real love

2009-01-03T13:04:00.002-06:00

I realize this may be a little silly, but blogger, for some crazy reason, would not allow me to include this blog in my Gmail account. And as my Northwestern account will not exist for much longer, I exported the blog to a different address:

http://pavement-tune.blogspot.com

I'm probably being ridiculous and there's probably a much easier way to solve this dilemma, but we persevere. In any case, I won't be updating at this URL any more. Peace out.

2009-01-03T00:22:00.005-06:00

Some things that happened in 2008:

Rang in the new year at Sara's with Brian rolling down her backyard hill.

Gave a violin recital.

Went to ACTF and rocked the piano for Matthew and Tracey.

Student taught, and had a blast.

Auditioned for grad schools.

For the first real time in my life, tasted cold, nasty rejection.

Took Counterpoint with J-C.

Graduated college, almost suma cum laude.

Said goodbye to who will remain the coolest people I have ever known.

Worked for the first (and with any luck the last) time as a waitress, and met some crazy, fantastic folk.

Toured for two weeks with the Guard band.

Spent endless awesomely bored summer nights at Justine's, and Memorial Park. We had plans, man.

Moved to Minneapolis with Matt, Lindsay and Nate.

Paid bills for the first real time.

Started working for The Man at Gap. Then started a private studio of sorts. Then started substitute teaching.

Auditioned into a FABULOUS orchestra.

Saw Ben Folds in concert and screamed my ass off.

Saw Joan Baez in concert and my life was changed.

Saw Prairie Home Companion live and was... perplexed.

Said goodbye to Justine, the love of my life, for eighteen months.

Was promoted to Sergeant in the Army. Weird.

Found what will hopefully become my spiritual community, as it were. Solomon's Porch in Minneapolis.

I've done the whole "look through the journal and write down stand-out-ish portions" thing... so read if you like, more for my benefit than anything. Although, be warned that the times when I write in my journal are usually the times when I'm feeling totally lame and quasi-poetic. So take with a grain of salt, or some other better-suited idiom.

My recital is coming. Like the plague. The plague followed by cake and punch.

Update: middle schoolers have ADD.

When driving back to OC after drill, break, etc., I find the sight of the obnoxious orange water tower extremely comforting.

Saw Terror Texts today. Sarah Palsma is a goddess.

WHY do the gods of grad school think I have nothing to offer? Is Iowa SUCH a foreign country?

I ran out of peanut butter so today I had to pack a jelly sandwich.

It is strange and theraputic how messy my apartment is right now.

Although much of myself is throwing a complete tantrum, screaming through a sizeable amount of swear words that everything I've worked for in my entire life as a musician turned out to be a total bust, my long-suppressed inner legitimate adult is rolling her eyes and scolding me to get an f-ing hold on myself and grow the hell up. This is not the end of my life.

I think my greatest talent is transforming completely insignificant events into Shakespearean tragedies in my head.

I have yet to find an ail that cannot be cured, or at least ameliorated, by Adam Sandler night at Rae's.

For those of you who have not heard: John Hodgman is a GENIUS.

I have figured out that whether or not I'm a total cynic or a total idealist is largely dependent on how much coffee I've had.

Why am I so afraid of silence?

I like the thought of possibility, the idea that a person can live without detachment, with pain and righteous anger and with full, untainted joy at the simpleness of beauty and the capacity to be loved.

Why am I such a tool when I'm in Huron?

I think that life, like art, is pointless when it's not collaborative.

I had a dream last night that Barack Obama had a HUGE afro.

It is strange that God and Satan, these transitory, ambiguous concepts, are supposedly messing with my brain from outside, my inner monologue determined from without, not within. Isn't it more likely that God and Satan are just tangible conceptualizations of things that are inborn? Is the choice to follow God really no more complicated than choosing to do good things rather than bad? To choose to listen to the better parts of myself?

"The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits."
- Chesterton

I wonder if the person I am actually exists, or if I'm just a reflection of random parts of other people.

My ideals aren't my own. They're pieces of other people's long-developed passion that I've pirated to make myself feel more worthwhile. The question is, can they be made personal to me? Or in time, will they wither and die, leaving me an older and fatter version of who I was before I went to college?

I hate dormancy.

I want to go back to England, where the earth feels alive of love.

I cannot be an island. I cannot make my own life. I need to be part of a bigger picture.

The world is at peace when I'm here, Memorial Park.

I want to find where self worth comes from.

I wonder if there is hope for redemption. For myself, and the world. I wonder what it takes for people to change for the better.

"We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane."
- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

God, let me not wear my ideas like badges. Let cities live, and art save and destroy me for the better. Let peace be a verb.

Three cures for any ail:
1) stargazing
2) That Thing You Do
3) Joan Baez, "Diamonds and Rust". Belted out. From an empty stage at the fairgrounds.

Long-distance friendships are possible, and necessary.

Home is more a state of mind than a place. I do not need external affirmation of belonging, if I belong to myself. Wherever myself finds purpose, there I am home. In Steph's basement, in Kathleen's apartment, in my car parked full of my belongings, at Memorial Park, in London, Orange City, Huron, Burnsville, Chihuahua - there I am home, if I bring myself.

I think that Justine is a huge part of my feeling of legitimacy.

It is possible for things to not be a big deal, if I decide that they're not a big deal. For instance: muddy shoes on MY dining room table? Will this matter in ten years? I'll have to think on that.

Money is a powerful, legitimate force.

The reasons why four-year-olds should not take piano lessons are infinite in nature.

Excessive swearing isn't as offensive as it is tiresome. And downright embarrassing.

Consult with roommates before going grocery shopping, or you just might end up with eighty servings of oatmeal in the pantry.

It sucks to be on the receiving end of evangelism.

To God or spirit, or something more worthwhile than myself: I pray for discernment. I pray for peace, in every sense of the word. I pray for life. I pray for art. Save it all from itself.

I am the most destructive force in my life. Actually: the single most deadly enemy in life is lethargy. Lack of energy. Sleepiness. I am so sleepy. God, are your eyelids heavy?

I. Hate. Drunk. People.

I cannot register that Justine is gone.

Today I cooked for the first time. It was awesome and expensive.

I think that if Sara weren't here I would fall down dead.

I need to understand my own insignificance.

Joan freaking Baez is completely PROPHETIC.

God, I need you, or something like you. I need you to tear off my cynicism and let me see your beauty as you meant it to be seen.

I do search, but not well.

There is love, in me and around me, always, even when I can't or choose not to see it. It is there, and will be there, absolutely no matter what.

Today, the amount of love I feel is huge. I am storing it here for when I need it later.

There is so much doubt, insecurity, sadness, depression, egocentrism, cynicism, closemindedness in this world, in every person, around ever corner. But there is hope also, and humor, and betterment, and compassion. Which I choose today is under my control.

Hope is a gift. Even more, FAITH is a gift.

There is nothing not futile about physical intimacy. The moment lived, prolonged, loved, impassioned - but always, always over.

This is not life. It is an hours-long wait for a two-minute ride.

So there's THAT.

Also!!!!

Favorite music from this year...

As always, Beatles, Dylan, McLean, etc. to infinity they are my SOUL. But some new artists/albums I've discovered:
Iron & Wine, "Our Endless Numbered Days"
The Frames, "Set List"
Elliott Smith, "XO" and "Figure 8"
The Fireman, "Electric Arguments"
The Avett Brothers, "Live, Vol. 2" and "Emotionalism"
Jenny Lewis, "Rabbit Fur Coat"
Original Soundtrack, "I'm Not There"
Andrew Bird, "Armchair Apocrypha"
Sufjan Stevens, "Come On! Feel the Illinoise!"
The Killers, "Hot Fuss"
David Bowie, "Changesbowie" (guilty pleasure)
Snow Patrol, "Final Straw"
Joan Baez, "Day After Tomorrow" and "Ring Them Bells"
Don McLean, "Tapestry"
Cloud Cult, "Feel Good Ghosts"
Mojo, "Revolver Reloaded"
Wilco, "Being There"

Some books I've read, sadly can't remember all of them...

Flannery O'Connor's short stories
Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Breakfast of Champions, Slaughterhouse Five, Deadeye Dick
G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy
Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's
Jack Kerouac, On the Road
Thich Nhat Hahn, Living Buddha, Living Christ
Steven Hall, The Raw Shark Texts

Olena Kalytiak Davis, shattered sonnets love cards and other off and back handed importunities
Dave Eggers, What Is the What
John Hodgman, The Areas of My Expertise

That's all she wrote, I think. Yawny yawn, it's bedtime!

2008-12-23T08:24:00.002-06:00

It has been a pretty awful week. But, a thing I need to remember:

I have awesome friends. Seriously. Phone relationships are infinitely better than no relationships. The only thing I lack is snuggling which is difficult over the phone but not impossible.

I have lately been listening to The Arcade Fire. They do not suck.

Yesterday four out of seven scheduled students forgot they had a lesson. But my previously tone deaf voice student stayed on pitch for over half the lesson which I count as a huge victory. I'm still in a good mood from that.

Oh, and in TWO WEEKS I start violin lessons!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS ABOUT FREAKING TIME. GAHH!!! Excitement!

2008-12-11T16:18:00.003-06:00

Subbing has been fun, actually. There have been moments when the thought crosses my mind that I could actually do this for a living - teach music, I mean. In a school. I like the kids. I like having something important to give them. Then I remember why I can't do it. It BREAKS MY HEART to give fifteen minute lessons. I have a constant feeling of being interrupted, like I never get to finish a thought, like I can never quite say what I want to say because by the time we get in a proper warm-up there are three minutes left before the student has to go back to class. It kills me. Especially when the student WANTS to learn, WANTS more time, but can't get it. GAHHHHHHH. But then, teaching privately isn't quite right either. It breaks my heart just as much to HAVE the proper amount of time and resources for a lesson, but half the time it's like pulling teeth to get the kid to practice. Or they sit there with an attitude and don't want to take my advice. They don't know how lucky they are (just like I didn't know how lucky I was) to have parents supportive enough, and wealthy enough, to finance their music education, and they take it for granted.

I guess I just have to believe that whatever musical seeds I'm planting will grow into something good in the end, even if I won't see it happen.

Something else I've learned: I am NOT cut out to teach beginners. It is so unnatural for me. And no way do I have the patience. Some days I think that if I see one more kid pick his nose and then play the piano with the same fingers I will surely vomit on the buggary keys.

in memoriam

2008-12-08T00:01:00.000-06:00

28 years ago today, John Lennon was shot.

His is a story of personal failure, a search for inner peace, a fight for social justice, an artistic passion big enough to inspire millions.

He was, underneath it all, just one more human who discovered his ability to hurt those he loved. He made a choice to transform a downward spiral of drugs, anger, insecurity, and ignorance into a revolutionary campaign for peace - peace within himself, peace among those he loved, and peace among the nations of the world.

This is a story of fame and fortune, yes, and of beautiful art, yes, but mostly it is a story of the ability of one impossibly weak and violent human to choose peace over conflict.

And that, if anything, gives me hope.

John, I miss you.

2008-12-07T21:37:00.003-06:00

I'm still blown away by Living Buddha, Living Christ. I have read it twice. Please read these. These are principles of Buddhism, but it read like a fresh insight into the teachings of Jesus. I have been mulling them over all week. I espcially love the last part of the "cultivating compassion" paragraph.

The Jewels of Our Own Tradition

1. Cultivating Compassion
Aware of the suffering caused by the destruction of life, I vow to cultivate compassion and learn ways to protect the lives of people, animals, plants, and minerals. I am determined not to kill, not to let others kill, and not to condone any act of killing in the world, in my thinking and in my way of life.

2. Cultivating Loving-Kindness
Aware of the suffering caused by exploitation, social injustice, stealing, and oppression, I vow to cultivate loving-kindness and learn ways to work for the well-being of people, animals, plants and minerals. I vow to practice generosity by sharing my time, energy, and material resources with those who are in real need. I am determined not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to others. I will respect the property of others, but I will prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other species on Earth.

3. The Oneness of Body and Mind
Aware of the suffering caused by sexual misconduct, I vow to cultivate responsibility and learn ways to protect the safety and integrity of individuals, couples, families, and society. I am determined to not to engage in sexual relations without love and long-term commitment. To preserve the happiness of myself and others, I am determined to respect my commitments and the commitments of others. I will do everyting in my power to protect children from sexual abuse and to prevent couples from being broken by sexual misconduct.

4. Unmindful Speech Can Kill
Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I vow to cultivate loving speech and deep listening in order to bring joy and happiness to others and relieve others of their suffering. Knowing that words can create happiness or suffering, I vow to learn to speak truthfully, with words that inspire self-confidence, joy, and hope. I am determined not to spread news that I do not know to be certain and not to criticize or condemn things of which I am not sure. I will refrain from uttering words that can cause division or discord, or that can cause the family or the community to break. I will make all efforts to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

5. Mindful Consuming
Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful consumption, I vow to cultivate good health, both physical and mental, for myself, my family, and my society by practicing mindful eating, drinking, and consuming. I vow to ingest only items that preserve peace, well-being, and joy in my body, in my consciousness, and in the collective body and consciousness of my family and society. I am determined not to use alcohol or any other intoxicant or to ingest foods or other items that contain toxins, such as TV prorams, magazines, books, films, and conversations. I am aware that to damage my body is to betray my ancestors, my parents, my society, and future generations. I will work to transform violence, fear, anger, and confusion in myself and in society by practicing a diet for myself and for society. I understand that a proper diet is crucial for self-transformation and for the transformation of society.

2008-11-23T23:20:00.002-06:00

I have to wonder about human nature. I don't think it's just because I am chronically passive-aggressive that I get so upset when people act like belligerent assholes for no apparent reason. At some point you have to think, isn't life more enjoyable when you choose to contribute positively to a community?

I've been reading a book called "Living Buddha, Living Christ", by Thich Nhat Hahn. It's claiming that Buddhism and Christianity aren't that removed from each other, that they're based on the same principles of peace, love and service, just walking a slighty different path to reach the same goal. Buddhism resonates me way more than I thought it would. It's such an introspective religion, based on the idea that it is impossible to achieve peace among people, much less among nations, if we can't first make peace within ourselves. So self-knowledge becomes central to spiritual development. Christianity I guess is much more based on God-knowledge, like my journey as a Christian is based on how well I know God, rather than myself.

The book refers a lot to the gnostic gospels, and how ideas presented by Jesus in these texts are similar to Buddhist teachings. Listen: (from the gospel of Thomas)

Jesus said, "If those who lead you say to you, 'Look, the Kingdom is in the sky,' then the birds of the sky will get there first. If they say, 'It is in the sea,' then the fish will get there first. Rather, the Kingdom is inside of you, and it is outside of you. When you come to know yourselves, then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you who are the children of the living Father. But if you will not know yourselves, then you dwell in poverty, and it is you who are that poverty."

'It is you who are that poverty.' That is fantastically true.

Another thing that Buddhism stresses is the importance of living in the moment, experiencing every thing in every day to its fullest, not being obsessed with the past or future.

I love it. Here's another favorite passage:

"Until there is peace between religions, there can be no peace in the world. People kill and are killed because they cling too tightly to their own beliefs and ideologies. When we believe that ours is the only faith that contains the truth, violence and suffering will surely be the result. ...Do not think the knowledge you presently possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow-minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice nonattachment from views in order to be open to receive others' viewpoints. This is the most essential practice of peace."

Right from my heart, man. I love this book. You should read it.

2008-11-19T20:17:00.001-06:00

This blog entry is completely dedicated to the fact that I am currently engaged in facebook chat with Tim McGarvey. That is all.

2008-11-16T20:14:00.002-06:00

Joan freaking Baez. Maybe the best concert I have ever been to. For reals. She is completely prophetic. I love her with the fire of a thousand suns. I had that feeling you get sometimes when you feel like your body cannot possibly contain yourself, like if you don't scream or cry or run a marathon you will most likely not live through the moment. Frick, she is fantastic. Read these lyrics.

I believe in prophecy.
Some folks see things not everybody can see
And, once in a while
they pass the secret along to you and me

And I believe in miracles
Something sacred burning in every bush and tree
We can all learn to sing the songs the angels sing

Yeah, I believe in God
And God ain't me

I've traveled around the world
Stood on mighty mountains and gazed across the wilderness
Never seen a line in the sand or a diamond in the dust

And as our fate unfurls,
Every day that passes I'm sure about a little bit less
Even my money keeps telling me it's God I need to trust

And I believe in God
And God ain't us

God, in my little understanding, don't care what name I call
Whether or not I believe doesn't matter at all

I receive the blessings
That every day on Earth's another chance to get it right
Let this little light of mine shine and rage against the night

Just another lesson
Maybe someone's watching and wondering what I got
Maybe this is why I'm here on Earth

and maybe not

But I believe in God
And God is God

sorry about this

2008-11-07T13:50:00.006-06:00

While speeding down the freeway, listening to Scott and Seth, the album that reminds me of Christmas and that I can be a total asshole sometimes, on my way to spread screeching, tuneless hope to the violinists of tomorrow, it occurs to me that the more I read Kerouac the more my mind functions in run-on sentences. On the road - interstate 35E northbound, that is - scribbling down mileage for tax deductions, concerned that I won't make it home in time to watch the office in pink plaid pajama pants (fake chai tea in hand), does not to me seem less epic than hitchhiking west in the pouring rain, a wad of thirteen soaked-through dollar bills clinging to the inside of my back pocket, unfinished novel and a change of clothes in my suitcase. After all, Michael and Holly broke up (speaking of unfinished novels).

So what is my contribution? A four-stringed machine lying recluse in my closet is precisely as useful its master, fat, American, employed, wrapped in dry blankets, turning two blind eyes to the snow and starvation.

2008-10-26T16:16:00.002-05:00

IT SNOWED TODAY.

Which begs the question, WHY??? why God, did I move the $@#$ing TUNDRA? Really, Aubrey? REALLY???? It is OCTOBER. It is FALL. If the snow does A SINGLE THING to harm the beautiful-autumn-in-Minnesota leaves, it is OVER. And by 'it', I mean LIFE. IT IS NOT WORTH IT.

2008-10-26T14:47:00.000-05:00

It's been three years to the day. Paul, how are you still so awesome? And WHEN are you going back on tour?

2008-10-19T20:07:00.003-05:00

Well, I cooked today. Meaning, I didn't use the microwave. And, it turned out awesomely!! Am I cool, or am I cool? I am cool.

Oh, and guess who has sixth-row tickets to see Joan Baez next month??????? EXCITEMENT

rockin' the suburbs

2008-10-18T14:12:00.011-05:00

Faithful readers:

I am requiring you to watch this. I wish it was a better recording, but whatever. You don't need to sit through the beginning (the recording is kind of annoying), so just watch from about four minutes in until the end.

It might take less time to load if you go to the youtube link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pqq5sEuNjhs&feature=related

a piano's all i got
and i know it ain't a lot
BUT MUSIC HAS THE POWER TO CHANGE THE FUTURE
so what do you think of the message of hope?

Ben Folds, where have you been? This was the most therapeutic thing I could have possibly done. For your enjoyment, here are some products of my CRAPTASTIC camera:

First of all, I'd like you all to know that, among many things, Ben Folds employs a horn player.

Also, a glockenspiel. And - I KID YOU NOT - the guy played a song with prepared piano. He gave a mini-20c music history speech about John Cage after which he put some Altoid cans and such on top of the keys.

Some other stuff:

This was my actual view of the stage most of the time: (CURSE YOU, SHORT LEGS)

Yes, the frowny face is playing a keytar.

(note the creepy hairy arm in the background)

I have not screamed that loud for that long... EVER. This was the most fun I have had in CENTURIES.

three cheers....

2008-10-17T11:41:00.001-05:00

yesterday was my first socially un-awkward day of work.

YAYYY!!!!!!!

And today, I am going to see Ben Folds in concert.

Also, I have an oboe student. Um, so there's that.

2008-10-14T13:22:00.003-05:00

I don't really feel like myself lately. Maybe it's the weather. I need to see the sun.

I really, really, really, really hate religion. I hate its rules. I hate that it puts a rift between people. I really don't understand why it has to be so complicated. I really, really hate the guilt it causes, and what that does to people. Don't you think the reason we can't find a common ground is because we're all, one way or another, out to convert each other? Don't you think it's better if we just forget all the technicalities and live of love? There is NO WAY we can hope to find absolute truth. So let's just get back to the basics, shall we? Isn't that what Jesus was saying in the first place?

I feel crappy.

It sucks to be on the receiving end of evangelism.

"Witnessing", I think, was never meant to be a one-way street. You can't teach someone if you're not ready to learn from them.

Whatever, I need a nap.

this is as much shangri-la as anywhere

2008-10-11T22:20:00.004-05:00

I am a million things at once.

My first concert was today. It was fantastic. Really, really fantastic. Really.

It's probably for the best that I avoid detail, so I'll just say that I will be inexpressibly relieved when I am done PMSing.

I need to start loving unconditionally. I think that this year, more than anything, that is what I need to learn. Being challenged, frankly, bites the big one.

2008-09-28T12:25:00.003-05:00

I work at the Gap.

...I'll pause so you can laugh.

This is ridiculous for several reasons. First an foremost, I never imagined a time when I didn't feel sorry for spending entire days of the summer watching marathons of What Not to Wear.

Second, it's not fair that I have a basically minimum-wage job that I feel so vastly underqualified for. Let's be honest, I can no better give people fashion advice than I can give them, like, car insurance.

Thirdly... it is literally in my job description that I am required look fashion-forward whenever I'm working. Um... so there's that. I - I just really don't have anything else to add.

In other news, I'm going to be a substitute teacher. As soon as my Minnesota teaching license shows up.

So, if we count the Army, the job tally is up to FOUR. I win.

Lindsay and I are listening to the Avett Brothers. It has been MONTHS and MONTHS. It is just what the doctor ordered. SAY LOVVEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lastly, the grocery store by our house has an Indian food section. And it's basically the best thing that's ever happened to me. The food looks completely disgusting but tastes like heaven. Spicy green heaven.

2008-09-19T11:09:00.002-05:00

Things I've learned from the city:

First and foremost, the Frames are THE SHIT. As per emo-kid-working-at-used-CD-store's recommendation, I bought the album "Set List" and it basically got me through this week. Game over.

Money is hard to come by.

The reasons why four-year-olds should not take music lessons are infinite in nature.

There is very little that cannot be cured by hysterical laughter.

Consult roommates before grocery shopping, or you just might end up with eighty servings of oatmeal in the pantry. No kidding.

Pictures of my house are soon to come.

2008-09-10T08:58:00.005-05:00

As of yesterday I am a violinist in the Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra of Minneapolis.

Here is where we practice (no kidding):

BOMB, right???? I about freaked out. We are playing RACHMANINOFF. And all kinds of other crazy crap. Holy eff, I am SO EXCITED. Our first rehearsal was yesterday. And I am going to have to practice my ASS off. The first violin section is entirely female. It's fantastic. Season program.... http://www.msoa.net/SeasonProgram.html

I start teaching on Monday.

In other news, my best friend from middle school, whom I have not seen or heard from since high school graduation, called me yesterday. She lives in BLOOMINGTON. We're meeting for lunch today.

I'm off to look for a day job... so there's that. AND... FINALLY... we move in TOMORROW!!!!!

2008-09-09T09:56:00.003-05:00

I am so close to my new home I can smell it.

Things I have learned this summer:

There is nothing more comforting than a pajama-clad conversation with a friend, over nasty frozen pizza.

Small-town restaurant = enough drama for three soap operas.

People are not one-dimensional.

I am rather obsessed with self-discovery.

Three cures for any ail:
1) stargazing
2) That Thing You Do
3) Joan Baez, "Diamonds and Rust". Belted out. From an empty stage at the fairgrounds.

Long-distance friendships are possible, and necessary.

Orange City is probably the safest, most comfortable place in the world.

More to come.

2008-09-04T15:58:00.002-05:00

saw an ad for this on facebook, and i feel i need to share it.

you can buy a t-shirt at http://emoforobama.blogspot.com/

2008-08-30T20:07:00.001-05:00

2008-08-22T08:58:00.004-05:00

I actually enjoy the fact that I still get mass emails from NWC in my inbox, it makes stalking easier. Today, we got an email containing weekly specials at the Hub:

Tuesday nights – XBOX 360! We’ll have Rock band/DDR/Fusion Frenzy set up to be played until your hearts content! (After 5pm)

Thursday nights – T-shirt night! We have a specialized t-shirt for only $10.00… And then, every Thursday night, after 5pm, if you wear the shirt in The Hub, you’ll receive a dollar off any order!

Friday nights – Ladies night! After 5pm, all ladies will receive a free soft drink!

Umm... are you joking me? All women get a free soft drink? What the hell? Is that not the stupidest thing you've ever heard, at least since naming the snack bar "the hub"? Sorry men, wrong gonads. No soda for you. Man, whoever thought that one up is an effing GENIUS. Maybe it's a response to all that darned feminist talk on campus... guys, keep your naked traditions, because now the girls get FREE SODA!!!

I wish I was there to see Jolynn Oliver's response to this.

2008-08-12T15:12:00.005-05:00

How amazing it is when students practice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I just made a student really uncomfortable by how excited/emotional I got during his lesson. He's probably 6'4" and a "guy" guy, sporty, whatever. We can't have lessons in the basement like the rest of my students because he's so tall his bow hits the ceiling. And this week, he practiced. If he worked that hard every week he would be outplaying me in no time. I almost swore two separate times during his lesson out of stunned euphoria. Holy frick, if I would have known how happy teachers get when students live up to their potential maybe I would have practiced harder when I was in high school. J.S. Bach is pleased. As am I. Man, I'm so excited I'm pitting out. I need to go for a walk.

2008-08-10T23:20:00.003-05:00

i was born secular
and inconsolable
i heard that he walked, he walked the earth

god goes
where he wants
and who knows
where he is not

not in me

it's the way mothers greet their sons
when it's a moment too late
it's the law of the land
that sometimes the dam just breaks

god works
in mysterious ways
and god gives
and then he takes

from me
- Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins

2008-08-10T14:25:00.004-05:00

dear ridiculous waitress:

news flash: LIFE IS NOT MORE FUN WITH A PERPETUAL STICK UP YOUR ASS.

seriously.

if your goal is REALLY to reduce my self esteem to nil by hurling vile insults my way for things like, I don't know, the manner in which I screw the lids on the syrup containers, you may be surprised to hear that my self confidence comes from elsewhere. It might serve you better to critique something like the way I can't stop thinking about how fun it would be to slide my foot in front of you while you're carrying a tray full of biscuits and gravy. That would probably be more merited, anyway.

we're not in infinity. we're in the suburbs.

2008-08-09T16:29:00.003-05:00

WE HAVE A HOUSE!!!!

just saying.

hey, want to come visit me in the cities? we have a fireplace! (actually two, but who's counting?) mmm... delicious.

2008-08-06T08:21:00.006-05:00

For the record -

I love Minneapolis.

I have, unofficially, a house and a job.

I will be living not four blocks from a Barnes & Noble. And a Red Lobster. And a Panera Bread.

...and a music store. Never in my life have I lived in a place where I didn't have to order music online.

I got to see Steph this weekend (Steph, if you're reading this, heyyyyy PAPPY!!) and sleep on her magical couch that makes me have the strangest dreams of my life. It was GOOD to see her.

Oh, and I want to make sure to document the first thing Matt said to me on Monday: "Hey Aubrey! So good to see you! Man, you're pale! Did you get outside this summer?"

And now I'm driving to Huron to see Sara and Justine and Dani and Chad and Wall-E and fantastic Ruby Tuesday salad bar. Happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happyyyyy!!

and for your benefit... (I love this man)

Elliott Smith - "Needle in the Hay"

"Jealous Guy"

2008-07-31T21:51:00.005-05:00

Today at work one of my customers ordered about $50 of food and left, in lieu of a tip, a silver plastic coin-looking thing with this inscription on the front:

"Where will you spend eternity?"

And this on the back:

"John 3:16"

It made me sad, incipiently, because I didn't get a tip and the people's kids left a huge mess on the floor, but after that wore off it made me sad because I believe in God and I don't believe that pissing off waitresses by leaving a Bible verse instead of money to pay rent is really an effectual way to evangelize. Can I get an AMEN?

FRICK, Christians are idiots.

2008-07-29T14:53:00.011-05:00

Since Justine and I collectively hate our jobs we have taken steps to make our time in the working world more enjoyable. Yesterday's activity was to write a poem at work, using the words "Tuesday" and "propensity". Here is my result:

Tuesday special: Reuben melt with fries

I am rotten cabbage
crouching on folds of your pink deli carnage

You, with propensity to make fresh,
and I, your vindicated sauerkraut
will die, and let live.

And while we're on the subject of poetry... last night (one of the weirdest nights of the summer) I watched the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch. It's a rock musical, very weird, but had some VERY beautiful moments. Basically it's about a German guy named Hedwig who has a sex change so he can marry a guy from America and get his greencard. When they get to America, his husband leaves him, and the musical follows his journey coming into his gender identity and his identity as an artist. This is my favorite part: (the actor that's singing, the main character, is the guy who wrote the musical)

The Origin of Love

When the earth was still flat,
And the clouds made of fire,
And mountains stretched up to the sky,
Sometimes higher,
Folks roamed the earth
Like big rolling kegs.
They had two sets of arms.
They had two sets of legs.
They had two faces peering
Out of one giant head
So they could watch all around them
As they talked; while they read.
And they never knew nothing of love.
It was before the origin of love.

The origin of love

And there were three sexes then,
One that looked like two men
Glued up back to back,
Called the children of the sun.
And similar in shape and girth
Were the children of the earth.
They looked like two girls
Rolled up in one.
And the children of the moon
Were like a fork shoved on a spoon.
They were part sun, part earth
Part daughter, part son.

The origin of love

Now the gods grew quite scared
Of our strength and defiance
And Thor said,
"I'm gonna kill them all
With my hammer,
Like I killed the giants."
And Zeus said, "No,
You better let me
Use my lightening, like scissors,
Like I cut the legs off the whales
And dinosaurs into lizards."
Then he grabbed up some bolts
And he let out a laugh,
Said, "I'll split them right down the middle.
Gonna cut them right up in half."
And then storm clouds gathered above
Into great balls of fire

And then fire shot down
From the sky in bolts
Like shining blades
Of a knife.
And it ripped
Right through the flesh
Of the children of the sun
And the moon
And the earth.
And some Indian god
Sewed the wound up into a hole,
Pulled it round to our belly
To remind us of the price we pay.
And Osiris and the gods of the Nile
Gathered up a big storm
To blow a hurricane,
To scatter us away,
In a flood of wind and rain,
And a sea of tidal waves,
To wash us all away,
And if we don't behave
They'll cut us down again
And we'll be hopping round on one foot
And looking through one eye.

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
So we wrapped our arms around each other,
Trying to shove ourselves back together.
We were making love,
Making love.
It was a cold dark evening,
Such a long time ago,
When by the mighty hand of Jove,
It was the sad story
How we became
Lonely two-legged creatures,
It's the story of
The origin of love.
That's the origin of love.

Frick, that is beautiful. Right?

2008-07-26T17:36:00.008-05:00

I am moving. I am moving very, very soon. I will have my own walls and my own floors and my own bed and my own empty bank account and my own lack of job at Marlins (huzzah!) I have two job interviews next week.

http://www.alongcamemusic.com/

http://www.sotrmusic.com/

And... I own a tool box.

And now, I will give you a taste of Army Band off-duty hours (this is one of many products of a late-night improvised poetry session). There may have been a few drinks involved. Imagine, if you will, a dark room with a lit candle in the middle, and accompaniment of wind chimes and - no kidding - didgeridoo.

Marsupials in the fall
Hamsters have claws
Cold sores
and anal beads
This wasn't in the contract
Shit!

I wouldn't have guessed it, but I already miss being there. It was fun being on band tour again. That hasn't happened since Mexico with the NWC band. Although, as I was telling Jenna, the fact that after Army band concerts there is alcohol allowed on the bus gives it a subtly different flavor from NWC band tour.

2008-07-10T22:33:00.003-05:00

Just have to say that tonight Justine and I saw Wall-E and it made me happier than I've been in a very, very long time.

2008-07-04T16:33:00.003-05:00

I got my diploma and my room deposit in the mail this week.

Slowly... there are becoming less and less things to wrap up. Actually I think the only thing left to do is send in to NWC for a grade report for the Army from Spring '08. Which I am noticeably not doing. I really hate this. Really.

Justine and I have been talking about how different people and different places bring out completely different versions of oneself (which I think I have already blogged about more than once, but what gives?) and I really do think that NWC brought out the absolute best in me. At least the best I've seen so far. And I miss that person. I have turned into a huge jerk-pile in the past month. Almost two. Is that possible? Two months?

I don't want it to be over.

I love you all.

2008-06-26T01:18:00.002-05:00

Lord Jesus Christ,

Let me not wear my ideas like badges.

Thank you for the sound of trees.

Save the souls of men and nature.

Let art save and destroy me for the better.

Let eternity welcome the lost, not Christians, not heathens, but everything that desires light and truth and breath.

Let peace be a verb.

2008-06-25T00:55:00.004-05:00

I love Memorial Park. I love that place. I love sprawling out alone next to the river, listening to the trees and the water, and singing to myself as people walk by and give me weird looks. I love it.

Also - I love marathon phone calls. I believe I talked to Becky last night for two hours and forty-five minutes. I love you man.

I think that our biggest downfall as a race is our inability to understand things outside of our own perspective. I think everyone is out to validate themselves and no one is really looking for anything other than that, whether or not my own self validation has anything to do with absolute truth, whatever the eff that is. I don't think we will ever change for the better until we stop making it our top objective to convert each other. Instead - shouldn't the goal just be to love? That is SO uncomplicated.

I think Jesus planned his ministry around the understanding that everything he said (and didn't say) would be paraphrased, translated, misunderstood, and misinterpreted time and time and time again, like a millenia-long game of telephone. So he kept it simple, like: "hey guys, there are a lot of proverbs and riddles I can tell you, but if there's one thing you can take away from this, one concept you should remember about me, it's just to love each other."

I don't know. Everyone says the message of "salvation" should be simple, but is it possible that it can really be whittled down to one word? I hope so.

2008-06-17T14:13:00.002-05:00

So, the radio station they play at work rocks. Within an hour today, they played three Beatles songs, Sufjan, Avett Brothers, and "Maybe I'm Amazed" (Pauly Mc-C). Although - it makes me feel, if this isn't an oxymoron, incredibly melancholy. I want my friends back.

And for the record, it's a good thing I took 10 semesters of Spanish class so that I can remember how to say complicated phrases like, "Desean ustedes mas cafe?" It makes me feel a little like a moron.

2008-06-16T12:14:00.002-05:00

"Ever notice how you don't feel the thorns in your feet until you stop running?"

I'm not sure why creating change necessitates being far from home. I don't know if feelings of helplessness come from inside or outside, or both. I'm falling back into something I don't want to fall back into.

My ideals aren't my own. They're pieces of other people's long-developed passion that I've pirated to make myself feel more worthwhile. The question is, can they be made personal to me? Or in time, will they wither and die, leaving me an older and fatter version of who I was before I went to college?

Also, is it possible to integrate revolutionary ideas into everyday life? It's one thing to believe in change, to believe in a higher purpose, to talk about seeking out the end of war and the beginning of equality, to bounce around philosophies and religions - but it's something completely different and more daunting to figure out how to piece that together with boring, everyday life.

Mostly I'm not living. I spend my time passing time, doing activities instead of actually being active.

I want to find where self worth comes from. If nothing else, that is my life's goal.

2008-06-08T23:25:00.002-05:00

I wonder if the person I am actually exists, or if I'm just a reflection of random parts of other people. I miss the feeling of home. I miss the feeling of being happy with myself. I think I left a huge chunk of myself in Orange City and I really don't like what's left. I am PMSing for sure.

What do you think is the point of relationships to begin with? Is it worth it fall in love with people, with places, etc, when inevitably you leave it behind?

I think the best parts of myself are things that I find in other people. Now that everyone is gone I'm left to my own devices, and I'm finding myself selfisher, shallower, duller, more passive than I thought I would be, and I miss the things I like about myself just as much, maybe even more than I miss the people who brought them out in me. Eff.

2008-06-04T23:12:00.003-05:00

So after the doctor told me that I'm over 25 pounds overweight, I've been feeling a little self conscious, eating a lot of Special K, fruit, etc. Well I've been "healthy" for about a week now, and while I have managed to lose 5 pounds I think I gained it all back tonight by eating most of an entire package of cinnamon-sugar graham crackers. Whilst doing so I rediscovered the part of myself that LOVES EATING.

Sara and I figured out that, according the doctor's calculation of my weight situation, I only needed to gain 5 more pounds in order to reach the "obese" level, since obesity is 30 or whatever percent overweight. I think it's a worthy goal to achieve, if it means that I can finally eat all the pies I've been staring at every day of work. And/or the ice cream currently beckoning me from the freezer.

I managed to watch Across the Universe (which, by the way, I bought used at Coborn's for FOUR DOLLARS) today with my dad without getting too depressed to my very soul, although it made me miss my roommates even more than I currently miss ice cream.

Why is it that it is so important for humans to feel needed? Isn't that weird? In the animal kindom the most important thing is to get what you need to survive. But we have this complex that we need to be needed in order to be happy. I don't know.

I had a dream last night that Barack Obama had a HUGE afro. I mean, huge, like Leonard the guy on Scrubs with the hook hand. HUGE. As part of a rally he organized this event where Sara would jump off the top of a 16-story building, and he would catch her at the bottom, to demonstrate both his dedication to saving lives and his superhuman strength. Well, he missed, and Sara ended up splattered on the concrete, but it turned out all she needed was to have her ankle wrapped. We then went to visit Crystal and Spencer Whitney, who had this ginormous tupperware container full of tampons in their bathroom. I stared at it for a long time. It was so tall it almost touched the ceiling. The end.

2008-06-01T22:46:00.003-05:00

I wonder how many of my emotions are actual emotions, and how many are just faces I put on to look like how I'm supposed to feel. I think half the time I'm laughing just because I feel like I should, etc. Sometimes I think I'm actually completely dead inside. I feel really empty since I left OC. I feel kind of pointless actually, like a complete pile, like I'm not doing anything worthwhile. Sometimes I sit and try to make myself cry but I usually can't. I just sit and feel nothing. I think I've built up an immunity to negative emotions, maybe to positive ones as well. I think that really sucks.

Does art mean anything when it's not collaborative? I'm having the hardest time making myself practice because there is no one around. Or maybe it's just because I'm dead inside.

Maybe, consequently, life in general is pointless when it's not collaborative. How much of what we feel is original, and how much feeds off the people around us? Like, I hardly ever laugh when I'm watching a movie by myself, but when people are around I'm completely obnoxious. Hmm. Nothing feels like an experience when I'm by myself, it doesn't mean anything until I share it with someone.

Frick, I'm tired.

2008-05-30T13:25:00.002-05:00

Well, I'm a waitress now. This seems like a right of passage for those of us in the arts. People keep asking me what grade I'm in, like I'm in high school. Really though, since I've been in Huron it often feels like I never left. There's no connect between here and Orange City so it kind of feels like college never happened.

Sara left this morning. Justine gets here soon, hopefully, otherwise I might freak out.

I miss London. I found my leftover British currency yesterday. Equivalent of about $15 but they won't exchange it at the bank because it's coins, not paper money. It seems logical that I should go back, because otherwise those 7 1/2 pounds will go to waste. So the moral of the story is... I'm not spending any more money until I have enough for a one-way plane ticket to England. Waste not, want not.

2008-05-28T15:16:00.001-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=miF6rBu8Dvo&feature=email

2008-05-24T10:49:00.003-05:00

I like the sound of the breeze at night, a rabbit's feet on the grass, the flick of a cigarette, the little ashes that disappear before the concrete sees them. I like the thought of possibility, the idea that a person can live without detachment, with pain and righteous anger and with full, untainted joy at the simpleness of beauty and the capacity to be loved.

I love youth - that youth can be defined as hope without practicality, beyond the constraints of time and age.

I want to solve hunger and selfishness and sarcasm, to live free of religion and category, to see the morning as not a challenge to be overcome but as a transitory, fleeting, essential opportunity to love the earth, the people, and the colors that are here and now - not to prepare for a future but to cry and laugh because now, this moment, this chance for betterment of self and of humanity will never again present itself.

a song is something that walks by itself

2008-05-20T11:45:00.003-05:00

News:

I accidentally have a new violin bow named Nigel. Also, Sandra is fixed. I am pleased.

The movie I'm Not There is incredible. Not just because it's about Bob Dylan. It would be incredible anyway. You should go watch it.

I am going to work today at 2. Yuck.

Jenna's niece was born yesterday, Kamryn Ann.

I graduated a few weeks ago.

About every other day or so I decide that I'm going to drop the music thing altogether, and go fix world hunger. I hover between being a complete cynic and a complete idealist, depending on what time of the month it is, and/or how much coffee I've had.

I went to the doctor today for a physical, and the nurse did the whole small-talk "so what are you doing with your life?" thing, and I told her I want to go to grad school for violin performance. She asked me if I was planning on getting my degree online. I laughed but then found out she wasn't making a joke and then I felt a little bad.

2008-05-11T19:18:00.003-05:00

Note to my future self: if you stop imagining, I will kill you.

2008-04-30T16:29:00.003-05:00

Is it possible to selflessly want someone else to be happy? Or is "compassion" indelibly tied to my own self-obsessed search for peace of mind?

Today was my last day of student teaching. Something really strange happened while I was watching the high school symphony rehearse. This is going to sound lame, but it was like watching my past from someone else's visage. I swear to God, I could have been back in 2002 h-town. There was the skinny, greasy-haired socially awkward bassoonist (Josh Hemen?), the underappreciated, soft-spoken second chair violinst (Gina?), the obviously intelligent, talented and serious female percussionist (Angela?), a miriad of Barbie-doll flautists (take your pick) and even the shaggy-haired, emo-looking male oboist, who could have been either brother Adam or Eric Wheeler. There's a girl in the second violin section who has always reminded me of Ariela, a buzz-cut Chris Hunt cellist... holy FRICK, I could go on. It makes me wonder if the treasured American mentality of "everyone's perfectly unique" is nothing but glittery idealistic bullshit. Aren't we really all just the same? Victims of our circumstances, maybe uniquely screwed up, but deep down we're cut from the same mold, right? Why do we spend so much of our lives trying desperately to stand out, when our biggest strength as a race is what we have in common? Isn't that the point of music, anyway? It wouldn't work if we didn't have common emotions, experiences, souls. But maybe I'm way off.

...yes

2008-04-28T17:16:00.003-05:00

If you were wondering, I am "Mrs. Wagner". I've given up on correcting everyone:) Note the music terms of the day.

I think I am a very, very selfish person. I don't know what to do with that. I don't know when watching out/standing up for myself turns into selfishness, you know? Is what I want or need or wish important, or should everything be about "denying" myself, whatever that means, for the sake of someone else?

It is the last week of class. How did I get here?

Is there anything left?

Will I ever like myself again after I'm done here?

Will I ever talk to my best friends again?

It always surprised me after high school some of the people I have NEVER heard from.

I am my own worst enemy, let's be honest.

compliments of dr. holm

2008-04-23T17:46:00.000-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeIM9F-mM4E

2008-04-20T17:13:00.002-05:00

Spalsy and I are singing at Baccalaureate!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gehhhh!! Exciting!!!

Any ideas on what we should sing? Doesn't have to be "Christian", just anything we deem appropriate. Please let me know if you have suggestions!! Woo!!!!!!!!!

2008-04-16T12:19:00.002-05:00

For those of you who have not heard: John Hodgman is a GENIUS. This is from his book, The Areas of My Expertise. Enjoy.

"The Limits of Children"

I have learned that newborn infants roll their eyes around and move their heads and their arms in short jerky spasms. And if you homeschool them, they will stay this way forever. But this makes it difficult to train them in fencing or bartending or any of the other great defensive arts.

When I say that Hodgmina [my daughter] is brilliant, and when I tell people about her guest sermon last Sunday at St. John teh Divine, and her surprising skills at badminton, people want to know: is she a child prodigy?
I reply: I hope not. There is too much pressure put on children. They should have time to explore and enjoy the world as children, and not be forced into the highly competitive badminton circuit. Unless the child really wants that, and has signaled as much by crying or pooping.

Basically, it comes down to this: Child prodigies are fine, but I could do without all the violins. If you have ever been alone at night in Penn Station, barefoot, with only a sword cane and a half-empty bottle of brandy, and suddenly, swiftly, with ninja-like stealth, a group of child prodigies surrounds you, rattling their violin cases, you will know what I am talking about.

...It is hard to find fishing waders or a suit of armor that will fit a four-mounth-old human child.
Luckily, children love hand-me-downs. You can give them all the clothing that you don't wear anymore, like your dickey. )Althought the fact in this case is that I rarely wore my dickey, and I had often found myself wondering why I ever bought it.) But now it is hers, like so many of my old shirts and hats and daggers and cuff links. Hodgmina loves the cuff links, especially after I taught her how exciting it is to put two or three in your mouth and run around the living room.

But it's not just clothes. You can also give children other things you don't have use for anymore, such as your kerosene lanterns, most of your belts, whatever residual knowledge you may have of French literary theory, and your optimism. I used to believe, for example, that you had to spend money to make money. This is obviously not true. But now, Hodgmina believes it. And I find this to be charming.

Hodgmina was just saying it the other day, and I was quite moved. I looked into her eyes as they rolled around in her head and said, "Hodgmina, you are a dreamer. Keep dreaming! For the sake of our planet's future, I hope you never lose your childlike idealism. But at the same time, I hope it does not get in my way.

the late jonathan larson is displeased

2008-04-14T23:35:00.004-05:00

Vol. 3: Sleep soundly, concerned flautists, it's only condensation

tell us your secrets
o puddle of spit on the band room floor
from whence did you come?
from whose lips did you pass?
from what grimy inner brass?
why do you squeak and mourn
with each passing rubber Soul?

my indignance, by you, is disgusted
my damply philosophical spattering
lukewarm, from rusted inside
it's a gracefully bumpy glide
through the brass-ed shiny curvature of my false
intellect

a tractionless shoe-bottom
will slip and smear
ass meets concrete,
an acoustically-savvy floor -
brass players at the door
hoarding further deposits
in metallically-wound sacs

take caution: floor is slippery when wet

the late jonathan larson is displeased

2008-04-06T20:36:00.004-05:00

Vol. 4: An Apology

as you sat under the
pale
sickening
glow
of twinkling Christmas lights

knees hugged to your chest

you looked,
at once,
guilty and victimized.

in one dramatic
inconsequential
motion
you brought your left cheek to your right knee

blocking from my vantage
light-flickers
reflected from one sojourning tear.

slowly, slowly
over shadowy-pink countenance
a twinkling trail stretches.

on your sixteenth birthday,
your eyes turned forty.

2008-04-03T23:21:00.001-05:00

I think my fish is nearing death. Hang on, Rosita.

I have had a lot of firsts this year. For instance, when we went out for my birthday I wore heals with jeans. Etc.

I wasn't going to post this because it's so deliciously angsty, but I like it, and it's art, so if I think it's overly dramatic I'm probably missing the point. Whatever. For the record, life is generally good.

the late jonathan larson is displeased

Vol. 1: The day the guy at CIM told me in a gently worded letter that he wished my violin played better notes

I got pissed today because I forgot to ask you
Why you were holding a half drunk bottle of jaeger in one hand
and a thirty-eight dollar martini in the other

And why did Adrian and Nic and Jamie and the boy named Sue
Never mention that Cleveland is so unromantic?

What would you say if you knew
That my Tchaikovsky is better influenced by Bob Dylan
wailing in my car stereo
than the "Best of Archangelo Corelli" album, a gift from Mrs. Determan

It's never left the plastic
And neither, Cleveland
Have you

Could Dylan explain, excuse
With fingertips calloused, like mine
Why some of my notes were out of tune?
That our message would knock you on your ass
If you had ears for it?

And when did art become a standardized test
With a number two pencil and percentile rank
no Suzuki violinist left behind
So long as her Gucci-toting mother can shoulder the budget

I got pissed today
About my ignorance, my first kiss,
That you forgot to tell me why
My body is real
And my religion is prosthetic

But God's plan was fulfilled
Through Updegraff, and Ginsberg, and Judas, and me
For better or worse
Til death do us part

2008-03-23T19:58:00.004-05:00

My feet move over the pavement like they have a thousand times. Past the corner mansion, past the once-loved tennis courts, through the park where summers were spent. They pause next to a group of bushes, where two girls once constructed a fort with a few old tablecloths and a dishtowel. The park was new then, and the playground equipment glimmered white and blue, before the sun-faded paint was embellished with etched declarations of love and hate.

The wind stings my eyes. The park looks stale and musty. Nostalgia is lost on me. Instead I feel strangely detached. The town seems so small and tired. There is an impatient flutter in my chest, but my feet feel heavy and rooted.

I belong here, this foreign place. But only for a time.

yes... technically yes

2008-03-23T12:22:00.004-05:00

Some things that have made me smile recently:

The Hawaii Chair

small child

Bob meets the Beatles

Merry Easter!

...sounds like a country song

2008-03-22T01:42:00.010-05:00

I have yet to find an ail that cannot be cured, or at least ameliorated, by Adam Sandler night at Rae's, complete with Father Nolan's chocolate chip cookies and milk and the periodic merciless harassment of Drew Barrymore and her matchless theatrical ability. "Glenn, I love you soooo much..." Ahh, what a thespian.

there rust, and let me die

2008-03-19T22:02:00.007-05:00

Life is funny. Really, really hilarious.

I think my greatest talent is transforming completely insignificant events into Shakespearean tragedies in my head. Then I histrionically verbalize them and enlighten people to how much of a crackpot I really am.

Sigh.

it's all going to be okay

2008-03-16T22:14:00.003-05:00

It has been a humbling week.

I have spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself, which is not as effective as you might think. The truth is I'm used to getting what I want. Something in this culture says if you work hard and want something enough you can do whatever the frick you want.

Not true.

Unless Cleveland takes pity on me, grad school will not happen. It's interesting. I feel like a huge loser, because I have given up so much for this over the past four years. I have given up relationships that could have happened or been made stronger, sleep that would have made me healthier, homework that would have made me smarter - for something that ultimately failed miserably. And now that I'm finishing up at Northwestern, my biggest regret is that I didn't invest more in people. It's so weird that at this college that stresses community so much, I didn't have time for relationships. And now it's too late.

But I am feeling better. I spent this weekend with friends, even met some new people. I might move to Minneapolis next year, and eventually London will happen. Depending on how I feel I might try grad school again next year - start up a private violin studio in Minneapolis for the time being, see if I can take lessons from someone marginally awesome, and take life as it comes. For now it is inexplicably comforting to know that I will be living with friends - with artists. I will not waste away by myself.

I am taking deep breaths and making the most of every minute I have left here.

Things could be much, much worse.

standing tall and looking good

2008-03-12T16:34:00.003-05:00

The other day one of Mr. Hallberg's former students came to visit him. He had joined the Coast Guard and just got back from boot camp, on leave for a few weeks. He was all hoo-rah in dress blues. Mr. Hallberg told him I was in the Army and then he informed me with a huge smile on his face that he heard that everyone in the Army got an 11% on their ASVAB, and that the only difference between Coast Guard and Marine boot camp is that Marine is longer. He heard that Army people at boot camp eat cookies and watch movies at night and sit in air conditioning during the day. I could tell he was fresh in that stage of post-IET social incompetency so he had no idea there was anything wrong with anything he was saying. It was a little sad. They totally brainwash you into this mindset of blind religious patriotism. The Coast Guard, come on, you were only at boot camp for a month. For real, brother, get a grip on yourself. Do not sacrifice yourself for "God and country", that's what the so-called "enemy" does, isn't it? "God" and "country" shouldn't even be associated with each other, because let's be honest, America doesn't have much to do with God. What God are we talking about? Isn't that just a buzzword used to justify violence? It's been done for centuries. How many holy wars are we going to fight before we figure out that GOD DOES NOT LOVE PEOPLE KILLING EACH OTHER?

There's just enough of post-BCT "patriotism" and "sense of duty" left in me to be slightly ashamed to say that I will be glad when this whole Army thing is OVER. The military is EFFED UP.

Sorry, Coast Guard boy, I don't think all this was directed at you. All the best to you and your all-star ASVAB results. And, Coast Guard boy, in case you were wondering, I got a 98.

some things never change...

2008-03-10T20:06:00.004-05:00

As I was sitting here like a pile trying not to be suffocated by my own thoughts and downing the last of an astonishingly disgusting bag of chips that I ate for no better reason than I am on the verge of a grad school-induced mental breakdown, I did what most people would do and google image searched myself. This is what I found:

Yep. That's me, the sporty blonde one with the flaming orange letter jacket. Don't I look fantastically athletic? I keep forgetting that I have my unmatched tennis skillz to fall back on in case the whole music thing falls through. It is good to know one's options.

the next phase

2008-03-09T13:51:00.002-05:00

swirls of breath
echoing
cold dirt, and
stale snow

last of winter
first of
what?

time is tapping on my shoulder

2008-03-09T11:10:00.002-05:00

I went to church this morning. I got out of bed at 9:30 and got to church at 10. I could hear Karen Wacome speaking already from outside the door, and I thought it was curious because they usually don't start until 10 or so minutes late. I glanced at the clock in the lounge and it said 11. Double take. 11?

So it's daylight savings time. And I am reasonably sure I wouldn't have ever figured that out if I wouldn't have tried to go to church. I would have gotten to school tomorrow an hour late and wondered what the jeff was going on. I'm pretty much the coolest.

keeping an eye on the world going by my window

2008-03-08T09:47:00.000-06:00

All right players, frick. I have been looking forward to this day for weeks. It is the first day since I started student teaching that I have been able to sleep in. And I woke up. At 7:30.

It panickedly occured to me that this is a mark of grown-upedness. Resultedly I am going back to bed. This is not happening to me.

spring break stats

2008-03-07T00:34:00.000-06:00

Roommates in Canada: 2

Days alone in my apartment: 4

Shots in the arm at drill (immunizations, not ammunition, just to clarify): 4

Concerts conducted: 1

Letters from grad schools: 1

Flight of the Conchords epidodes watched: 6... tonight. (thanks Lindsay)

Hours of Eddie Izzard: 3 (?)

Miles run: 7 (no joke)

Lame poems written: 1.7

I ran out of peanut butter so today for lunch I had to pack a jelly sandwich.

I give a few violin lessons Wednesday evenings, and we usually meet in the music building but when I got there it was already closed. So we ended up going back to my apartment, and I don't own a music stand so we ended up clearing off one of my food shelves and leaning music against boxes of Scooby Doo macaroni and cheese.

I bet my students think I'm a big fat idiot. I try too hard to be funny and end up more often than not with my foot in my mouth. Surprisingly middle schools are much easier to interact with than high schoolers. And they always tell me my outfits are cute. This annoys Mr. Hallberg to death because discussions about my clothing usually ensue while he's trying to rehearse.

I conducted my first concert on Tuesday. I have heard a lot of good things, mostly from students who tell me I did a good job. That's a little strange, right? Anyway one of the music teachers told me that she was sitting in the back of the audience next to a little girl who had long blonde hair similar to mine, and when I started conducting she stood on her chair and imitated everything I did. My soft spot for children is as always about the size of a toothpaste cap but even I had to smile at that.

I said "Hi, Kris" to one of my high school students the other day, and he turned around and told me I freaked him out because he thought I was his mom. WHAT!?!? I don't know a lot, but I do know that I am NOT ready to be mistaken for someone's parent.

It is strangely theraputic how messy my apartment is right now.

Guten nacht.

lucky

2008-03-01T02:39:00.000-06:00

Well, I received my first rejection notice today. But I'm actually okay with it. I didn't want to go there anyway, for real.

Anyway I checked out a book of poetry by Olena Kalytiak Davis, called shattered sonnets love cards and other off and back handed importunities. I am in love with it. I resonate with her SO MUCH. This is part of a poem called "keep some stuff for yourself." do yourself a favor and read it.

i have never told anybody
about the time i i i
slept with three guys at once

cause it never happened

but why o why
did i say anything about
the ping-pong table, the slits
that were his eyes, the river that now runs
backwards, and about the o! o! o!
meadow?

how it was
crossed and recrossed
and crossed

out the grass turning to sea
to wallow

how i crossed my heart and hoped
to finally and decisively

live but died o,
so young and so hard, killed

everything was resurrected
into somebody's mother, somebody's (x?) wife

did i mention my first kiss was extracted
by someone who never should have been that
lucky? and how much later i threw
my virginity and, later still, my vanity
away?

probably

how now i'm wearing them again, like a strapless
backless dress and a powerpuffs backpack?
like a pinkblueyellow hand knit woolen cap?

i have not told anyone, but,
like marty running, i too have shat my pants

and do you recall when X called you unamunam-
unambitious?

you told many many many tales about that
except that maybe you are, were

when will you learn to keep it
quiet
for god's sake

don't tell anyone
you sent your son flying
into a jamb, it was a door he was up against,
it was this hard as a board this life
his my eye
and the blood in it, for you

excuse me,
i have laid aside or betrayed

every one and thing you have ever...
owed
owned
sown
thrown
wanted
got

sometimes do you have to step outside your life
or, at least, outside your house, when it was (nay, is) late late
late at night to see how bright
and warm where you live is, was
how right?

and even then you didn't and don't believe it
because you are and are not right
is was and is wasn't
and it ain't

wrong or right

singing: honesty

is a luxury

will you spare me

the gory details

go ahead, sell that stupid old soul, but, please, mind your step,
your mind. please
please,
pletase!

keep some of it
some of this (shhhhhhhh...)
some of... iiiiiiitttttt
for yourself

all angst aside...

2008-02-25T22:06:00.000-06:00

I have compiled some reflections on the schools I've been to in the past few weeks. Here goes...

University of Minnesota

Okay, not too much that I can tell you, because there was absolutely NOTHING going on on the audition day. Not even anyone to talk to me about the school. And the teacher I auditioned for didn't even come to my audition. So... not incredibly impressed... and my audition went horribly so I don't think I'll get in anyway.

Oh, one thing, there was a lounge in the music building with coffee machines.

Northwestern U

First off, the office extention of the teacher I auditioned for - Almita Vamos - is 1812, which is the same as my NWC extention. I feel good about this.

Apparently the acceptance rate is around 20%, which is lower than.. like... every school ever created. Lower than Julliard. So I'm not too hopeful.

In Evanston I ate the best Thai food of my life. It was. Amazing.

The admissions guy was very pleasing.

For some reason the music building was ridiculously humid. For real. I was sweating. It was very strange. The thing in my violin case that measures humidity (hygrometer?) went berzerk when I was in there. And when it's humid my strings get a little sticky. So my fingers didn't work as well in my audition.

University of Cincinnati

I found it reassuring that the clocks in the music building are the same as NWC's.

The music building was amazingly beautiful. And the practice rooms - get this - have windows that face OUTSIDE. So you don't feel like so much of a hermit. And you can open them so it's not so stuffy. The practice rooms, btw, sounded AMAZING. I loved the acoustics, very ringy and delicious. Oh, and they had friendly messages scrawled on the walls. (see below)

The average admitted CCM graduate student has 85% of her/his tuition paid in scholarships.

The teacher I auditioned for was incredibly pleasant. He was my current teacher's teacher when she was in grad school.

There is housing available especially for CCM students. There are practice rooms inside. Obscene. This is appealing... maybe? Although I get the feeling that I would never see the sun.

I got the impression that the environment here is much more supportive than the other schools which is a HUGE deal.

Cleveland Institute of Music

This school wins the prize for the most uggo building ever created. For REAL. Most of the walls were bricks painted a smarmy aqua color. "Smarmy" of course makes no sense in this context but it's the word that came to mind.

For some reason many of the women auditioning were wearing very booby dresses. Seriously, boobs everywhere.

This was the only school that served us food. Lots and lots of donuts. And lunch.

One of the wings of the building was called the "Lennon" wing.

CIM is located in "University Circle", basically the arts center of Cleveland. There is an art museum right across the street, Severance Hall (home of the Cleveland Orchestra), a botanical garden, and some other cool looking buildings. CIM's smarmy building looked pretty out of place. So CIM wins for best surrounding neighborhood.

See previous post for my impressions of the judges. This was definitely the most snoody feeling school.

Anyway of course I cannot be picky. I will be happy any one of them wants me. I didn't realize how much I want this until I got to CCM and actually played well at my audition. Frick. Anyway the immediately important thing is that I am FINALLY home and I have laid Tchaiko the Psycho to rest, indefinitely. My straightener broke on the flight home but other than that I am in one piece. Physically anyway. Ugh. I'm going to do laundry.

something to be

2008-02-24T20:33:00.000-06:00

I played my last audition today. The Cleveland Institute of Music. Took a theory test (part aural, part written), for which my half-assed attempts at studying in the car proved largely effective.

I was the last auditionee on the last audition day at the school. Dead last. And they made everyone come at 8:30 am, when they told us what our audition time was. Mine was 4:45. So I waited. I took my theory tests. Waited. Watched Scrubs on my iPod. Napped. Ate donuts. Waited.

I played very well. The best audition I've had, I think. They had me play all of my two Bach movements (the other schools stopped me after about half of one movement, which is normal for auditions). I had no memory problems. I was well in tune, mostly. I played about half of the Tchaikovsky. I felt like a musician, an artist, not just going through the motions. I was trying to feel it and show it on my face. Since I was last I went a little longer than the normal 15 minutes.

Afterwards one of the violin teachers on the panel came up and talked to me. "Must be scary coming from South Dakota out east to the big folks," he said. He was trying to be nice. I had an eager "please-be-impressed-by-me" smile plastered on my face. My eyebrows furrowed a little, maybe giving me away. "You did a good job all the way out here in the east, with the big folks."

I tensely laughed and played along. "A little bigger city than I'm used to, I suppose!" My eyes glared smilingly at his. TAKE ME SERIOUSLY. OH MY GOD, JUST TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.

He was trying to be nice. Trying to give me a compliment. But really, that might be what it boils down to. I am a working-class girl playing an arisocratic game. I am not your perfect little Suzuki-mold violinist. All I really want to do is go home and change into my Bob Dylan t-shirt. But this is real. This is important. My musical offering is NOT less legitimate because I haven't been playing every scale and arpeggio eight times a day since I was four. I am real. My music is real, realer than a lot of the people you will let in to your fucking school. LISTEN TO ME. Don't you understand? Don't you get it? Don't you see that I NEED to do this? Take me seriously. Learn from me. Let me learn from you. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

"Thank you for your time, it was an honor to meet you."

"Keep playing, kid."

I'm going home.

i mean, we made it to ohio... who knows where else we can go?

2008-02-24T01:08:00.000-06:00

I am one nervous person in a room full of nervous people. It is a large room, awkwardly quiet. People sipping on cups of gritty coffee, legs jittering, whispering intensely on their cell phones. Metro-looking men wearing pastel ties, hugging oboe cases to their chests, eyes flitting. You can tell the ones auditioning for musical theater by their gelled-up hair and larger-than-appropriate gesticulations. You can tell the pianists by the hand warmers clutched between slender fingers. You can tell the small-town, out-of-place ones (like me) by their white-knuckled hands gripping instrument cases to protect them from theft.

It. is. almost. over.

And the waiting/obsessively checking mail begins.

getting smaller while the world gets big...

2008-02-17T20:23:00.000-06:00

I have been in this building all effing day. All weekend actually. But stuff is coming together. I think.

That was the vaguest description of my life.

Terror Texts was amazingly good. Sarah Palsma is a goddess. As is my recorder-virtuosa roommate.

One more week, everyone, and I will have my life back. One more week. My bow hairs are dropping like flies which is disconcerting. One amazing thing about moving to a bigger city next year will be having violin shops closer than, you know, a three hour drive, so I don't have to make a weekend trip just to get my bow rehaired. So that's good.

In other news... I am in love with Across the Universe. It is better than chocolate. Beatles-flavored chocolate. I loooove it.

on the floor, at the great divide

2008-02-17T00:22:00.000-06:00

When driving back to the OC after drill, or break, etc., I find the sight of the obnoxious orange water tower extremely comforting. I watch for it after I get through Hawarden. I get very excited when I see it looming in the distance. That's weird.

I am just a little angsty feeling. I think I have practiced too much today. But not really. Can I just say, after next week I am NEVER PRACTICING AGAIN. Unless, heaven forbid, I actually get into grad school. Wouldn't that be something?

I need some caffeine. For real. I am going to take care of that, then continue to get p'owned by Tchaikovsky. What a hoser.

our survey says...

2008-02-05T21:21:00.000-06:00

frick frick frick frickety frick frick FRICK FRICK FRICK.

I am not proud of myself. My shitpile crapfaced self. FRICK.

on a sunday...

2008-02-03T14:34:00.000-06:00

Aubrey: "Violists, please circle the mezzo-piano in your parts at measure 43."
Violist #1 (raises hand): "Can we go get ice cream?"
Violist #2 (raises hand): "I'm going to Maine this summer."

Update: Middle schoolers have ADD. And for the record, I have never witnessed an orchestra in which all the divas are in the viola section. Interesting phenomenon.

Also, three weeks from today and the grad school-related cycle of panic, self-hatred and despair will be DONE. And I am going to sleep twelve hours every night. And I will not have twelve people walking by my practice room at 11 every Friday night looking at me judgingly, thinking, how sad that that girl has no social life. Not that I blame them, because it's completely true.

four years later...

2008-01-30T16:58:00.000-06:00

I went back to the city where we met. It smelled like fertilizer. Usually does. The road to the building was blocked, under construction. I didn't go inside, but I wanted to. I felt pathetic.

I imagined you sitting there, cross-legged, the only person in history to look brooding while wearing a sweater vest.

I haven't seen you for a long time. Months.

You gave me some things I can never lose. For that, I thank you. Even if it makes me feel like dying sometimes, it is art. I couldn't ask for more, or less.

I enter into something new. Something separate, but I still hear your voice in my head. Flighty, laughing, tragic. My voice answers, shaky, pretentious. I wait for yours to fade.

It hasn't.

Like watching a scary movie, I hide my face in my hands but peek through anyway.

I can see slits of your face through the cracks between my fingers. You are smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners.

That's how I'll remember you.

don't you step on my blue suede shoes

2008-01-27T21:01:00.000-06:00

For four years, I have agitatedly wondered why I lose all sense of social competency when at Guard drill. I am happy to say that, after countless weekends of awkwardness, insecurity and despair, I have finally solved the puzzle.

Two words:

Combat boots.

Seriously.

Nothing can strip a woman of her confidence more swiftly and completely than huge clunky dirt-colored clown feet.

oh great intentions, covenant with the imitation

2008-01-26T01:45:00.000-06:00

I've been trying to write something to submit to Spectrum - I've always meant to do it but I've never gotten around to it. And I'm tired of having inconsequential intentions. Anyway I wrote some stuff tonight, but you know how you get on what you think are amazing late-night spurts of creativity, then you read it over in the morning and think, "wow, I am remarkably disabled"? Yeah, I'm reasonably sure this is one of those times. Piss.

Speaking of which, Sweeny Todd was FABULOUS. Depressing but fabulous.

So I am at home, indulging in one of my guilty vices, a show on TLC which will remain nameless. I have drill tomorrow, which may or may not be a disaster as I have not played my horn since approximately September.

Anyway, I am off to reconvene my current Sufjan Stevens binge. That man is out of control.

Good night!

i'm glad we saved a piece of this marsh

2008-01-19T19:40:00.000-06:00

I am tired of letting other people's bad decisions make me feel like an idiot. That is EFFED UP.

Let's be honest, everyone is overconfident, ignorant, self-righteous, cynical, naive AND insecure in her or his own special way. That's just humanity. I wish we could all learn to unapologetically embrace our own shit and deal with it out in the open instead of shoving it under the surface, wearing some kind of perfect little hey-everyone-look-how-put-together-I-am mask. It KILLS me.

I need to practice more but I am too worked up. Although I suppose Tchaikovsky by his very nature caters to pissed off musicians. Hopefully that will play to my advantage tomorrow.

preachers preach of evil fates, teachers teach that knowledge waits...

2008-01-16T00:48:00.000-06:00

My recital is coming. Like the plague. A giant flesh eating plague followed by cake. Shudder. There should be a parallel to that Eddie Izzard sketch about cake or death but I can't quite work it out.

Just want to say that the hilarity of the events of the past few weeks was partially lost on me, until last night after I watched Edward Scissorhands with my roommates. We had a nice long talk which ended in all of us doubled over with sore stomachs from laughter. It feels good to be on the other side of it all. It feels good to be gaining back some self confidence. It feels good to feel so RELIEVED. Chalk one up.

I have become one of those annoying people who walks around campus with their iPods on all the time. But it puts me in good moods. I can't help it.

So... here's the countdown:

Days until recital: 4
Days until student teaching: 13
Days until U of M audition: 25
Days until the other 3 auditions: 37

There it is. I'm not going any further for sanity's sake.

I am going to play some more Paganini, who by the way was a freak of nature.

peace!

timekiller...

2008-01-14T14:42:00.000-06:00

So Jenna and I have been inconsequentially/amusedly browsing tattoo pictures on the internet. This is what happens when I have no class and too much time to practice. Anyway I thought I would share some of our favorites with you. Enjoy!

This is supposedly a tattoo of all the thumb keys on a bassoon. A bassoon tattoo is a phenomenon not often witnessed this side of the Mississippi.

Good choice, bro.

Music is for the ears, friend, not the nipples. Just my opinion though.

We came across a lot of these.

I don't think I have anything to add to this one.

UGLY UGLY UGLY UGLY pukeeyy

Slightly African American Bob Dylan.

Yes, my friends, it is DAVID BOWIE. This one's for you, Justi.

This one is actually pretty cool. Large, but cool.

Uh...

Next time you think to yourself, "Aubrey and Jenna are crazy obsessive", think back to this guy and we will seem much tamer.

This was entitled "The Musical Alphabet". In case you were wondering.

Yes please, everyone should have a keyboard instrument tattooed on their breasts. A rather curvy keyboard instrument I might add.

This is not okay.

HANSONNNNNN

Too hardcore for your own good, buddy.

I'm not sure this is something to be so excited about... although I bet Ringo is proud.

And... the WINNER. this one takes the cake. Nothing can beat a tattooed clarinet.

2008-01-10T14:31:00.000-06:00

80% Chris Dodd
80% Barack Obama
79% John Edwards
79% Hillary Clinton
75% Joe Biden
70% Bill Richardson
63% Mike Gravel
63% Dennis Kucinich
53% Rudy Giuliani
43% John McCain
40% Tom Tancredo
38% Mitt Romney
31% Mike Huckabee
23% Fred Thompson
16% Ron Paul

http://www.gotoquiz.com/candidates/2008-quiz.html">2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz

dreidel

2008-01-05T12:49:00.000-06:00

no days you can borrow, no time you can buy
no trust in tomorrow. it's a lie
and i feel like i'm dipping and diving
my sky shoes are spiked with lead heels
i'm lost in this star car i'm driving
but my air sole keeps pushing big wheels

my world is a constant confusion
my mind is prepared to attack
my past a persuasive illusion
i'm watching the future, it's black
what do you know? you know just what you perceive
what can you show? nothing of what you believe
and as you grow, each thread of life that you leave
will spin around your deeds and dictate your needs
as you sell your soul and you sow your seeds
and you wound yourself and your loved ones bleed
and you habits grow, and your conscience feeds
on all that you thought you should be
i never thought this could happen to me

i feel like a spinning top or a dreidel
the spinning don't stop when you leave the cradle
you just slow down
round and around the world you go
spinning though the lives of the people you know
we all slow down
how you gonna keep on turning from day to day?
how you gonna keep from turning your life away?

don mclean

not for all the farms in cuba

2008-01-02T17:21:00.000-06:00

I am feeling better, after a night of listening to angry girl music in Justi's van followed by a viewing of more than a healthy dose of episodes of The Babysitters Club which I found oddly enough in my brother's old room.

Although I have to say, people are generally idiots. Myself included.

I am packing up, headed to see Ruthie tomorrow! Excitement!

tangerine trees and... homemade espresso drinks.

2007-12-28T02:38:00.000-06:00

I have been having very strange dreams.

I turned in all my Northwestern University stuff last night, after slaving away for another 6 hours on essays and resumes and crap.

I really don't know what it's all for, I'm just keeping my options open.

On the up side, I may or may not have received for Christmas: a) a 72-piece dish set for our apartment (three cheers for not eating off of napkins! Betsy, you're off the hook); b) the entire set of Beatles Anthology DVDs; and c) a combination coffee and espresso maker, complete with steamer for making cappuccinos and other fine concoctions. All of which I am certain will sizeably improve my standard of living from here on out.

I want to go to England next year.

It's great to have aspirations I suppose.

Apparently I have family other than my parents coming to my violin recital. Which is both exciting and frightening, given my state of striking unpreparedness. Ah well, at least there will be cake. And I did come up with a poster, although I haven't decided yet if I want to advertise, I suppose it depends on if I ever start feeling confident.

I finally mustered enough courage to listen to a recording of my voice recital, and I was pleasantly surprised. I was happy with most of it, which means I either got better at singing or got less picky. Probably a combination.

I am seeing Ruthie next week! Holla!!!!!!!!!!!

(if you want it)

2007-12-25T01:08:00.000-06:00

I am panicking a little.

I have not been practicing. Hardly at all. I have been mainly solving puzzles out of my Kakuro book and staring at my cell phone. That's pretty much all.

This might be one of those late evening angsty episodes that I'll feel stupid for later.

I don't think I really want to be a violinist. I want to go to graduate school. Basically I just want to go to school. I don't want to grow up. I want to be at Northwestern. I didn't think I would ever say that because I spent most my first three years wishing I was somewhere else and shutting myself in a practice room. When really the most meaningful thing I could have been doing is being with people I love. I figured I had some superior musical or scholastic drive because I was practicing five hours a day while my friends were in their dorm rooms sitting on their floors drinking sodas and laughing with each other.

But that's really all I can figure out that means anything. Being with people and sharing their pain and joy. I guess that's what attracts me to music, because it is a way for people to feel pain and joy together. But I do not want to spend most of my waking hours by myself practicing shifts and fine tuning. It doesn't mean anything to me right now.

If I weren't in the Army I would go do something else next year. Like the Peace Corps. Something far away that is vital for someone other than myself.

My biggest fear is getting a job out of college and staying there, getting into a routine and following it for the rest of time. I have a feeling that if I ever live by myself I will spend all my spare time playing Minesweeper and watching reruns of Scrubs. Because that is what I do with all my spare time now. Because it is a way for me to pass the time without actively engaging in my thoughts.

I don't want to live alone. Ever. Ever ever ever.

I want to be with lots of people. I want them to love me and I want to love them. I want to be a hippie in a commune and own nothing and share everything and be happy because life is good and love is everywhere. I want to live idealism and naivete and believe that people really are good and that things can change and that art is necessary and that TV is not. I want to make people better and I want to be made better. I don't want to believe in God. I want to believe in connectedness and laughter and peace and pain. I want to believe that people can live for the benefit of others and stop their petty pointless crap.

I hate the reality of everything around me. I hate the yielding of youthful idealism to the resignation and practicality of adulthood. I need a cold shower. I need to be woken up. I need to snap out of it. Whatever "it" is.

time killer!

2007-12-23T00:26:00.000-06:00

Copied from Ruthie, who copied from Candi.....

The trick to this survey is you are not allowed to use my answers.

1. How long do you spend in the shower?
Are we talking per week? Or per shower? Because for both questions I would have to say around 12 minutes

2. Name something a football player wears under his uniform.
chest hair

3. Name something people hate to find on their windshield.
dead bunnies

4. Name something a man might buy before a date.
a brain, hopefully

5. What's another word for blemish?
idiosyncracy

6. Something you cook in the microwave.
marshmallow peeps! huzzah!

7. Name a piece of furniture people need help moving
a piano. believe me.

8. Name a reason a younger man might like an older woman
she has nice shoes

9. Name something a dog does that embarrasses its owner.
it's hard to improve on Ruthie's answer - "humping people's legs" - not that I've ever had an awkward experience with that or anything.. cough cough sara cough cough
But if forced to be unique I would say biting someone's child. that one happened too.

10. Name a kind of test you cannot study for?
test of character?

11. Name something a boy scout gets a badge for?
me make fire!

12. Name a phrase with the word Home in it?
How does it feel to be on your own? Like a complete unknown? With no direction home?

13. Name a sport where players lose teeth?
Marching band. Seriously.

14. Name something a teacher can do to ruin a student's day?
Talk about vocare

15. What is a way you can tell someone has been crying?
Blotchy cheeks

16. Name something found at a Séance?
The Babysitters Club. Anyone remember that episode?

17. Name a bird you wouldn't want to eat?
Penguin! Just kidding, they look so cuddly they're probably tasty too

18. Name something that gets folded?
a flag

19. Name something a person wears even if it has a hole in it?
leg warmers. yes please.

20. Name something that gets smaller the more you use it?
memory?

what else can judge colombus do?

2007-12-13T01:15:00.000-06:00

Oh man, I feel like crap.

How can I let my self concept be tied up in someone else? How is it that one person by one action (or inaction) can make me regress to fourteen years old? This is so effing lame.

Holy lord I want my philosophy papers to be done.

For better or worse I watched The US vs. John Lennon with my roommates tonight and I loved it. But I felt guilty for loving it. Until now I never felt ashamed of myself. I never felt the need to justify things that are important to me. Why does there always have to be a reason? Why is it so important to make people understand and affirm me? Why is it that when they don't I feel illegitimate and juvenile? Just because someone does want to give it a chance? One person? I know what is real to me and I know why it makes sense. I wish that were enough. I wish I were above this. Maybe I should go back to claiming satisfaction in independence. But who really believed that anyway? I sure didn't.

Well comrades, I have next to me a basket of fries and a quad-shot cappuccino, and it IS going to be a good night, because I have decided that it is going to be a good night, screw it all. In twelve hours I am going to bed and staying there for a good while. Huzzah!

don't think twice, it's all right

2007-11-22T00:12:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I felt like a big pile of feces... I got up at like 6 to work on homework and then went to observe orchestra at the high school and then I had class... choir in chapel ...lesson...rehearsal...class... etc. on four hours of sleep... and my stomach hurt like a b-yotch and I was still angsty from the night before when I wrote my last hella angsty blog. Anyway so it's 12:15ish and I'm walking to my voice lesson, walking past Heemstra when I hear Heemstra radio blaring out one of my all-time favorite Bob Dylan songs. I stopped in my tracks, laid down supine on the grass in front of Heemstra and gazed at the clouds for five minutes until the song was over. And I have been in a wonderful mood ever since.

What have we learned from this? When life hands you a crap sandwich, Bob will be there to tell you "it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe, ... don't think twice, it's all right." What a wondeful, wonderful man.

And now, back to grad school essays.

as i watch the drops of rain...

2007-11-20T14:41:00.000-06:00

I find myself inevitably and continuously convicted of how much I suck at life. Seriously. As my senior year has unfolded I've prided myself in finally getting it together, having healthy priorities and a more mature, balanced perspective. But I'm pretty sure just thinking those thoughts is evidence of deeper levels of effed-up-ness. Honest to God, I feel like destroying something. We spend four years at college preparing, preparing, preparing, jumping through hoops as a means to an end, assuming that soon we will arrive somewhere and it will all be worth it. But when happens when we leave here? We get a job? And then work to get a better one? So that first job is really just a hoop we jump through to prepare for something bigger, hoping that when we arrive there it will be worth it? But what if life is really just a progression of things leading to the next thing and I never actually arrive anywhere? I'll be 80 years old, looking back, thinking, well, that sucked.

Problems don't go away, they just change shape. Or I deal with them differently. Freshman year I dealt with them by not letting myself think about anything else, wallowing in debilitating depression and waiting for someone to pull me out. I got tired of that so I changed to an "ignorance is bliss" mindset for awhile and didn't allow myself to think about anything at all. Now I'm somewhere in the middle... playing the game and pretending to be an awesomely motivated good little Northwestern student while my insides want to puke up all the shit that my mind works so hard to suppress. Every once in awhile it rears its ugly head and hopefully whomsoever is around doesn't die from the shock.

Holy crap I'm feeling emo.

we're not in infinity. we're in the suburbs.

2007-11-16T17:12:00.000-06:00

I just had a serious "HOLY SHIT" moment. I have apparently ONE more violin lesson before Christmas break. Classes start the 8th... my recital is the 20th... which means I have at best three lessons before then. And at best four before grad school auditions.

I could use a certain quote from the beginning of I Heart Huckabees to express exactly what I am feeling, but perhaps I should leave it up to the imagination.

time wounds all heals

2007-11-02T00:03:00.000-05:00

So....

It's Thursday. My voice recital is a week from Sunday. I have not been able to sing since Friday. Give me a P! Give me an A!.... N...I..C.......

However I scored a ***********92%***************** on my last philosophy paper. Hell yes my friends.

Assuming my voice returns before then.... here are some recital posters.

HEY EVERYONE!

2007-10-11T23:17:00.000-05:00

As I enter the last quarter of my last semester of class, I find myself asking the same question I asked during the first quarter of my first semester...

WHY do people think it's okay to talk on their cell phones in quiet study lounges?

And I ask you, is there REALLY a point to apologizing to me that your phone rang - thus disturbing my studying - and then proceed to LOUDLY talk to your boyfriend for the next hour?

FRICK.

the saint of bleeker street

2007-10-01T02:38:00.000-05:00

I'm researching for my voice recital program notes, and currently I'm reading an interview with Gian Carlo Menotti. This man is SO INTERESTING. Read this. The interviewer, Chotzinoff, is asking Menotti about time he's spending working for a festival in Italy.

Chotzinoff: "I think it is more important for the world... that you devote all your time to writing music." [instead of working at the festival]

Menotti: Of course I'm flattered that you consider my music so important. But I am unable to take my music as seriously as you do. Life and people are more important. The festival is a symbol of my guilt complex.
You see, I have always been a happy man. And because I have been happy I never felt that writing music was enough. It has been very difficult for me to ignore the world. I am terribly conscious of the world around me. This sense of guilt is, I think, a witness to my character. To satisfy my desire of feeling useful I waste my time in a sort of - a sort of unending, useless kindness. If I weren't a composer I probably would be a nurse in a hospital. This conflict in my life is tremendously strong. Spoleto [the festival] satisfies my craving to be useful, to help people. At the same time, I often feel as you do, that I am wasting my time. You are right, of course. I should be composing. Yet I always regret not having a family and children. I feel selfish in dedicating my life to myself. I feel well, I sleep well, I'm happy. But often I feel I am wrong. One shouldn't be happy, should one? You see, fundamentally I am dissatisfied with myself because I believe exactly the opposite of what T.S. Eliot expresses in The Cocktail Party. I don't believe that one can somehow find happiness or excuse in partaking of the things of the world. I feel that the fact that martyrs exist in the world is an indictment of anyone who is happy. To put it more bluntly, I feel that happiness is a form of cowardice.

I don't really know what to add to that. It creeps me out. I wonder if everyone just goes through life thinking they would have been more useful doing something else. It seems like if I miraculously were able to do everything I want to as an artist, I would feel like I was doing something that needs to be done, the most legitimate thing that I could possibly do. But maybe purpose and direction always remain one step ahead of where you can feasibly get to.

God, it just seems like a such WASTE if the only thing I really want to do doesn't matter to the world. If I'm always going to feel guilty for pursuing what I'm passionate about - music, which most people consider a luxury - while most people have to use all their intellect just to find ways to keep from starving to death - is it really supposed to be about doing what I want to do, or is it about overcoming what I want to do and replacing it with what needs to be done?

Happiness is a form of cowardice. Anyone want to take a shot at interpreting that?

memphis blues again

2007-09-16T12:01:00.000-05:00

He was an archetype of the modern male violinist. His dark hair was just a little disheveled, dropping toward eyes just a little moody and brow just a little furrowed. A shy smile betrayed the moody artist look. He walked with his head tilted slightly to the left, stuck there, probably, from too many hours of work. And when he held his instrument, he was just gentle enough to make you sure he was gay, and just aggressive enough to let you hold out hope. It was Bartok, after all. That's about as hetero a violinist can get.

Steven Copes: "Do you know where the stage door is?"

Aubrey: "err...uh.... yeh.... it's... uh..." (trying to make her eyes say something more like: Will you make out with me please? It might be relaxing before the concert...)

Male violinists all have the same hands. Dignified, slight fingers belonging to another era, of puffed sleeves and powdered wigs. Fingers attached to tragically slender palms and wrists carved of glass.

As Aubrey holds out her hand and gestures toward the door she quickly withdraws it, remembering that her hands are probably more mannish than his.

He doesn't seem to return her sentiment. Damn. Effing man-hands ruin it again. She holds open the door, trying to keep her hands tucked into her long black sleeves.

reflections

2007-09-11T21:55:00.000-05:00

TYLER: Our fathers were our models for God. And if our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?
...Listen to me. You have to consider the possibility that God doesn't like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen...
JACK: It isn't?
TYLER: Fuck damnation, man. Fuck redemption. We are God's unwanted children. So be it!

...etc.

We're watching Fight Club in my film class. Ironic because this is exactly the kind of stuff I've been trying to process through lately.

Supposedly man is God's baby, God's creation, God's prized possession. He creates a perfect world for man... but something goes wrong? Like Jurassic Park? Suddenly he can't control it, can't beat the system, would love to save everyone from their sins but can't? Can't look upon sin, but created the ones in whom sin is the most salient characteristic? Is devastated that most of his creations are rotting in hell forever? The Mozarts, the Lennons, the Ghandis... artists, revolutionaries, truth-seekers...all hopeless...

Either God really isn't in control at all, and is as subject to the system of right/wrong/punishment/redemption as man is, or he knew what would happen to Adam and Eve before he made them.

Does it ever occur to anyone that this is all what he intended? Why do we assume that God is really good at all? Because we want it to be true? Or what? Isn't it Thomas Moore who talked about first making thieves and then punishing them? How is that any different than hell for the punishment of sin? If given a choice, who would choose a sinful nature? If my tendency is to walk away from God, whose fault is that? Mine? Or is it the fault of someone who created me like that?

I am tired of cliche assumptions about faith and revelation and prayer and "love" and "grace" and choice and providence. Buzzwords. Meaning left those words centuries ago until they were nothing but labels for mysteries we can't unravel, illusions that lead us astray from any real and uncomplicated truth.

take what you have gathered from coincidence

2007-08-30T01:39:00.000-05:00

I am thoroughly enjoying my philosophy class. For realio. Maybe I should change my major. I wrote a paper for most of the evening and I enjoyed it.

I did it, finally, despite the strikingly unhelpful trip to the career center thingy yesterday - I registered for the GRE. I paid my huge amount of money that I don't have. I am taking it in three and a half weeks. I am study study studying and holy crap is my math rusty. You would think, right, that finally, at last, in GRAD SCHOOL I would get to stop studying things that have NOTHING to do with my field of study, but who am I to decide?

Violin lesson tomorrow. Slightly apprehensive. Voice lesson Friday. Significantly more apprehensive, given my lack of preparation and my pre-recital jury in five weeks. Cello lesson also on Friday. Slightly... bemused?

I had a panini from the snack bar, LAMELY named "The Hub at N-Dub". Every time I hear the name my soul dies a little. Honestly. But the panini was darn tasty. Not to mention free, or at least pre-paid.

And, finally, I'm playing in the Sioux City Symphony concert in a few weeks and they put me in the first section. It's nice to finally have affirmation of some kind of competence. Now I just need to actually feel competent.

You will NEVER guess who is playing at the Qwest Center in Omaha on October 26th, the very two-year anniversary of when Jenna and I saw Paul McC - yes, it's the one and only indomitable Robert Zimmerman, freshly returned from New Zealand. We're trying very very very very very hard to be able to go. Holy holy CRAPSTERS that would be amazing.

looking-glass ties

2007-08-23T01:21:00.000-05:00

I'm back here. I have a yellow senior class, uh, sweat band, for clash of the classes that I'm currently using as one of those wrist cushions for my computer mouse so I don't get tendonitis. Or make my tendonitis worse. Whatever.

I may possibly have the most awesome courseload of ALL TIME. Although it's only day two so I can't say for sure. All I can tell you is that today I had fifty - count them - fifty - minutes of class. All day. All effing day. I read a book for fun and visited a friend. I didn't freak out when I had to take extra time to run to Alco or wait in line for lunch. Oh hell yes this is the life. It is not yet 11:30 and I am thinking to myself... bedtime? Who knows? No class til 9:25... I may just get ten hours of sleep tonight.

As more and more friends sell their lives to engagement/marriage... I realize more and more that I am in NO WAY cut out for that. There is so much blocking that path I can't see any light peeking though at all. Holy crapface.

The longer I'm here, the more I think to myself... Thank God I'm not in band. I can't even explain it, but it makes the idea of college so much more appealing. What a strange phenomenon.

goodnight and good luck

2007-08-17T21:45:00.001-05:00

I'm leaving tomorrow. I guess I've accomplished a few things this summer; namely, a newfound infatuation with Don McLean, a considerable amount of time watching Scrubs, lots of observation hours... and some time actually feeling confident as a violin teacher. Even though all my students are about a foot taller than me.

I'll just say as I enter my last year at NWC: I have never been more freaked the hell out. I'm hanging out with Sara and Justine tonight for the last time until God knows when. I'm about to start the audition process for a number of grad schools that likely are way over my head, and here I am scared of my Symphonette audition in front of the big bad new director who is one of the nicest guys I've ever talked to. I need to grow some self esteem. Game over.

don't follow leaders... watch your parking meters

2007-08-13T20:20:00.000-05:00

Aubrey: "So, are you all warmed up?"
Violin student: "Yeah... well, I was just playing Guitar Hero."

two of my favorite people

2007-08-05T16:47:00.000-05:00

I love this poem. I love it I love it I love it. Read it. NOWWW

"Of Bob Dylan"

There are those who do not imitate,
Who cannot imitate
But then there are those who emulate
At times, to expand further the light
Of an original glow.
Knowing that to imitate the living
Is mockery
And to imitate the dead
Is robbery
There are those
Who are beings complete unto themselves
Whole, undaunted,-a source
As leaves of grass, as stars
As mountains, alike, alike, alike,
Yet unalike
Each is complete and contained
And as each unalike star shines
Each ray of light is forever gone
To leave way for a new ray
And a new ray, as from a fountain
Complete unto itself, full, flowing
So are some souls like stars
And their words, works and songs
Like strong, quick flashes of light

From a brilliant, erupting cone.
So where are your mountains
To match some men?

This man can rhyme the tick of time
The edge of pain, the what of sane
And comprehend the good in men, the bad in men
Can feel the hate of fight, the love of right
And the creep of blight at the speed of light
The pain of dawn, the gone of gone
The end of friend, the end of end
By math of trend
What grip to hold what he is told
How long to hold, how strong to hold
How much to hold of what is told.
And Know
The yield of rend; the break of bend
The scar of mend
I'm proud to say that I know it,
Here-in is a hell of a poet.
And lots of other things
And lots of other things.

-- Johnny Cash

old roger draft dodger

2007-07-31T22:32:00.000-05:00

Does anyone else notice that there are only two and a half weeks left of summer?

I am getting in observation hours like mad... soon they will be gone... ALL GONE... four more days with adorable Latino kids + three days of marching band = HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've finally sucked it up and started GRE prep... I really hope this thing doesn't kick my ass too badly. Although one school I'm looking at - Cleveland Institute of Music - requires an entrance exam in music history/theory instead of GRE, and I'm possibly even more worried about that. I'm hoping I can make the Army pay for the GRE... but hey, what's a couple hundred bucks when I'm about to be gazillions of dollars in debt anyway?

In other news, I love British people. I love them. I have been watching my fill of BBC America and it makes me completely sad that I live here and not there. There's always the possiblity of going to the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts (Paul founded it!) although it costs an arm and a leg and is supposedly a crappy school. And they don't really have a MA program in performance, but they do have one in "Community Music", whatever that is. But Paul does periodically make visits there so I'm thinking it's worth going AWOL from the Army and hitchhiking to Beatledom.