Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Fa La La La La
Pop Quiz: Fill in the blank. "Tis the season to be ____________________"
I imagine that nearly everyone would say "jolly" and then a few of you might throw in the "fa la la's" for good measure. And believe me, I think it's a good thing. Somebody needs to be jolly. Somebody's halls need to be fully decked with boughs of holly. They need to have pine cones and holly berries, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and on every street corner they need to hear silver bells. Somebody needs to do this because I simply don't have the time.
Thanksgiving is over and between now and December 25th it's high holy days for musicians. The folders of music are set and the performing duds are washed, pressed and hung up, ready for service. The list of gigs is longer than the Black Friday line at Best Buy, and we have gassed up the car so we can race over the river and through the woods to sing a holiday party at Grandmother's house.
If. Only.
Tomorrow the gig taxi leaves at 6:00. That's AM. And it's not for me, it's for the teenager. Fortunately she knows her music, but as for performing duds, I told her she better hang things up, because if they were laying down somewhere, the last thing she would want to discover at 5:15am was a lovely hairball courtesy of the cats. Tomorrow's fun includes the breakfast gig, school (work for me), a lesson, dash home to change into performance black, an "Oh Holy Night" for a memorial service, catching the end of a rehearsal, having another a brief rehearsal, then running home for homework (dishes and grading papers for me), intense music memorization and collapsing in bed. Hello December 1st. Glad to see you once again.
For the next three weeks, our lives will be a variation on that theme. But you know what? I'm actually not complaining. Or if I am (and I'm really not), I don't really mean it. Because as crazy busy as we get at this time of year, we actually wouldn't have it any other way. We love to sing. We love programs and services and chances to share this gift of music and portion of ourselves. So when you hear us muttering about where we need to be when, worrying about our instrument, living in our performance clothes, having too many cookies and cups of punch, organizing and coordinating our calendar daily, and executing each day with military precision, it's OK. We just need to talk through it to make sure we're where we need to be when we need to be with what we need to perform. We're always grateful for December 26th, because the season grinds to a halt as quickly as it began, but I guarantee you, come next fall, we're anxiously awaiting the next invitation to join in the reindeer games.
We simply like to make music anywhere and everywhere we can,
and we wouldn't have it any other way.
Fa La La La La
Pop Quiz: Fill in the blank. "Tis the season to be ____________________"
I imagine that nearly everyone would say "jolly" and then a few of you might throw in the "fa la la's" for good measure. And believe me, I think it's a good thing. Somebody needs to be jolly. Somebody's halls need to be fully decked with boughs of holly. They need to have pine cones and holly berries, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and on every street corner they need to hear silver bells. Somebody needs to do this because I simply don't have the time.
Thanksgiving is over and between now and December 25th it's high holy days for musicians. The folders of music are set and the performing duds are washed, pressed and hung up, ready for service. The list of gigs is longer than the Black Friday line at Best Buy, and we have gassed up the car so we can race over the river and through the woods to sing a holiday party at Grandmother's house.
If. Only.
Tomorrow the gig taxi leaves at 6:00. That's AM. And it's not for me, it's for the teenager. Fortunately she knows her music, but as for performing duds, I told her she better hang things up, because if they were laying down somewhere, the last thing she would want to discover at 5:15am was a lovely hairball courtesy of the cats. Tomorrow's fun includes the breakfast gig, school (work for me), a lesson, dash home to change into performance black, an "Oh Holy Night" for a memorial service, catching the end of a rehearsal, having another a brief rehearsal, then running home for homework (dishes and grading papers for me), intense music memorization and collapsing in bed. Hello December 1st. Glad to see you once again.
For the next three weeks, our lives will be a variation on that theme. But you know what? I'm actually not complaining. Or if I am (and I'm really not), I don't really mean it. Because as crazy busy as we get at this time of year, we actually wouldn't have it any other way. We love to sing. We love programs and services and chances to share this gift of music and portion of ourselves. So when you hear us muttering about where we need to be when, worrying about our instrument, living in our performance clothes, having too many cookies and cups of punch, organizing and coordinating our calendar daily, and executing each day with military precision, it's OK. We just need to talk through it to make sure we're where we need to be when we need to be with what we need to perform. We're always grateful for December 26th, because the season grinds to a halt as quickly as it began, but I guarantee you, come next fall, we're anxiously awaiting the next invitation to join in the reindeer games.
We simply like to make music anywhere and everywhere we can,
and we wouldn't have it any other way.
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Search for Common Sense
So once again, the dirty laundry of the world -- primarily the United States -- is going to be published on the Internet. I think this is being done in the name of "honesty" or "transparency" or "truth" or "justice" or what have you. Frankly, I'm just not buying it.
It's a dilemma, really, because when you get right down to it, I think everybody wants an honest and open government. We want to know what's going on. We want to know that our elected officials are behaving legally and ethically. We want to be sure that everyone is following the rules, because we know when that happens the bad guys always lose and the good guys always win.
Or do they?
It seems that first you need to answer the all-important question: who are the bad guys? And for that matter, who are the good guys?
The answer depends on who you ask, what day it is, which direction the diplomatic winds are blowing, and who is mad at whom at any particular moment. The bad guy is always the other guy. Half the time it doesn't matter which other guy, just so long as it's somebody other than ourselves. The good guy is much easier to identify. It's us, without a doubt. Sometimes others can join us if invited, and usually only if we will somehow benefit from a cooperative venture. But here's the problem: if everybody thinks they are the one true good guy and everybody else is a bad guy, doesn't that mean the world is full of referees who pass down judgments on others...but never on themselves?
Somewhere in this conundrum we are missing a critical, yet simplistic element: common sense. Instead of pausing to consider ramifications down the road, we stampede over all the perceived bad guys, trampling on rules and mowing over common sense. We do this in the name of justice and right -- our right -- which, being the good guy and all, is the most important right there is. It doesn't matter if it affects others negatively. After all, "don't tread on me" didn't exactly have a list of caveats spelled out at the bottom of the flag.
So now lots of countries, especially (but not exclusively) The United States are having to explain countless socio-political blunders that weren't meant for publication, like Russia is stuck up, Canada wears mismatched socks, and the current bad-guy Korea behaves like that crazy Uncle you pray won't show up for Sunday Supper. It's going to take a lot of work to undo these seemingly trivial statements.There are many, many other, far more serious leaks of information as well, and it will take a lot more than a sincere "my bad" and bouquet of flowers.
Using a bit of common sense wouldn't necessarily change our course of action, but it implies, at the very least, that we step back and consider actions and results from all sides, both immediate and long term. Hiding evidence of serious wrongdoing isn't the answer. But tattling on others like toddlers on the playground isn't the answer either. Should we be a global community ready, willing, and able to play dirty in order to suit our needs and exercise our freedom? No.
I can't say whether these leaks should have been made public or not, but I wish the desire to DO right was as strong as the need to BE right. If only everyone employed just a little common sense, maybe we could focus our attention on healing our world-wide community, instead of cleaning up messes everybody else leaves on our global doorstep.
The Search for Common Sense
So once again, the dirty laundry of the world -- primarily the United States -- is going to be published on the Internet. I think this is being done in the name of "honesty" or "transparency" or "truth" or "justice" or what have you. Frankly, I'm just not buying it.
It's a dilemma, really, because when you get right down to it, I think everybody wants an honest and open government. We want to know what's going on. We want to know that our elected officials are behaving legally and ethically. We want to be sure that everyone is following the rules, because we know when that happens the bad guys always lose and the good guys always win.
Or do they?
It seems that first you need to answer the all-important question: who are the bad guys? And for that matter, who are the good guys?
The answer depends on who you ask, what day it is, which direction the diplomatic winds are blowing, and who is mad at whom at any particular moment. The bad guy is always the other guy. Half the time it doesn't matter which other guy, just so long as it's somebody other than ourselves. The good guy is much easier to identify. It's us, without a doubt. Sometimes others can join us if invited, and usually only if we will somehow benefit from a cooperative venture. But here's the problem: if everybody thinks they are the one true good guy and everybody else is a bad guy, doesn't that mean the world is full of referees who pass down judgments on others...but never on themselves?
Somewhere in this conundrum we are missing a critical, yet simplistic element: common sense. Instead of pausing to consider ramifications down the road, we stampede over all the perceived bad guys, trampling on rules and mowing over common sense. We do this in the name of justice and right -- our right -- which, being the good guy and all, is the most important right there is. It doesn't matter if it affects others negatively. After all, "don't tread on me" didn't exactly have a list of caveats spelled out at the bottom of the flag.
So now lots of countries, especially (but not exclusively) The United States are having to explain countless socio-political blunders that weren't meant for publication, like Russia is stuck up, Canada wears mismatched socks, and the current bad-guy Korea behaves like that crazy Uncle you pray won't show up for Sunday Supper. It's going to take a lot of work to undo these seemingly trivial statements.There are many, many other, far more serious leaks of information as well, and it will take a lot more than a sincere "my bad" and bouquet of flowers.
Using a bit of common sense wouldn't necessarily change our course of action, but it implies, at the very least, that we step back and consider actions and results from all sides, both immediate and long term. Hiding evidence of serious wrongdoing isn't the answer. But tattling on others like toddlers on the playground isn't the answer either. Should we be a global community ready, willing, and able to play dirty in order to suit our needs and exercise our freedom? No.
I can't say whether these leaks should have been made public or not, but I wish the desire to DO right was as strong as the need to BE right. If only everyone employed just a little common sense, maybe we could focus our attention on healing our world-wide community, instead of cleaning up messes everybody else leaves on our global doorstep.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Waiting with Hope
Advent has returned, and once again, we are in the season of waiting. As I mentioned a year ago at about this time (go figure, eh?), waiting isn't exactly most people's strong point. We are a society that isn't particularly conditioned to wait for much of anything, except usually, for whatever the waiting is, to be over.
Each Sunday in Advent has a different variation on the theme of waiting. As if waiting wasn't hard enough on its own merits, the theme of this first week is waiting with hope.
Hope. WAITING with hope. Looking around at the world today, if we wait with anything, it sure isn't hope. In fact, it's the opposite of hope. We wait with fear.
Over the years we have been increasingly pummeled with the specter of fear. There are monsters under the bed, people who want to hurt us, stranger danger, amber alerts, check your Halloween candy, the sky is falling, 2012 is around the corner and Nostradamus is waiting with a big I told you so. When we wait with fear, we wait both defensively and aggressively. We protect, fortify, and build barriers to protect, but we also arm ourselves to strike at whomever for whatever. Fear whispers and we scream. The worst is always just around the corner, and it is coming for US. Fear moves us and motivates us by the never-ending nagging what if.
But what exactly is waiting with hope? Does it mean we hope something good might happen? It seems if we are simply waiting for the possibility that something good might happen, it seems we have already lost. There are too many conditional statements. Too many chances to fail. Too many opportunities for fear to rush back in and say if only you had done it differently...
Waiting with hope is a very tall order, and unlike the song, it's not where you finish, it's where you start. It's being ready, willing, open and accepting from the get-go. It means leaving our self-made barriers and being open for the good we know is to come.
Waiting with fear means waiting for things we've been told might come.
Waiting with hope means waiting for things we know will come,
and then recognizing it when it does.
I hope I get it right.
Each Sunday in Advent has a different variation on the theme of waiting. As if waiting wasn't hard enough on its own merits, the theme of this first week is waiting with hope.
Hope. WAITING with hope. Looking around at the world today, if we wait with anything, it sure isn't hope. In fact, it's the opposite of hope. We wait with fear.
Over the years we have been increasingly pummeled with the specter of fear. There are monsters under the bed, people who want to hurt us, stranger danger, amber alerts, check your Halloween candy, the sky is falling, 2012 is around the corner and Nostradamus is waiting with a big I told you so. When we wait with fear, we wait both defensively and aggressively. We protect, fortify, and build barriers to protect, but we also arm ourselves to strike at whomever for whatever. Fear whispers and we scream. The worst is always just around the corner, and it is coming for US. Fear moves us and motivates us by the never-ending nagging what if.
But what exactly is waiting with hope? Does it mean we hope something good might happen? It seems if we are simply waiting for the possibility that something good might happen, it seems we have already lost. There are too many conditional statements. Too many chances to fail. Too many opportunities for fear to rush back in and say if only you had done it differently...
Waiting with hope is a very tall order, and unlike the song, it's not where you finish, it's where you start. It's being ready, willing, open and accepting from the get-go. It means leaving our self-made barriers and being open for the good we know is to come.
Waiting with fear means waiting for things we've been told might come.
Waiting with hope means waiting for things we know will come,
and then recognizing it when it does.
I hope I get it right.
Waiting with Hope
Advent has returned, and once again, we are in the season of waiting. As I mentioned a year ago at about this time (go figure, eh?), waiting isn't exactly most people's strong point. We are a society that isn't particularly conditioned to wait for much of anything, except usually, for whatever the waiting is, to be over.
Each Sunday in Advent has a different variation on the theme of waiting. As if waiting wasn't hard enough on its own merits, the theme of this first week is waiting with hope.
Hope. WAITING with hope. Looking around at the world today, if we wait with anything, it sure isn't hope. In fact, it's the opposite of hope. We wait with fear.
Over the years we have been increasingly pummeled with the specter of fear. There are monsters under the bed, people who want to hurt us, stranger danger, amber alerts, check your Halloween candy, the sky is falling, 2012 is around the corner and Nostradamus is waiting with a big I told you so. When we wait with fear, we wait both defensively and aggressively. We protect, fortify, and build barriers to protect, but we also arm ourselves to strike at whomever for whatever. Fear whispers and we scream. The worst is always just around the corner, and it is coming for US. Fear moves us and motivates us by the never-ending nagging what if.
But what exactly is waiting with hope? Does it mean we hope something good might happen? It seems if we are simply waiting for the possibility that something good might happen, it seems we have already lost. There are too many conditional statements. Too many chances to fail. Too many opportunities for fear to rush back in and say if only you had done it differently...
Waiting with hope is a very tall order, and unlike the song, it's not where you finish, it's where you start. It's being ready, willing, open and accepting from the get-go. It means leaving our self-made barriers and being open for the good we know is to come.
Waiting with fear means waiting for things we've been told might come.
Waiting with hope means waiting for things we know will come,
and then recognizing it when it does.
I hope I get it right.
Each Sunday in Advent has a different variation on the theme of waiting. As if waiting wasn't hard enough on its own merits, the theme of this first week is waiting with hope.
Hope. WAITING with hope. Looking around at the world today, if we wait with anything, it sure isn't hope. In fact, it's the opposite of hope. We wait with fear.
Over the years we have been increasingly pummeled with the specter of fear. There are monsters under the bed, people who want to hurt us, stranger danger, amber alerts, check your Halloween candy, the sky is falling, 2012 is around the corner and Nostradamus is waiting with a big I told you so. When we wait with fear, we wait both defensively and aggressively. We protect, fortify, and build barriers to protect, but we also arm ourselves to strike at whomever for whatever. Fear whispers and we scream. The worst is always just around the corner, and it is coming for US. Fear moves us and motivates us by the never-ending nagging what if.
But what exactly is waiting with hope? Does it mean we hope something good might happen? It seems if we are simply waiting for the possibility that something good might happen, it seems we have already lost. There are too many conditional statements. Too many chances to fail. Too many opportunities for fear to rush back in and say if only you had done it differently...
Waiting with hope is a very tall order, and unlike the song, it's not where you finish, it's where you start. It's being ready, willing, open and accepting from the get-go. It means leaving our self-made barriers and being open for the good we know is to come.
Waiting with fear means waiting for things we've been told might come.
Waiting with hope means waiting for things we know will come,
and then recognizing it when it does.
I hope I get it right.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Trading Spaces
One of the benefits of having company over is you have to do something about the clutter that manages to make its presence known enough to annoy you, but never enough to make you do something about it. "You" in this case meaning "me", because I'm SURE none of YOU have this problem.
So, with Thanksgiving company on the horizon, it was time to break into action and take back the living room. Which I did with amazing speed and style (if I do say so myself). This room hasn't been this clean and put together since the big paint job a couple of years back.
HOWEVER...
The downside of suddenly having a clean space is that all the aforementioned clutter needs a "place to be". Much like one of those sliding puzzles, everything needs to shift once again so the piles (albeit smaller, as compared to years past) can be sorted and the items returned to their proper places.
Sadly, work on my bedroom begins -- once again -- tomorrow.
So, with Thanksgiving company on the horizon, it was time to break into action and take back the living room. Which I did with amazing speed and style (if I do say so myself). This room hasn't been this clean and put together since the big paint job a couple of years back.
HOWEVER...
The downside of suddenly having a clean space is that all the aforementioned clutter needs a "place to be". Much like one of those sliding puzzles, everything needs to shift once again so the piles (albeit smaller, as compared to years past) can be sorted and the items returned to their proper places.
Sadly, work on my bedroom begins -- once again -- tomorrow.
Trading Spaces
One of the benefits of having company over is you have to do something about the clutter that manages to make its presence known enough to annoy you, but never enough to make you do something about it. "You" in this case meaning "me", because I'm SURE none of YOU have this problem.
So, with Thanksgiving company on the horizon, it was time to break into action and take back the living room. Which I did with amazing speed and style (if I do say so myself). This room hasn't been this clean and put together since the big paint job a couple of years back.
HOWEVER...
The downside of suddenly having a clean space is that all the aforementioned clutter needs a "place to be". Much like one of those sliding puzzles, everything needs to shift once again so the piles (albeit smaller, as compared to years past) can be sorted and the items returned to their proper places.
Sadly, work on my bedroom begins -- once again -- tomorrow.
So, with Thanksgiving company on the horizon, it was time to break into action and take back the living room. Which I did with amazing speed and style (if I do say so myself). This room hasn't been this clean and put together since the big paint job a couple of years back.
HOWEVER...
The downside of suddenly having a clean space is that all the aforementioned clutter needs a "place to be". Much like one of those sliding puzzles, everything needs to shift once again so the piles (albeit smaller, as compared to years past) can be sorted and the items returned to their proper places.
Sadly, work on my bedroom begins -- once again -- tomorrow.
Friday, November 26, 2010
I've Got the Music in Me
I've been working on an "organizational" project on and off for several weeks. Sadly, it has nothing to do with dealing with the treasure trove that is my basement, or launching a dating service for lonely socks. In fact the word organizational earned itself a set of quotation marks because I'm not sure this qualifies, since it isn't a roll up your sleeves, grab a label-maker, trash bag, or storage bin kind of project.
My organizational project is cleaning up all my audio files on iTunes.
There are many ways I could describe this project: Neverending. Boring. Maddening. HOW CAN IT BE THAT I'M ONLY ON "D"??? All of these are entirely true, but I'm doing my best to concentrate on the word "necessary."
With all respect to the Gods of iTunes, I'd like to meet the person who determines what information goes in the various fields of a song (Song Title, Artist, Album Artist, Composer, Duration, Album Title, etc. etc. etc.) and smack them over the head. Repeatedly. Consistency, thy name is NOT iTunes. There are composers preceding song titles, there are album titles listed as the artists. They alphabetize the way it appears in the field, which, in this warped musical universe is by FIRST NAME FIRST and THEN last name. That is, when they give you a first name. Initial articles are fair game in other languages, so titles are filed under "Das" or "Le" or whatever nonsense some entirely non-musical, non-foreign-language-speaking person chose.
This might sound like a big who cares, but believe me, for someone who arranges and orders things for a living, this kills me. Even at home, books must be arranged by genre, by hardcover/softcover and then from tallest to smallest. But there is always THAT ONE BOOK that is longer than it is tall, and leaving the organizer with gut-wrenching decision: Let it stick out? NO. That's blasphemous. Turn it on end so it doesn't stick out? No. Doing that covers up important information like THE AUTHOR AND TITLE. It's a lose-lose proposition no matter what you do.
So now I'm meticulously going through my audio files, deleting duplicates, making sure all the albums have a picture of the cover, making sure last names go last and first names go first (RADICAL!), making sure things are spelled correctly, and that I could find something with a spin of the iPod wheel. Sure, I'm kicking myself for not keeping on top of this in the first place, but it's hard to know how out of hand a collection of anything will become until you wake up one morning and realize it is just that -- out of hand.
At least while I fix it (and go a little insane) I have background music.
My organizational project is cleaning up all my audio files on iTunes.
There are many ways I could describe this project: Neverending. Boring. Maddening. HOW CAN IT BE THAT I'M ONLY ON "D"??? All of these are entirely true, but I'm doing my best to concentrate on the word "necessary."
With all respect to the Gods of iTunes, I'd like to meet the person who determines what information goes in the various fields of a song (Song Title, Artist, Album Artist, Composer, Duration, Album Title, etc. etc. etc.) and smack them over the head. Repeatedly. Consistency, thy name is NOT iTunes. There are composers preceding song titles, there are album titles listed as the artists. They alphabetize the way it appears in the field, which, in this warped musical universe is by FIRST NAME FIRST and THEN last name. That is, when they give you a first name. Initial articles are fair game in other languages, so titles are filed under "Das" or "Le" or whatever nonsense some entirely non-musical, non-foreign-language-speaking person chose.
This might sound like a big who cares, but believe me, for someone who arranges and orders things for a living, this kills me. Even at home, books must be arranged by genre, by hardcover/softcover and then from tallest to smallest. But there is always THAT ONE BOOK that is longer than it is tall, and leaving the organizer with gut-wrenching decision: Let it stick out? NO. That's blasphemous. Turn it on end so it doesn't stick out? No. Doing that covers up important information like THE AUTHOR AND TITLE. It's a lose-lose proposition no matter what you do.
So now I'm meticulously going through my audio files, deleting duplicates, making sure all the albums have a picture of the cover, making sure last names go last and first names go first (RADICAL!), making sure things are spelled correctly, and that I could find something with a spin of the iPod wheel. Sure, I'm kicking myself for not keeping on top of this in the first place, but it's hard to know how out of hand a collection of anything will become until you wake up one morning and realize it is just that -- out of hand.
At least while I fix it (and go a little insane) I have background music.
I've Got the Music in Me
I've been working on an "organizational" project on and off for several weeks. Sadly, it has nothing to do with dealing with the treasure trove that is my basement, or launching a dating service for lonely socks. In fact the word organizational earned itself a set of quotation marks because I'm not sure this qualifies, since it isn't a roll up your sleeves, grab a label-maker, trash bag, or storage bin kind of project.
My organizational project is cleaning up all my audio files on iTunes.
There are many ways I could describe this project: Neverending. Boring. Maddening. HOW CAN IT BE THAT I'M ONLY ON "D"??? All of these are entirely true, but I'm doing my best to concentrate on the word "necessary."
With all respect to the Gods of iTunes, I'd like to meet the person who determines what information goes in the various fields of a song (Song Title, Artist, Album Artist, Composer, Duration, Album Title, etc. etc. etc.) and smack them over the head. Repeatedly. Consistency, thy name is NOT iTunes. There are composers preceding song titles, there are album titles listed as the artists. They alphabetize the way it appears in the field, which, in this warped musical universe is by FIRST NAME FIRST and THEN last name. That is, when they give you a first name. Initial articles are fair game in other languages, so titles are filed under "Das" or "Le" or whatever nonsense some entirely non-musical, non-foreign-language-speaking person chose.
This might sound like a big who cares, but believe me, for someone who arranges and orders things for a living, this kills me. Even at home, books must be arranged by genre, by hardcover/softcover and then from tallest to smallest. But there is always THAT ONE BOOK that is longer than it is tall, and leaving the organizer with gut-wrenching decision: Let it stick out? NO. That's blasphemous. Turn it on end so it doesn't stick out? No. Doing that covers up important information like THE AUTHOR AND TITLE. It's a lose-lose proposition no matter what you do.
So now I'm meticulously going through my audio files, deleting duplicates, making sure all the albums have a picture of the cover, making sure last names go last and first names go first (RADICAL!), making sure things are spelled correctly, and that I could find something with a spin of the iPod wheel. Sure, I'm kicking myself for not keeping on top of this in the first place, but it's hard to know how out of hand a collection of anything will become until you wake up one morning and realize it is just that -- out of hand.
At least while I fix it (and go a little insane) I have background music.
My organizational project is cleaning up all my audio files on iTunes.
There are many ways I could describe this project: Neverending. Boring. Maddening. HOW CAN IT BE THAT I'M ONLY ON "D"??? All of these are entirely true, but I'm doing my best to concentrate on the word "necessary."
With all respect to the Gods of iTunes, I'd like to meet the person who determines what information goes in the various fields of a song (Song Title, Artist, Album Artist, Composer, Duration, Album Title, etc. etc. etc.) and smack them over the head. Repeatedly. Consistency, thy name is NOT iTunes. There are composers preceding song titles, there are album titles listed as the artists. They alphabetize the way it appears in the field, which, in this warped musical universe is by FIRST NAME FIRST and THEN last name. That is, when they give you a first name. Initial articles are fair game in other languages, so titles are filed under "Das" or "Le" or whatever nonsense some entirely non-musical, non-foreign-language-speaking person chose.
This might sound like a big who cares, but believe me, for someone who arranges and orders things for a living, this kills me. Even at home, books must be arranged by genre, by hardcover/softcover and then from tallest to smallest. But there is always THAT ONE BOOK that is longer than it is tall, and leaving the organizer with gut-wrenching decision: Let it stick out? NO. That's blasphemous. Turn it on end so it doesn't stick out? No. Doing that covers up important information like THE AUTHOR AND TITLE. It's a lose-lose proposition no matter what you do.
So now I'm meticulously going through my audio files, deleting duplicates, making sure all the albums have a picture of the cover, making sure last names go last and first names go first (RADICAL!), making sure things are spelled correctly, and that I could find something with a spin of the iPod wheel. Sure, I'm kicking myself for not keeping on top of this in the first place, but it's hard to know how out of hand a collection of anything will become until you wake up one morning and realize it is just that -- out of hand.
At least while I fix it (and go a little insane) I have background music.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
ThanksSharing
I think of the holiday of Thanksgiving as one of those "listing" kind of days. Not listing as in maintaining a permanent tilt to one side or another (although, if you eat enough turkey and stuffing, there is a degree of danger that comes from over-achieving). No, Thanksgiving is a listing holiday like New Years Day is a listing holiday. Time to pull out pencil and paper, or stand and give a formal declaration about all those things you are thankful for.
Ending your sentence with a preposition may or may not be one of those things.
Since I'm 50% list-phobic and 50% list-deficient, a listing holiday doesn't bode well for me. I'm afraid I'm going to forget something. I'm afraid it won't be profound enough. I'm afraid it will be too serious. I'm afraid of what others might think. I'm afraid that nobody will care. I'm afraid I'm not thankful enough. I'm afraid I'm too thankful. This list -- unlike others -- goes on and on.
In reality I'm nowhere nearly as neurotic it sounds. And yet, any one of those phrases are plenty enough excuse for me on any given day. And the truth is, I usually approach the whole thing by thinking, "yeah, I should figure out what I'm thankful for" ... and end up doing nothing.
Of course I'm thankful for family, friends, a place to live, food to eat, a job (OK, two jobs), transportation and warm clothes. But all those seem so obvious. It's like saying that I'm thankful for breathing. Which I am. It's rather important. But if I need to enumerate my thanks beginning at the cellular level, we'll be here a long, long time.
Instead, I'd rather tell you that I'm thankful for the health and healing, and the care and comfort I've seen over the past year. From a new-born infant to life-long friends, to parents and grandparents, I have seen the miracle of medicine and the power of prayer do absolutely astounding things. I've seen friends and families pull together, circle the wagons and watch miracles happen. They are the heart and soul of this fight, and the medical community is the 13th player on team, providing the well-needed muscle. But there have been times when the fighting is over and friends and family are powerless and broken. It's then I'm thankful for the medical community and health care providers as they step in and serve as both shoulder and crutch, providing medical and personal comfort as life transitions peacefully and gently.
I'm thankful for infectious smile, the giggle, the somewhat inappropriate titter and the raucous belly laugh. In a world where so many would like to tell you there is NOTHING funny and NOTHING good anywhere anymore, humor -- be it silly, punny, racy, obtuse or as subtle as a falling anvil -- helps us realign and reboot our sense of perspective, even in the midst of very loud naysayers. Nayshouters.
I'm thankful for the wisdom that is found in the likes of kindergartners and fortune cookies. They both get to the heart of the matter without messing around. Sometimes the syntax is a little sketchy and the words get lost in translation, but the heart, the meaning, and the honesty is always there for the taking.
I'm thankful for second chances and new opportunities. The weather changes every day. If I don't like today, maybe I'll like tomorrow. If not then, maybe the next day. Every book in my house brings new people to meet, stories to tell, and adventures to embark upon. Putting my iPod on "shuffle" all day brings me 10,000 surprises. Sitting down with new music books gives me the chance to discover new music, new poetry and new sources of inspiration. The students I teach walk through my studio door each week and seem to be filled with endless possibilities. They inspire me and surprise me every day.
If I was really pressed, I would have to say the thing that I'm most thankful for is all those people and lives and experiences that are intertwined with my own. To be able to share joys and sorrows, successes and hardships, laughter and tears, is to be reminded that I'm not alone out here, slogging it out in the trenches of life. We're all in it together. And for that, I'm truly, truly thankful.
ThanksSharing
I think of the holiday of Thanksgiving as one of those "listing" kind of days. Not listing as in maintaining a permanent tilt to one side or another (although, if you eat enough turkey and stuffing, there is a degree of danger that comes from over-achieving). No, Thanksgiving is a listing holiday like New Years Day is a listing holiday. Time to pull out pencil and paper, or stand and give a formal declaration about all those things you are thankful for.
Ending your sentence with a preposition may or may not be one of those things.
Since I'm 50% list-phobic and 50% list-deficient, a listing holiday doesn't bode well for me. I'm afraid I'm going to forget something. I'm afraid it won't be profound enough. I'm afraid it will be too serious. I'm afraid of what others might think. I'm afraid that nobody will care. I'm afraid I'm not thankful enough. I'm afraid I'm too thankful. This list -- unlike others -- goes on and on.
In reality I'm nowhere nearly as neurotic it sounds. And yet, any one of those phrases are plenty enough excuse for me on any given day. And the truth is, I usually approach the whole thing by thinking, "yeah, I should figure out what I'm thankful for" ... and end up doing nothing.
Of course I'm thankful for family, friends, a place to live, food to eat, a job (OK, two jobs), transportation and warm clothes. But all those seem so obvious. It's like saying that I'm thankful for breathing. Which I am. It's rather important. But if I need to enumerate my thanks beginning at the cellular level, we'll be here a long, long time.
Instead, I'd rather tell you that I'm thankful for the health and healing, and the care and comfort I've seen over the past year. From a new-born infant to life-long friends, to parents and grandparents, I have seen the miracle of medicine and the power of prayer do absolutely astounding things. I've seen friends and families pull together, circle the wagons and watch miracles happen. They are the heart and soul of this fight, and the medical community is the 13th player on team, providing the well-needed muscle. But there have been times when the fighting is over and friends and family are powerless and broken. It's then I'm thankful for the medical community and health care providers as they step in and serve as both shoulder and crutch, providing medical and personal comfort as life transitions peacefully and gently.
I'm thankful for infectious smile, the giggle, the somewhat inappropriate titter and the raucous belly laugh. In a world where so many would like to tell you there is NOTHING funny and NOTHING good anywhere anymore, humor -- be it silly, punny, racy, obtuse or as subtle as a falling anvil -- helps us realign and reboot our sense of perspective, even in the midst of very loud naysayers. Nayshouters.
I'm thankful for the wisdom that is found in the likes of kindergartners and fortune cookies. They both get to the heart of the matter without messing around. Sometimes the syntax is a little sketchy and the words get lost in translation, but the heart, the meaning, and the honesty is always there for the taking.
I'm thankful for second chances and new opportunities. The weather changes every day. If I don't like today, maybe I'll like tomorrow. If not then, maybe the next day. Every book in my house brings new people to meet, stories to tell, and adventures to embark upon. Putting my iPod on "shuffle" all day brings me 10,000 surprises. Sitting down with new music books gives me the chance to discover new music, new poetry and new sources of inspiration. The students I teach walk through my studio door each week and seem to be filled with endless possibilities. They inspire me and surprise me every day.
If I was really pressed, I would have to say the thing that I'm most thankful for is all those people and lives and experiences that are intertwined with my own. To be able to share joys and sorrows, successes and hardships, laughter and tears, is to be reminded that I'm not alone out here, slogging it out in the trenches of life. We're all in it together. And for that, I'm truly, truly thankful.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
We Gather Together?
On the day before Thanksgiving, many people travel to whatever place they call home. The feeling is warm and comfortable, and the houses are filled with the scent of spices, apples and pumpkin pie. It's nostalgic, Norman Rockwell-eve. Tomorrow will be turkey and stuffing, cranberries, sweet potatoes and all the fixings, whatever they may be. It will be too much food, too much family, and a little bit of football, parades and napping to fill in the cracks.
My today went something like this: Work at 7am. Try not to slip into a deep and fatal coma. At 11:30 we dash home and pick up TeenTuna, who is going to join us for lunch. But first, we have to go on an expedition. We are seeking the child. Alas, there isn't a star to be found at 11:45am in Michigan, so celestial navigation is out of the question. Finally, with angels singing (and car horns honking) we approach with a certain reverence the one whom we seek:
My today went something like this: Work at 7am. Try not to slip into a deep and fatal coma. At 11:30 we dash home and pick up TeenTuna, who is going to join us for lunch. But first, we have to go on an expedition. We are seeking the child. Alas, there isn't a star to be found at 11:45am in Michigan, so celestial navigation is out of the question. Finally, with angels singing (and car horns honking) we approach with a certain reverence the one whom we seek:
TeenTuna on a Billboard
Underneath a hamburger
So we make her stand in the middle of the weeds and point at the sign while we stand in the middle of the road... the busy road... at noon... and take pictures. Because we can. And how many times is your kid going to be on a billboard? Granted, with this one? It's hard to say. But as long as her picture isn't on a milk carton or the FBI's Most-Wanted List, we're okay.
After billboard hunting, we continued to hamburger devouring (not at Bob Evans, sorry Bob) and I returned to work to resume holding down the floor (steady), testing the quality of the air (poor), and practicing silent meditation (sleepy). Then we had to dash away dash away dash away all to her voice lesson, where I dumped her and ran to an ATM so I wouldn't have to pay her teacher with a fistful of George Washingtons. Post lesson we raced home and ran out the door yet again ten minutes later. Off to church for the usual day before Thanksgiving dinner and service. I sat next to a handsome young man who is in his freshman year at college. Instead of making him recite his favorite things about college and Chicago, I looked at him and said, "OK..... class that makes you want to poke your eyes out with a sharp stick?" Because really, whatever the answer is, it's going to be ten times better than "what do you like the best about (fill in the blank)?"
We didn't stay for church, but ran two quick errands and finally made it home. It wasn't warm (the heat was off), it wasn't spicy (although later TeenTuna warmed up leftover spaghetti), and there isn't a pumpkin pie to be found. Instead, we made a batch of spicy warm queso dip, and flipped channels between a Stephen Sondheim birthday celebration on PBS, and South Park's musical version of "The MiracleWorker".
Because really now....who can choose?
Tomorrow will be another non-traditional day. The turkey is getting a 48 hour reprieve, and we're celebrating with lamb. There might be a little parade watching (especially if it's a high-wind day... that's when it gets FUN), a little warm cider quaffing, a little laundry doing, and a lot of homework completing. About the only thing traditional in our house in this non-traditional day is that there will be NO MINCE PIE.
And for that, I will be truly thankful.
We Gather Together?
On the day before Thanksgiving, many people travel to whatever place they call home. The feeling is warm and comfortable, and the houses are filled with the scent of spices, apples and pumpkin pie. It's nostalgic, Norman Rockwell-eve. Tomorrow will be turkey and stuffing, cranberries, sweet potatoes and all the fixings, whatever they may be. It will be too much food, too much family, and a little bit of football, parades and napping to fill in the cracks.
My today went something like this: Work at 7am. Try not to slip into a deep and fatal coma. At 11:30 we dash home and pick up TeenTuna, who is going to join us for lunch. But first, we have to go on an expedition. We are seeking the child. Alas, there isn't a star to be found at 11:45am in Michigan, so celestial navigation is out of the question. Finally, with angels singing (and car horns honking) we approach with a certain reverence the one whom we seek:
My today went something like this: Work at 7am. Try not to slip into a deep and fatal coma. At 11:30 we dash home and pick up TeenTuna, who is going to join us for lunch. But first, we have to go on an expedition. We are seeking the child. Alas, there isn't a star to be found at 11:45am in Michigan, so celestial navigation is out of the question. Finally, with angels singing (and car horns honking) we approach with a certain reverence the one whom we seek:
TeenTuna on a Billboard
Underneath a hamburger
So we make her stand in the middle of the weeds and point at the sign while we stand in the middle of the road... the busy road... at noon... and take pictures. Because we can. And how many times is your kid going to be on a billboard? Granted, with this one? It's hard to say. But as long as her picture isn't on a milk carton or the FBI's Most-Wanted List, we're okay.
After billboard hunting, we continued to hamburger devouring (not at Bob Evans, sorry Bob) and I returned to work to resume holding down the floor (steady), testing the quality of the air (poor), and practicing silent meditation (sleepy). Then we had to dash away dash away dash away all to her voice lesson, where I dumped her and ran to an ATM so I wouldn't have to pay her teacher with a fistful of George Washingtons. Post lesson we raced home and ran out the door yet again ten minutes later. Off to church for the usual day before Thanksgiving dinner and service. I sat next to a handsome young man who is in his freshman year at college. Instead of making him recite his favorite things about college and Chicago, I looked at him and said, "OK..... class that makes you want to poke your eyes out with a sharp stick?" Because really, whatever the answer is, it's going to be ten times better than "what do you like the best about (fill in the blank)?"
We didn't stay for church, but ran two quick errands and finally made it home. It wasn't warm (the heat was off), it wasn't spicy (although later TeenTuna warmed up leftover spaghetti), and there isn't a pumpkin pie to be found. Instead, we made a batch of spicy warm queso dip, and flipped channels between a Stephen Sondheim birthday celebration on PBS, and South Park's musical version of "The MiracleWorker".
Because really now....who can choose?
Tomorrow will be another non-traditional day. The turkey is getting a 48 hour reprieve, and we're celebrating with lamb. There might be a little parade watching (especially if it's a high-wind day... that's when it gets FUN), a little warm cider quaffing, a little laundry doing, and a lot of homework completing. About the only thing traditional in our house in this non-traditional day is that there will be NO MINCE PIE.
And for that, I will be truly thankful.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Haikuzzzzzzz
Is it possible
To Haiku when you're asleep?
Evidently, yes.
The students performed
Many jazz standards tonight.
Frank and Ella smiled.
Yesterday? Sunny.
Today? Cold. Windy. Rainy.
This state's not for wimps.
Living room sofa
method actor portraying
a warm, comfy bed.
Tomorrow? Restful?
Pigs, Popes, and Bears in the woods.
Sense this does not make.
Cat snores. Tuna types.
Clock ticks. But before bedtime
Must harvest the rice.
For heavy eyelids
Remember to pack toothpicks.
Or dark sunglasses.
If I sleep right now
Six whole hours is my reward.
Sounds like a plan, Stan.
To Haiku when you're asleep?
Evidently, yes.
The students performed
Many jazz standards tonight.
Frank and Ella smiled.
Yesterday? Sunny.
Today? Cold. Windy. Rainy.
This state's not for wimps.
Living room sofa
method actor portraying
a warm, comfy bed.
Tomorrow? Restful?
Pigs, Popes, and Bears in the woods.
Sense this does not make.
Cat snores. Tuna types.
Clock ticks. But before bedtime
Must harvest the rice.
For heavy eyelids
Remember to pack toothpicks.
Or dark sunglasses.
If I sleep right now
Six whole hours is my reward.
Sounds like a plan, Stan.
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