A Tumblr Post

...meaning, posting a picture/video/link, writing a few words underneath ("lol," "exactly," and/or "<3"), and calling it a blog entry. I could potentially go on for a couple paragraphs on any of these (unrelated) things, but there's too much to share, and no time or need to elaborate, for the most part.

1) First of all, my favorite:

HAHAHA!!! Not making a statement on my political views, but just saying as an unbiased observer, this is absolutely hilarious. Seriously, every time I watch it, I just laugh even harder.

2) 
Gave me a good laugh when I saw it this morning. Based on http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-edinburgh-east-fife-16023328.

3) Award-winning pizza made by the cutest happiest old man. :)

Imagine being the best at something so simple, yet so appreciated--making pizza--for 50 years. He doesn't even use oven mitts, he just takes the pizza out of the oven with his bare hands...haha! More at http://www.domdemarcos.com/story.html. DiFara's pizza...when you eat it, you won't be able to stop smiling.

4) Love, love me doe:  http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/12/06/chinese-zoo-at-a-loss-what-to-do-when-a-deer-and-a-ram-fall-in-love/ :)

5) Cool beyond words:

*** One more:

V showed me this at her house recently...I have NO idea why, but we watched it over and over, gasping for breath amid hysterical laughter. I share it in the hopes that the two of us weren't totally crazy, and other saner people find it funny too.

Heebie-Jeebies

Just my nerdy thought of the day, which is that classical music, not often associated with horror or the shivers, can be downright terrifying sometimes. Top 3 scariest pieces I've encountered thus far are:
1) Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin--not the orchestral suite, which I think is a kind of lame abridged version (sorry, Bartok!) since it ends halfway before the story is through and leaves out some of the best/scariest parts, but the entire work. Even if you don't know that the piece is about a prostitute who lures three men, the last of which stares at her with green glowing eyes and is unable to be killed (despite being stabbed and beaten and hung from a chandelier) until she has sex with him, it's enough to scare the pants off any listener with proper senses. Especially the end, when his wounds begin to bleed and he finally dies...holy crap.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyvFDdYM-rU (27:00-end is the worst.)
2) Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire. The first time I heard this piece, I had to leave the concert hall, it was that upsetting...and that was before I read the poems it's based on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veUJxETj7-c
3) Berg's Wozzeck. The WORST! Induces fright that would make The Exorcist proud...I refuse to listen to the last scene of this opera alone. Wozzeck has killed his wife with a knife...a bunch of little children including his son find out and run off to see the body...the son is oblivious.
No link, because I'm too scared to find a video of it online and listen to make sure it's a good version. Search for it on your own, if you dare...seriously...it gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Idea 2

Walking along Newbury Street with V, and she says, "I always get caught up in the moment and forget to take pictures. What I need is a video camera strapped on the top of my head at all times."

Haha!! Ingenious!

Post-Recital Joys

***Sunday morning, I was having the breakfast buffet at my family's hotel restaurant...sitting in front of my large plate piled with food, spearing scrambled eggs and sausage onto my fork, when my sister and I had the following profound conversation:
"Jennifer, do you remember our old breakfasts at home, when we were younger, and we'd have scrambled eggs and sausage, or hash browns and sunny side up?"
"Yeah, that was so good! I loved combining the hash browns and sunny side up, that was my favorite!"
"Well, I was just watching you eat your scrambled eggs and sausage, and it reminded me of that. But you know when you combine them, which one do you put on your fork first, the eggs or the sausage?"
"Ohhh, usually I put the egg on first, because it's softer."
"Yeah, if you put the sausage first and then try to get the egg with it, the eggs just fall apart, right?"
"Exactly!"
"But just now I saw you put the sausage on first."
"Well, I was cutting the sausage, and then I accidentally forked it first instead of the eggs, but the eggs still stayed intact!"
"Yeah, I think it's because the eggs here are more solid and sort of glued together."
"Yeahhh, that's the case with most hotel breakfast scrambled eggs, I've realized! They're kind of harder and don't have much flavor and are even kind of plastic-y."
We went on like this for a while. By the time we looked up from our engrossing discussion, both our parents had left the table. :(



Post-Recital Joys:
1) midnight dinner at Legal Seafood
2) bouquets of flowers, tons of color filling my tiny apartment
3) finally listening to Mylo Xyloto
4) catching up with my good old Mei, and morphing comfortably and joyfully back into my true bossy self. :)

Mistakes

One reason I keep journal entries--sometimes it takes a lifetime of learning the same lesson over and over and freaking over again for anything to sink in. Amid a mini-panic attack today while practicing, when I started messing up a lot for no reason and was on the verge of bursting into tears like a baby, a memory came drifting into my head, like a dandelion petal floating lazily just out of fingertip's reach. I jumped to my computer, opened it up to a few years ago, and found this entry, scribbled (well, typed, but in a "scribbling" manner) in a state of post-concert euphoria:


Everything about him glows...he can find joy and wonder in every little phrase, and he can communicate it through his playing like no one else I've seen. He commits to everything, and even when he messes up, his rigor and enthusiasm and life to every note NEVER dies. I remember before our concert, he asked me if I was nervous and I said no, and he said he was nervous, he always gets really nervous for stuff, but he said it helps him play better--he listens really well and does more creative stuff. Then he said, "It also makes me mess up a lot, and Jennifer I know you are not a fan of messing up, but mistakes are part of life, and in the end, who cares." I actually thought about that throughout the concert, and I think hes the one that really set this attitude, this philosophy of, "mistakes happen, so do everything with all you've got, and as long as you've done that, it doesn't matter if you screw up," that made our group successful. Because it's not like you screw up because you're not paying attention or not committing enough. It's that you've committed so much that when a little mistake slips through, as mistakes always do, it simply is nothing compared to how much enthusiasm and love you've conjured for the music. It seems cliche, but his belief really hit home for me that night.

Halloween

If all the college/teenage girls out there put as much determination and dedication into their studies as they did into wearing as strategically little clothing as possible on Halloween, I truly think the world would be a better place. It's been raining all day and started snowing a few hours ago...and they're STILL out there, flouncing and tottering around in their abhorrent miniskirts and fishnet stockings and high heels. Look, I don't think guys will find you attractive when they discover you have frostbite. Furthermore, do you really want the kind of guys who are drawn to you because of what you are (not) wearing?
Sheesh...sometimes, I'm ashamed to be a girl.

Bhutan

http://www.news.com.au/world/bhutans-royal-wedding-how-the-king-proposed-when-she-was-just-seven-years-old/story-e6frfkyi-1226165294876

http://abcnews.go.com/International/bhutan-royal-wedding-commoner-queen/story?id=14727724

Bhutan...a new addition to my list of top 5 ideal vacation spots. Wow.

Cosby Show

Someday, if I get married and start a family, I'm going to have them watch this show...at least the first couple seasons. This is the sweetest, funniest group of people, exactly how I dream for my future husband and kids to be like, and exactly the kind of family I want...somehow, five kids seems like the perfect number when I watch this show. (I am too easily influenced.)
Anyway, it's all on Youtube. Highly, highly recommended.

Sound

For perhaps the first time in my life, I am happy with the way I sound when I play the violin. Some of the time, that is. It's taken me eighteen years to get to this point, so you can imagine how valuable this sense of satisfaction is for me, and how scared I am that it will go away.
I guess loving your sound is like looking in the mirror and loving the way you look, except ten times better, because the way you look is just...well, how you look. You can analyze your appearance and micromanage it as much as you want, but when all is said and done, it can only reveal so much of yourself. Looks have limits, and personally, I don't find the visual aspects of a person to be very interesting. They can deceive, they can hide and be hidden, they can be faked and manipulated and changed altogether. But the kind of sound you produce (if you're a musician)...if reflects not only your physical capabilities and skills on the instrument, but also your personality, your values, and--at the risk of sounding cheesy--your soul. You can't fake sound; it's probably the most honest, intimate expression of yourself that you can share. Hating your sound is like looking in the mirror and hating the way you look, except much much worse. I can say, with some personal experience, that it's a very depressing, insecure feeling.
I'd listen to Francescatti and feel as if I was basking in golden sunlight. I'd listen to Szigeti and imagine myself as a melancholy aged man whose heart was broken years ago. I'd listen to musicians around me at school and smile at how personable and distinguishable each one's sound was--L's pure innocence, Q's bravado and heart, K's openness, B's deep wisdom. Then, I'd listen to myself with dismay and think, "...this is me? There's nothing special here." I felt like I had no personality, that I was as plain and unmemorable as my sound. Then, over the summer, someone told me, "You have a gorgeous sound, but it rarely shows itself. The average listener probably won't catch it." I felt like a frog who finally got the kiss that turned her back into a princess. I told a friend about this incident, and he said, "That makes sense." I asked why, and he answered, "Well, that's sort of how I'd describe your personality."
Loving your sound means finding those special moments when it's really YOU playing, not your nerves or your instrument or even the music...YOU, and then sustaining those moments for as long as possible. If you don't love your sound, I think it means either a) you don't have the physical capability/skills to express yourself effectively, or b) you aren't finding those personal moments and holding onto them. If you are properly expressing yourself with your sound, you have to love it, because when all is said and done, it's YOU--what you believe in, what you find funny or sad or moving, what kind of heart you have--and how can you not love you?

Renoir

I went to the MFA this evening. It's funny how either you can gloss over a bunch of paintings to get a general idea, or you can spend an hour observing each one...there isn't really a middle ground, at least for me.

This is my favorite...I make a stop at this painting every time I'm there (well, I've only gone four times, but still). I don't know anything about art, but I think Renoir must have had a genuinely warm interest in people, and he captured them at their tenderest moments. I could stare at this painting forever. It's one of the most romantic, graceful images I've ever seen, from the tilt of her head, to brushing of her dress on his leg, to his unseen eyes (so obviously fixed on her), to the tip of her shoe peeking out.