch reviews of cameras I could never afford. I'm thinking that if I save for a few years I could eventually upgrade to an OM-D E5. If it could drop under $800 during that time, I'd probably take the plunge, assuming I don't need the money for more important things.

While the lenses I would like to get which are made for the m4/3 line are prohibitively expensive (Panasonic's 20mm pancake and 45-200mm telephoto are within striking distance) I've learned that old legacy lenses are plentiful and cheap, and only need a $10 adapter. I should have the money when my next paycheck comes in for a Zuiko 35-70mm lens (70-140mm equivalent, with the m43 crop factor). It's not a far reaching zoom lens compared to Panasonic (400mm) but at a quarter of the price, I can afford it without cutting into my food budget. Plus, I'm curious and excited to try using a manual focus only lens.

I'm not really sure why I got so caught up in cameras. I'm looking forward to whenever I can go shooting with my Dad. I think of myself as an artistic person. Music is my specialty but I'm not a 100% music-all-the-time musician. Which makes me nervous, practically, when I have to go out and win a job, competing against more dedicated and more talented players. I guess I dabble. I don't like to be pinned down. I'll write a bit of poetry or draw when the mood takes me. Photography is another creative activity I'm learning to enjoy more seriously.

I hope I'll be happy as a musician, if I can make it professionally. I think that the music changes enough (if not too quickly!) to keep the job from becoming repetitive. Chas brought up a good point in one of my lessons, though, about why musicians might get burned out or disillusioned in orchestra.

"We're taught all our lives to be individuals, to make creative choices, and to think for ourselves. Then after 20 some years of that, we get into an orchestra where we have no creative voice. Unless you're the concertmaster or section leader, you don't even get to make your own bowings or fingerings. Someone else tells you how to play. You might think that a certain phrase should be interpreted this way. But it doesn't matter, because it's not up to you."
 

Back to photography, I think if I pursue it as an artform, it'll become part of who I am. It'll be something that defines me. I'm always thinking about traditions and how I wish I were known for something unique. "As I always say..." For some reason I believe that repetition develops substantive meaning, as long as it's not a result of superficial planning. I suppose all that matters is what an action means to me. If I want to consider my habit of falling asleep to LOTR something special, that's my right.

Emma takes lots of pictures of birds. I like taking pictures of wildlife, which is a main reason I want a telephoto lens. I don't think of myself as a street photographer. I'm not confident enough to bother people taking their picture. I love architecture, but I'd really like to do something special with landscape photography. What I like about photography is how it changes my perspective of my surroundings. But most of all, it's part of my love of travel. There's nothing I'd rather do than explore new places, and every great photo brings me back to a special place.

Poulenc

I'm playing the first movement of the Poulenc Violin Sonata for the masterclass given by James Buswell on Thursday. I've been working very hard on it for the past week or so, but only just met with my pianist Hsiao-Ling Lin this morning in a lesson with Lina. I've been listening and practicing with recordings so I felt that the first run through was much better than my usual collaborations. Hsiao-Ling was Nicole's accompanist and I played the Eric Whitacre 5 Hebrew Songs with them for her recital. I hope Hsiao-Ling can play with me for my entire recital. She's a fantastic pianist.

It was a wise decision on my part to do research on the piece. I don't think my dissertation that had analysis ever came through InterLibrary Loan... But I have learned about the context of the piece. It was commissioned by Ginette Neveu and was completed in 1943. Poulenc dedicated the sonata to Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca, who was murdered during the Spanish Civil War. The second movement is supposed to be evocative of guitar playing, based on a poem called The Six Strings.

http://www.nytimes.com/books/99/09/12/specials/lorca-poet.html

The guitar
makes dreams weep.
The sobbing of lost
souls
escapes through its round
mouth.
And like the tarantula
it spins a large star
to trap the sighs
floating in its black,
wooden water tank.

Though Poulenc later revealed in at interview with Claude Rostand that he felt that the Violin Sonata was a failure because of it's artificial pathos, I've really embraced the work and am especially looking forward to playing the last two movements. The second movement is so gorgeous.

It's been great learning the background of the composition, yet I still am having difficulty deciding how to integrate that information into an intelligent interpretation. This piece was not only a medium (solo string writing) that Poulenc disliked, it's mood is vastly different from his better known chamber works for winds. This is obviously due in part to being written in Paris during the German occupation of WWII. So it's less witty and tongue-in-cheek writing, influenced by Parisian cafe music. And he clearly believed that "the bow is the furthest thing from the breath." Poulenc, known for spinning out tuneful melodies, provides very little for the violin.

I enjoyed reading about French music and while the Poulenc is, in my view, much angrier with sorrowful overtones than typical French music, it's still French at its core. It's almost a defiantly French piece. I love playing it and I hope it goes very well on Thursday.

Opera and a Bunny photo shoot

Extra opera rehearsals started today. We're playing Stravinsky's The Rake's Progress. There are a lot of awkward passages for everyone and it's a counting nightmare in certain sections, but things are getting better.  We ran the entire opera with the singers tonight, for the first time. It took two rehearsals and a total of 5 hours, but we got everything done. The opera is growing on me and I'm starting to like it a lot. Putting it with the singers makes some sections make more sense. I've always enjoyed pit playing, and it's been fun having Sarah Cranor as my standpartner this rotation. Our conductor is really fun to work under and he gets a lot out of us. But we have a ton of work left to do before Friday, and I'm tired just thinking about the many hours of rehearsals that will be necessary. Of course, it's after 2 am and I rehearsed for 5 hours today (plus I got in an hour of personal practice time on Sibelius).

I'm too lazy to write a separate post but I should record that I drove up to Cheyenne with Brune to take the violin sectional audition. I was cut after the first round, but Brune won a spot with the symphony. It was a good experience though and went much better than my Huntsville audition. I was glad to spend a little time with Brune and get to know her a bit better. I drove straight to Denver for the Colorado Youth Sinfonia concert. My giant Hindemith solo (op. 44, 4) went very well, though some of the other pieces were shaky.

Tonight, after my late practice session, I saw a bunny cross the road in front of the music school. It let me get very close, and I followed it along a wall and almost caught it. I touched it but was afraid I'd hurt it if I tried harder to catch it. I went home and got my camera. On the way, I saw the raccoon again and got an action shot of it running away. Then I found the bunny again and had a little photo shoot. It was adorable. 

I've been rereading Watership Down, too.

GBYO

So on Mondays I have been going with Ryan and Nina to help coach sectionals for the Greater Boulder Youth Orchestras. The older group is around 11 years of age, and the younger group is just starting out with tape still on their fingerboards. We've done seating auditions for both groups now. Being on the other side of an audition was interesting. Some of the kids are really cute or they made funny mistakes, but luckily I didn't feel the need to laugh too much. We joke a bit about crushing kids' dreams, but we've taken it pretty seriously and done our best.

Nina is so much better prepared for teaching kids than either Ryan or I are. "So, can anyone tell me what the dynamic at C is? And what dynamic do you think you played? Do you think we can try it again and this time make sure to play really quietly at C? Remember, how much bow do we use to play quietly? That's right, good job!"

Teaching is every bit as hard as I imagined / feared it would be. I'm not great with coming up with kid friendly mnemonics to help them remember certain things. I guess I would have them play slowly note by note if necessary to get the right notes. And I'd beat out rhythms to help them. And try to show examples of how to play certain passages they are having trouble with. But it's hard to come up with the right words to explain how they can play better.

I'm very grateful for the experience, and we have a pretty good time together. I'd like to continue to volunteer there if I can. I've finally learned all the older kids' names, and hopefully Nina and Ryan and I can build a rapport with them.

In the older group, there are some characters. I'm not sure which one corrected Nina on her pronunciation of Gounod, but there are some smart kids, and a few have an attitude. One kid named Fletcher talks continuously, and tried to impress us with his knowledge of calculus. Good for him, we thought, but we don't really care about his math skills if he's not attentive during our sectional. Even if I have no idea how to effectively run a sectional for kids. The one girl in the older group, Mary Ann, asked me a ton of questions like how old I was and where I was from and why I was there if I wasn't getting paid.

Ryan joked about Chinese mothers and parenting in general after Mary Ann came in for her audition. "You work hard, win concertmaster." I had heard of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, and he mentioned that it was a really good book about a Chinese mother's philosophy of parenting. Much of the book is tongue in cheek, and I'd be interested in reading it, if I have time.

Fletcher was unaware of one passage picked for the audition, and not only asked if we were sure, but apologized before and after he played. "I'm deeply sorry that I did so poorly." His tone wasn't very humble, though.

One of the younger kids asked, "So did I fail the audition?"

We scored them with Rhythm, Intonation, Tone, and Musicianship factors, and arrived at a unanimous list to give to the conductor(s). I hope they weren't simply seated from first to last, but were mixed up so that all the weakest players aren't all in the back together.

Decklin, the youngest kid in the older group, when asked in his audition to play the beginning of the Telemann overture they were playing (Don Quixote) said, "You want me to play from nothing to B?" "Yes, play from the beginning to B, please," Ryan repeated, and we tried not to laugh.

I hope we teach them well. They are good kids.

Busking Music

So after my first taste busking, I really want to go to Pearl Street as much as I can with friends and play fun music and make a few bucks. I sent a message around to everyone about busking music and chamber music parties, and people seem down for both. Brune messaged me last night about busking today but when I got to the library I didn't find a ton of good violin duets. It took a bit of searching but I think we have enough classical duets.

Now I'd like to find arrangements or arrange my own versions of popular songs or jazz / fiddle tunes. I was so excited about the possibilities that I couldn't focus to practice and have started working on some Mark O'Connor fiddle tunes from the Appalachia Waltz CD. There's a great arrangement for two violins of Appalachia Waltz online, and I might just buy it because (especially with only Finale NotePad) figuring out all of the notes is a painstaking process for me. I think Chief Sitting in the Rain would be lots of fun, but it's fast and that's slowing me down. I think there are octaves at the end which would only be in unison with two violins playing. Once I get a few songs done, hopefully next weekend Brune and I can go busk.

Lauren has a nice collection of quartet music for busking that we used last time. I will definitely have to steal some of the arrangements. I know I'm being ambitious but I'd really like to be able to arrange my own music. It will be a big test for my ear. I will try to get some Christmas songs (that Lauren doesn't have) ready in time, though idk how late in the year we will busk. We were joking about caroling with this great fugue, though.

Sushi and Ice Cream

Lauren tagged me in a note last night about waking up early and practicing together. I didn't have the best sleep of my life, mainly because my radiator turned on yesterday and though I think it's been in the 'closed' position all along, it feels like it's 90 degrees in my room. I was awake around 7:30 and finally got a practice room and started practicing about an hour later. After 2 1/2 hours of scales I took a break for lunch. I practiced until my lesson at 2 with Lina, which went fairly well. I caught the tail end of Emily's lesson where Emily shot me a dirty look for making her nervous about playing the Brahms concerto. Lina noticed my uncomfortable set up and cut a strip of cork to add to my chinrest. Following my lesson I bought some glue and found a paperclip and raised my chinrest. It immediately felt exponentially more comfortable! I know it will help my shoulder, jaw, and neck tension issues.

I found my way to Norlin Library and amazingly had little trouble finding The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights adapted by Steinbeck. Lauren had invited me to sushi after her quartet's rehearsal, and I headed back to Imig to meet them at 7:15. Lauren, Nina, Leslie, Greta and I walked to a restaurant on the Hill, near Nina's place. I only got one Alaska roll, and wished that I had the money for more. Amy joined us at the restaurant. I think Nina was the first to suggest we get ice cream, and we all piled into the bus to go to Pearl Street. The ice cream was delicious and we continued our insane conversation for another hour or two. I think it was decided that I had the perfect laugh for revealing an evil, masterminded plot.

I wish I could capture or match the crazy energy of Leslie, Lauren, and Amy. I'm just not that fun. I was thinking on the walk back how lucky I was to be here. I'm sure I would have had a grand time back in Vienna, but I think I would have been lonely. Here, I'm surrounded by friends who make me laugh and be happy.

Dark Horse Bar and Grill

Lauren and Leslie and Brune went up to Fort Collins and won their auditions today. Lauren invited me and a bunch of other people out to the Dark Horse Bar and Grill, which is a really cool place for drinks. Ryan and I met halfway there, and it wasn't a far walk at all. The place was bigger than I expected and a really cool, kinda quirky place; typical Boulder style. Ryan was kind enough to buy me a few drinks, and everyone had a good time.

Amy and Emily and Lauren and I were trying to remember old childhood songs and the accompanying hand motions. I was excited people remembered a few that I grew up with.

Oh Miss Susie had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell, Miss Susie went to heaven and the steamboat went to hell-o operator, please give me number nine...

And then the one about Mary Mack, with the elephants that jumped so high they touched the sky.

Kate and Adrian came and said hi but didn't stay long. When Lauren, Amy and JiHye left (their roommate came to pick them up) Ryan, Emily, Joey and I played a few rounds of foosball and then a game of pool. It was a ton of fun and I'm so happy here having such great friends.

People are going hiking at Chautauqua tomorrow so I better get some rest.

Emma's Composer/ Blair Fanfic

Composer/ Blair Fanfic

Emma Dansak

1. ESSAYS IN JIMMY’S CLASS

            “Hey, Clara, Robby,” said Johannes, sliding into a desk near the front. “How was you guys’ weekend?”

            “Awesome!” said Robby. “I went out and had totally wild parties with all my friends.”

            “No you didn’t,” said Clara. “You stayed in your room by yourself and played with sock puppets.”

            Robby frowned, as if the idea rung a bell.

            “Again,” Clara added. “How was your weekend, Johannes?”

            “Pretty good,” said the ickle sophomore, glancing around at his illustrious peers. “I mostly just chilled out and worked on my beard.” He stroked his chin.

            “It’s looking pretty good,” said Robby.

            “Thanks!” said Johannes.

            Wiggy and Franz came in. Johannes’s eyes lit up at the sight of Wiggy, and he sat up straight and stopped stroking his chin. “Gosh, I hope he’ll sit with me!” he thought anxiously. His heart leapt when Franz motioned towards them, and Wiggy followed him to their desks.

            “Hey, guys!” squeaked Franz.

            Johannes stared at Wiggy, who had sat down and was rustling through his Rucksack, a searching frown on his face. If only Johannes could be more like Wiggy! His firm jaw, his stubby little fingers like sausages of glory, his unkemptable hair buzzing with all the ordered disorder of a beehive. Wiggy was everything Johannes wanted to be. Even to sit in the room with him was in some ways torturous, because he knew Wiggy’s glory was unattainable by mere mortals such as himself, but this anxiety was mostly overwhelmed by the sheer bliss that came from simply being around such greatness.

            “What’s that, there?” asked Clara, as Wiggy withdrew a paper from the Rucksack and slammed it triumphantly on the table.

            “Essay,” grunted Wiggy, arranging his Rucksack beside his desk.

            Johannes’s heart leapt to his throat. “Oh,” he breathed, “can I... can I read it?”

            “Sure.” Wiggy held the paper out to Johannes, who took it with trembling hands and bulging eyes.

            “Let’s do an essay swap!” Franz suggested, and everyone got out their essays. Wiggy had Clara’s, Clara had Franz’s, Franz had Robby’s, and Robby had Johannes’s. And Johannes had Wiggy’s.

            “It’s good, Franz,” said Clara after some time, holding out the essay between two fingers and giving it a short shake so that the many pages flapped against each other, “it’s just so long...”

            “A lovely piece of writing, Robert,” said Franz, “if not necessarily the most cohesive.”

            “Pretty good,” remarked Wiggy. “For a woman and all. Pretty good.”

            “This is really nice work, Johannes,” said Robby. “I mean, really nice. It flows beautifully and organically, it holds together really well, it’s intelligent but not dry, it’s not super long...”

            Johannes wasn’t listening. His eyes were darting back and forth across Wiggy’s essay. A bead of sweat formed on his brow.

            “...um, yeah, clear thesis, good imagery...”

            Johannes flipped a page so quickly it almost ripped and read on.

            “...just, overall, really good job.”

            By now everyone was looking at Johannes.

            “Hey, Hans?” said Robby.

            Johannes still ignored him. He was frenzied, entranced, visibly shaking. Suddenly he leapt from his seat, snatched his essay from Robby’s hand, and began to rip it into a billion pieces.

            “Hey!” cried Robby, over the panicked sound of ripping pages. “What are you doing? It was good!”

            Johannes kept ripping. He began to rip the larger rips into smaller ones. The group watched him in stunned silence.

            “You dumbass,” said Clara.

            When he was finished, Johannes scooped up all the pieces and ran sobbing from the room.

            “Guess he liked it,” said Wiggy, lifting his slightly battered essay from Johannes’s old desk.

            “Guess so,” said Robby.

            The bell rang. All the students who were milling around headed to their seats. “Hey guys,” said Jimmy, beaming. “Hope you all had a good weekend!”

            “Hi, Jimmy,” chorused the class. “Our weekend was good. How was yours?”

            “Oh, it was great, thanks for asking,” Jimmy answered. “I went to the annual meeting of the Plainchant Lovers Society. We had conferences all day.”

            “Sounds like a FRICKIN BLAST,” said Dick.

            Everyone shushed him.

            “Hey, I saw Johannes leaving the room with some ripped up pieces of paper,” Jimmy said. “He looked like he was crying. Does anyone know... what’s...”

            The whole class groaned and looked at Wiggy, who shrank in his seat.

            “Uh-oh,” said Jimmy. “Wiggy, did you overwhelm him with your glory again?”

            Wiggy nodded sheepishly.

            “EVERY DAMN TIME,” said Clara.

            “Man,” said Dick loudly, “what a wimp!”

            “Okay, first things first,” said Jimmy. “Everyone get out your essays.” A wave of paper noises rolled through the room. “Now, before we turn these in, did anyone have any questions about--”

            The door burst open and Wolfy strode in, headphones blaring around his neck, audible to the entire room. He stopped short and looked around. “Wait, what?” he said. “I thought class started at 9:35??”

            “It starts at 9:30,” Jimmy reminded him.

            “Oh,” sad Wolfy.

            I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHIP MY HAI

            “Wait, what’s that on everyone’s desks?” he asked.

            “That’s the essay,” said Jimmy. “The one on starfish.”

            “Ooooooh...” said Wolfy, “....shhhhit.” He glanced around and then up at Jimmy. “I think I left it in my, uh, locker,” he said. “Can I run and get it?”

            “Where’s your locker?”

            “Um, it’s... you know, like, ...around here.”

            ND FORTH I WHIP MY HAIR BACK AND FORTH I WHI

            “Pretty close,” he finished.

            “All right, go get it.”

            Wolfy scampered out. The door slammed behind him.

            “Okay,” said Jimmy, “now, any questions about the paper?”

            Dick raised his hand and began to speak without waiting to be called on. “I made sort of a multi-media, sort of virtual reality type presentation,” he said, holding up a jewelcase. “Instead of an essay. Is that all right?”

            “Um, I guess so,” said Jimmy.

            “Oh, good,” said Dick. “Also it’s thirteen hours long.”

            “Ummm, okay.”

            “Also you can only watch it in my room.” Hugo nudged him and told him to say ‘no homo.’ “No homo.”

            Bruckner, who had been meekly raising his hand the whole time, emitted a small cough. “I have a question,” he said.

            “Go for it!”

            Bruckner held up 3 different esays. “I couldn’t decide which one I liked the best,” he said. “Could you grade all 3 and take the best one? Or maybe the average? Or even the lowest?”

            Hugo rolled his eyes, plucked the middle draft from Bruckner’s hand, and gave it to Jimmy.

            “Mine doesn’t quite reach the length requirement,” said Web. “Is that okay?”

            Jimmy took Web’s paper and looked at it. It read:

            the sar f i h

                        v  G

                          m      nclk

              quod pppppb z  uy j

                                                w

                                                  XXxxxxxxx

            “Web, what language is this in?” Jimmy asked.

            “Arnie made it up,” said Web. “We’re trying to think of what to call it. I’m partial to Parseltongue.”

            “We can’t call it Parseltongue!” said Arnie for the hundredth time.

            Jimmy was distracted as more and more students stacked their papers in his arms. One caught his eye. “Hey, Philip, I dunno if copying and pasting the word ‘starfish’ 5000 times counts as filling the word count.”

            “There’s more,” said Philip.

            Jimmy turned the page.

             o                     w                      o

       o        o            w        o            o        w

   o               o     w                o    o                 w

w                      w                      o

            “That’s the ocean,” Philip pointed out.

            “Right,” said Jimmy. “Oh, Cage, what the hell is this?”

            “I put a wet starfish on people’s faces and these are the noises they made,” said Cage. “I arranged them *IN* the shape of a starfish.”

            “Where did you find a... oh, nevermind. Okay, is this everyone’s? Except Wolfy’s?”

            “And Johannes’s,” scoffed Dick. A few of his friends made scoffing noises. Clara glared at them. “What?” said Dick.

            Sibelius raised his hand politely. “Oh, and you’re still working on the one that was due a few weeks ago.” Sibelius nodded. “How’s that coming?”

            “Pretty good.”

            Wolfy burst in the door, headphones still blaring, still Willow Smith, holding out a crisply papered essay. “Here it is!” he panted.

            “All right, good,” said Jimmy. “Let me just go and put these in my office so I don’t forget, and then we’ll start on our unit with rainbows. I’m so excited to do this with you guys! I couldn’t even sleep last night.”

            Jimmy left. Wolfy slid down into the first right corner seat, the last one available.

            “Did you just write that just now?” asked Robby.

            “I DUNNO,” said Wolfy. “I DUNNO. MAYBE?”

2.   IN WHICH DICK ASKS WIGGY IF HE WANTS TO GO TO SPORTSMANS AFTER RECITAL

            Wiggy was in the library, hunched over some work. His grand face was clouded and fists grubby with concentration. He was writing a paper on Napoleon. “FUCK NAPOLEON!!!!!!!” he screeched suddenly, erasing his paper so hard it ripped.

            Dick walked up. “Hey, Wiggy, want to go to Sportsman’s after recital?” Dick asked.

            Wiggy scribbled seriously.

            Dick tried again. “Hey, Wiggy?” he said. After a moment’s hesitance, he placed his hand lightly on Wiggy’s shoulder.

            Wiggy spun around. “Was!!” he said.

            “Wanna grab Sportsman’s after recital?”

            Wiggy stared at him, then cupped his ear. “WAS?”

            “I said, want to get Sportsman’s--”

            Wiggy shook his head, tapped an open notebook beside him, and handed Dick a pen.

            “Oh,” said Dick, and wrote his question. Wiggy looked at it, scribbled a word under it, and looked up.

            “(awesome non-recreatable scribble in my notebook)”

            WAS??? wrote Dick.

            Wolfy came over. “Oh, he’s having a deaf day, is he?” he asked.

            YES, Wiggy wrote. Dick, assuming Wiggy was answering his question rather than Wolfy’s, since he was assuming he couldn’t have heard Wolfy’s, gave Ludwig a thumbs up and moved to leave, but Wolfy stopped him and plucked the conversation book from his hands. He began to write seriously. When he put it down there were fifty-two small penises covering the page.

            THANKS A TON, WOLF-LAME, wrote Wiggy.

            “That’s my portrait of Dick,” said Wolfy.

            Dick saw the penises and thought of the word “come.” An idea “came” to him. “Hey, you could come too, Wolfy,” said Dick.

            “Oh sure,” said Wolfy. “A beer after recital would be cool. I’m playing and all.”

            “Then I’ll be sure to skip. Just kidding!” he added hastily, seeing the hurt rise in Wolfy’s eyes.

3.   IN WHICH RECITAL

The program for recital read:

Polonnaise and Kinkywaltz in G-double flat augmented minor, mit cadenza

LISZT FERENÇ, Klavier

Whatever the last guy played,

but Backwards, Hands-Crossed, Blindfolded, and Tipsy

WOLFGANG MOZART, Klavier

My Humps

Alma Mahler

4.   DR. ROSE

            “...But of course, there’s no real answer to this question,” Dr. Rose finished. “The beauty of music -- the genius of music lilke this, the -- what’s miraculous about it, is that we can’t explain... aswers like this. All we can do, is wonder. Did Brahms intentionally tonicize the B flat here, and should the listener hear it as such, or is it simply a twinkling coincidence, a gentle subconscious recollection of a time before the ravages of formal expansion and tonal breakdown, hearkening back to a childhood innocence for which we all must pine. And that’s so beautiful, because it allows us to have this music, this wonderful masterpiece, this huge gift from Brahms and the cosmos -- cosmos, you know, that’s from the Greek, Kosmos, meaning “order,” “arrangement,” to put an army into order -- and that’s what Brahms is doing, he’s... he’s not even Romantic, he’s post-romantic, but he’s still a classicist... in the true, COSMIC sense of order... he’s an ancient Homeric warrior... and he gives us this... this gift.... and that’s the mystery of love. That’s the miracle of genius. And that’s why MUSIC is truly the most sublime of all art forms. Or at least that’s what we like to believe.”

            Brahms popped his head in. “GUTEN TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG”

            “JOHANNES BRAHMS???” chorused the class.

            Brahms cleared his throat. “I just wanted you all to know that--”

            “NOOOOOOO!” cried Dr. Rose, sprinting to the door.

            Brahms stuck his arm in the room and waved around a yellow cereal box. “--that I’ve developed a really sweet new cereal and it’s going to be available in the munchies starting this weekend.”

            Rattle rattle, went the box.

            “Raisin Brahms!” gasped a student. “That’s my favorite cereal.”

            “Oh my gosh,” said Dr. Rose. “I was terrified you were going to answer the question.”

            “What question? About the B flat?” Brahms frowned and shook his head dismissively. “No way, Michael Alec. I just wanted everyone to know about Raisin Brahms.”

            “Oh! Good!” said Dr. Rose. “You know, I’ve seen that around in the grocery store, and I’ve always wondered if--”

            “Although,” Brahms went on, “it’s really pretty simple. The B-flat in measure 2 is just a --”

            “NOOOOOOOO SHUT UP!” squawked Dr. Rose, limbs flailing ungainlily. He shoved Brahms out of the door and slammed it.

5. SPORTSMAN’S

            “You eat wings like you were born to,” commented Hugo, his voice swelling with admiration.

            Wiggy tore the last ribbon of flesh from the bone, sucked it clean, and tossed it aside. It clattered in the glass plate against the already stripped bones. “Thanks,” Wiggy said, reaching for another wing.

            “So, Ludwig, I beg of you,” entreated Dick, resting his head on his elbow-propped hands in a vaugely homosexual way, staring intentely at the orange-stained object of his inquiry, “would you not agree that the presence of a choir in the last movement of your ninth symphony indicates a shift in the direction of an all-encompassing art form?”

            Wiggy paused, mid-flesh-rip. “Was?”

            “I mean,” Dick said, “would you not say that your artistic need to blend the genres of choir and symphony indicates that the direction music must take is the direction in which the borders between all art forms must be blurred even more strongly?”

            Ludwig squinted, then frowned. “Was??” he barked.

            Dick cleared his throat. “What I mean is, do you--”

            “Dude, Dick, forget about it,” muttered Hugo.

            Wiggy looked helplessly at Wolfy. “He wants to know if he’s your heir,” Wolfy said loudly.

            Wiggy tugged at a lock of his own hair and gave it a puzzled look.

            “Not your HAIR,” said Wolfy, “your ‘HEIR.’” Wiggy waved his hand in the air. “No, with an H, your-- oh, for cryin out loud, never mind it.”

           

            Wiggy went back to gnawing his wing.

            “Look, Dick,” Wolfy said, “how about this. Why don’t you just do what you feel like without worrying about your place in music history or whether or not Beethoven would write like you if he was alive? If you’re too self-conscious about it it doesn’t work. It’s like the subject of an experiment knowing he’s in an experiment. It falls into an infinite vortex of paradox.”

            “Hmmmmmm,” said Dick. “Nope.”

            “Johannes is no better,” Wolfy grumbled, “always burning his work, ‘ooh Wiggy’s shadow, eeeuhuaeuehh.”

            “I’d burn my work, too, if I wrote like Johannes!” crowed Hugo.

            “BUUUUURRN!!” cried Dick. He and Hugo high fived.

            “Good wings,” commented Wiggy.

            “Oh, so you’re not deaf anymore?” said Dick.

            “I’m not what?”

            Jeff-with-a-G came by. “How’s everybody doing over here? Everything okay?”

            “Great!” said Wolfy, nudging his heaping bowl of pickle chips.

            Jeff sassed up his face and stepped back. “Somebody’s sarcastic today!” he said.

            Wolfy frowned. He was sick of Jeff-with-a-G’s sass. “You know what, Jeff?” he snapped.

            “What?”

            Wolfy scowled at the waiter, then ceremoniously threw a handful of pickle chips at him. “Oops, I dropped my pickle chicks,” he said.

6. WHO VOMITED IN A PLASTIC BAG AND LEFT IT UNDER THE SINK?

            “Eeurgh!” shrieked Clara, and emerged from the Mayf bathroom clutching a heavy plastic bag. “Who did this?”

            “Wow, gross!” said Johannes. “I bet it was Wolfy.”

            “No way, man, that’s sick!” said Wolfy.

            “Franz?” said Clara. Franz shook his head, scrunching up his face, offended to be asked.

            “Robert?” she called, and looked around. She began to climb the stairs. “Robert?”

            “He’s here,” Franz pipped. “Try another name.”

            Clara sighed. “Florestan?”

            Silence.

            “Eusebius?”

            After a few moments, a thin voice in a queerly upright accent floated down from the stairs. “What is it?”

            “Did you throw up in a bag and leave it under the sink in the bathroom?”

            “Hm, I don’t know anything about that,” said the voice. “What about you, Florestan?” The voice changed; now it was deep and gruff. “That’s just disgusting,” it declared. The high voice said, “Perhaps Robert knows something about this.” “Good idea,” said the gruff voice. Let’s ask him.”

            Clara rolled her eyes and, turning her head to the interior of the room, found herself making eye contact with Johannes. It lasted a moment too long. She turned away, feeling herself blush.

            Robert was continuing his inquiry upstairs. The high voice said, “Robert, do you know anything about this vomit-in-a-bag business?”

            Normal voice: “No, completely strange to me. Quite disgusting though.”

            “Quite disgusting!”

            “Repulsive!”

            “Though it would explain the queer scent emanating from the bathroom as of late.”

           

            “All right, thanks guys.” Clara headed back down the stairs and poked her head into the kitchen corner. “Wiggy?”

SOME TIME LATER...

            It was Chris.

            “Aw, man, Chris!” everyone groaned. “That’s so gross, dude!”

            “Puh huh huh,” said Chris.

7. GERMAN

            “Man, German is so friggin hard,” said Gustav, flipping through his notes.

            “What the hell is this dative pronoun bullshit?” said Franz “Soups” Von Suppe.

            “And we have this test tomorrow!” said J. J., which stood for Johann Junior.

            The three students sat glumly around the library table. It was simply impossible. How were they ever to become fluent in a language where the pronouns you used changed into one of three manifestations depending on the preposition you used with them? How were they to be able to manage when “der” applies to masculine nouns in the nominative and female nouns in the dative, and they couldn’t even distinguish one from the other? How were they to get by in a language where “schwul” meant “gay” and “schwül” meant “sticky” and they couldn’t pronounce umlauts? What if they wanted to say they were hot and sticky, like the day was really muggy and they had been out walking in the woods or something, to explain why they were all in a room together, bodies drenched in sweat and glinting in the soft light, clad in nothing but small white shorts?

            JJ sighed deeply and looked at the alphabetical list of dativ prepositions in front of him. “Aus außer bei mit...” he muttered, “nach seit, von zu...”

            Something began to click. He glanced at Gustav and Soups. “Aus außer bei mit,” he repeated, “nach seit... von...

            “Guys, I’ve got it!” he cried. Gustav and Soups looked at him, puzzled. He tore a piece of staff paper from his notebook and stole off in the direction of the practice rooms.

8.  TWINKLING LESSONS

            “no, no, that’s not it” said rf, “you... you’ve got to... leonard, just relax.”

            Lenny sighed and dropped his face. “I just don’t know how to do it, Dr. Fountain,” he said. “I can’t twinkle like you. I’m not English and I never will be.”

            “come now” said rf “courage”

            Lenny looked up at his mentor and idol with doleful doe eyes. How would he ever be as great as Robin “Mighty Eagle” Fountain if he couldn’t even twinkle? He gave it another shot.

            “look, you’re, what you’re doing is... grimacing. you’ve got to sort of, just, twinkle. here, like this.” rf twinkled at Lenny.

            Tee hee, thought Lenny.

            “it’s sort of smiling without the mouth,” said rf. “try it. try smiling.”

            Lenny smiled.

            “now make your mouth normal again, but keep your eyes smiling...”

            Lenny dropped the smile.

            “no, your eyes aren’t smiling now”

            Lenny tried to make his eyes smile.

            “no, now you’re just squinting. have courage. the courage to twinkle. like a star.”

            Lenny thought of that great set of Mozart variations and turned his face to the... ceiling of rf’s dim and austere office. He once more tried to twinkle, tried with all of his might.

            “don’t do that, you look constipated.”

            Lenny looked once more with exasperation upon his austere mentor whose hair was like the crest of a mighty wave on a stormy sea and whose psychic power was so extensive that no one could get wireless signal within twenty feet of him. “How I wonder what you are,” he murmured.

            “sorry?” He also looked kind of like Richard Gere.