Short Postcards

Dearest Time,
Why must you be so limited?  Why must you go by so fast?
Sincerely, me.

To Mr. William Smith:
Thank you for helping to start a fantastic college.  It's only been two weeks and I absolutely adore it.
~ member of WS Class of 2014
ps- your statue on The Hill is quite stately, I must say.

Queridas Señoras W.,
Tengo que decirse: ¡Encontré a una amiga con ganas para español!  Tiene muchas ganas, y creo que les gusta a ella.  Está loca en las mejoras maneras posibles, y es divina.  Debemos conocernos, creo, cenamos juntos o algo así.
¡Y!  ¡Hay club de tango argentino!  ¡Es fantástico!
abrazos,
~ graciela

To: Time
From: Me
Where have you gone, you slippery demon?  What the heck??

Only Human

Last summer, a local chamber music festival hosted master classes for music students in the area.  My teacher and I decided it would be good performance experience, so I signed up and set to readying some pieces for critique.

            I put in the necessary work, so naturally I felt prepared.  I was confident; playing in front of people wasn’t something I found nerve-wracking anymore.  I did my usual warm-up beforehand, a slow run-through of the three pieces I had prepared.  Environment shock wasn’t a worry; I had played in the space before.  Everything felt normal.

            By my calculations it should’ve gone well.

Preparation can only take you so far, though.

            About two or three beginner students were queued up to play before me.  As it usually happens, the professor running the class overestimated how much time he had with the younger students, and took longer to get to me than I had expected.  I had played with long stretches between my warm-up and performance before, I wasn’t too worried about the lapse.  When it got to be my turn I mounted the stage, sat before the piano, and started to play the Bach I had prepared.

            Sometimes one tiny hitch throws everything else off kilter.

            I barely made it through the piece, having stumbled more times than I cared to count and in spots that should’ve been fine.  The teacher gave some feedback, as expected in a master class, but most of it was basic stuff that would’ve normally appeared in the piece had I played it normally.

He then glanced at his watch and informed me we only had time for one other piece.  This further upset my inner balance: I had prepared to play two other pieces, not to choose between them on the spot.  Throw that on top of my mediocre performance and I was positively frazzled, I couldn’t focus.  The second piece suffered the consequences.

By anyone’s standards, it was a disaster.

I’d never performed so poorly before. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it just wasn’t.  I felt terrible.  Students are encouraged to stay for the entire class, but I was so disgusted I excused myself early and walked home.  As I walked barefoot through my backyard I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself.  How could I’ve screwed up, and so badly? I picked my way up the driveway, trying to scrape some consolation together with little success.  As I unlocked the back door music met my ears; we must’ve left the CD player on when we left.  It was almost like somebody changed the track on purpose:

We’re only human, yes we are, only human so far…

Ukulele

From the (new!) title of this blog one can surmise my primary instrument.  But, after my mother recently half-jokingly suggested my brother or I pick up the ukulele, I've been googling how-to-play and tab sites, and seriously considering giving the ukulele a shot.  It's a perky little instrument, it's kind of unusual, it's certainly easier to transport the instrument than transporting my current one, and from what I've been reading it's not all that hard to learn.  Plus, I think it'd just be fun to try.

Two main roadblocks stand between me and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", however.  The first is that I don't have a ukulele as of yet.  It probably goes without saying that learning to play an instrument without actually possessing that instrument is just a little bit difficult.

The second thing is that such instruments are completely and totally foreign to me.

Here's the thing: I'm a classically-trained pianist with about ten years experience.  I can play the likes of Bach, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Chopin.  When somebody sticks sheet music up for something jazzy or more of a popular song, though, it feels awkward for me to play, even after I look over the music and play through it a bunch of times.  I know absolutely nothing about playing the ukulele, guitar, or anything remotely similar to these instruments.  Hopefully it won't be too much trouble, though.

Impediments aside, though, I've been tracking down songs to learn at some point, including bits from…

April Smith and the Great Picture Show


Jason Mraz


Charlie McDonnell (aka charlieissocoollike)

And, it's probably mandatory that I learn this at some point.

Hopefully it'll work out so I can play at least play a little something.  We'll see how that goes.


(EDIT: I wrote this post 27/7/10... since then I've received a uke for an early birthday present, and I can play a handful of chords and a couple tunes!  Woo!!)

On Collaboration

Writing is usually thought of as a solitary pursuit, and to a certain extent it is.  One can't exactly write while carrying on a conversation, or in a restaurant among a bunch of people.  However, it's something one can't do completely by oneself.  One needs feedback, support, inspiration... and, after all, a writer needs readers!  One should write for the sake of writing, but that writing's written for somebody to read.

I've come across a few good places to find feedback for my writing.  Yes, blogging's alright, but it's tough to find wide readership if it's thrown out for the general internet population to happen upon.  But, if work is put out for a narrower audience odds are someone's more likely to find it and appreciate it.

Way back when I discovered the writing site ficlets.  The idea was to craft story bits, or just smaller writing pieces, between 64 and 1024 characters in length.  It doesn't seem like a sufficient length to do anything significant, but it was impressive what people could conjure.  The following is an old piece of mine:

Sigh.

It felt like only yesterday that we met.
Something just seemed to click.
We had the same sense of humor, could understand each other’s quirks.
I can’t recall when I’ve had such interesting conversation with someone (who is not related to me, that is).
(Then again, there are all those other similarities, so there is that possibility.)

Alas…

Alack…

There is so much we can’t see.

Words can only go so far, you know.

I’ve never seen your face.
I’ve never heard your laugh.
I’ve never seen a smile grace your lips.

We’re separated by an unseen barrier of time.
A wall of space.
A web of wires.

But I guess that’s what the imagination is for, isn’t it?

I can only guess what you look like.
What you sound like.
And you can do the same about me.
Our friendship linked by words.
If only we could finally meet.
If only to be friends.

But for now, as I type, I’ve decided:
For now, I can let my imagination satisfy me.

Because that’s what the imagination is for, isn’t it?
http://ficlets.ficly.com/stories/43467

Not only was it amazing what one could do in a short space, but the community was what truly astounded me.  Most folks tried to look out for everyone else, giving feedback and otherwise supporting each other in their writerly endeavors.  We were a very tight-knit community.... until AOL pulled the plug on the site in January of 2009.

One of the original developers of the site, Kevin Lawver, resurrected the idea in a new independent site, ficly.  It's essentially the same idea, very short pieces, and again with some old ficlets vets and new recruits it's up and thriving.

In the interim between ficlets' death and ficly's birth I discovered Protagonize, a similar community without the character limit.  It was intimidating at first, but after a slightly bumpy start I got right into it and I haven't looked back.  The folks are great, the pieces are good, it's overall been a great experience.

Most recently, however, I've discovered the awesomeness that is local feedback.  I've found a good support group in two friends from my English class and my physics teacher, of all people, who're all working on some project or other.  We've deemed ourselves The Fellowship, and thus far I'd say we've been working very well together.  We're looking over each others' projects, offering feedback on those projects, and overall support.  We'll see if we can still work with three of us slightly sprawling at different schools next year.

Basically, I've found that while the actual act of writing's fairly solitary, the surrounding processes of support and communication shouldn't be so.  Sounding boards are great.

Back to Basics

Alright, so I've gone back to the first background I ever used for this blog, with the intention of probably updating it.

We'll see how that goes, though.

Why Can't We Compromise

Why must we choose one way or the other?
Why can’t we compromise?
What if someone is torn between choices?
What if that person can’t decide?


Why must we choose one way or the other?
Why can’t we compromise?
Should (s)he not decide at all?
But what if (s)he wants to make a difference?


http://www.flickr.com/photos/44124372363@N01/2226577438/

Why must we choose one way or the other?
Why can’t we compromise?
Why must it be just “circle” or just “rectangle,”
If one equally agrees with both?
What if one is for the arch of the circle,
But also the straight path of the rectangle?


Why must we choose one way or the other?
Why can’t we compromise?
Why can’t there,
just for once,
be an oval?
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -
I rediscovered this little piece in my ficlets memorial, originally here.

Blankity Blankity Blank

So: one of the handful of blogs I follow, my sweet old etcetera, does a fill-in-the-blank every Friday (which the blogger, the wonderful Annie Cristina, gets from a different blog with which I'm not familiar), and this week's intrigued me, seeing as it's about books.

I thought I'd share my answers:

1. My favorite book growing up was Zebra's Hiccups by David McKee. I think it might've been that my dad did the voices and fake hiccups very well.

2. The funniest book I've ever read was probably The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, as in the first one. Maybe it's because it's more recent, but that was the first book to make me laugh so hard that I actually had to put it down in a very, very long time. Such is life for an English student, most books of "literary merit" aren't particularly uplifting.

3. The one book that truly changed my life was Les Miserables. I don't know what it was, but there was just something about that book that really struck me.

4. If you're looking for a real "tear-jerker" you should probably read... Elie Wisel's Night, perhaps? I don't know, it certainly struck me hard. I don't really go looking for tear-jerking books all that often; the works we read for class are often depressing enough.

5. If I could meet any author living or dead I would want to meet either Roald Dahl or Mark Twain. Both are among my favorite authors, and I'd like to know how they wrote what they did; both just seem like interesting folks!

6. The next book on my "to read" list is a tough call. I'm deciding between 1984, Manhunt (on the Lincoln assassination), Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, and perhaps poking around some graphic novels. One thing's for sure: if I keep up with reading this summer I'll definitely be frequenting the library... well, frequently.

7. If I was snowed into remote cabin in the woods and could only choose three books to bring with me I'd bring Hamlet, The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and the unabridged Les Miserables. Hamlet would be interesting to look through a few times from different angles; The Ultimate Guide because, well, how else am I going to bring all five Hitchhiker's books?? And Les Mis because I like the way Hugo writes, it just takes a long time to digest. And, at well over 1500 pages, depending on the publisher, it is long, man.