These days, my mind is just bursting with thoughts. If I wanted to, I could write at least 20 entries right now, on 20 different topics, and let it all out. But I'll settle for just one...or maybe two.
First of all, cheating. This is a sort of premeditated rant that I've dumped on several poor people already...and lately, it's bugging me more than ever. I have more free time these days, so I've been reading a lot and watching a lot of dramas. And it really seems to me that a LARGE majority of fictional relationships end with one (or both) of the individuals cheating on the other. I am certainly NOT trivializing the pain of being cheated on; thanks to the Lord it has never happened to me, so I can't properly sympathize with the situation. I also simply cannot understand the concept of cheating in the first place--of even considering loving more than one person simultaneously. It's incomprehensible, at least so far in my life. I don't mean to say, "If one of the people cheats, it wasn't real love or a real relationship," because I'm in no position to make that judgement. However! As an observer, I do think I'm in a position to say, please can we have a different story once in a while? From soap operas to great literature, from 90210 and Friends ("We were on a break!") to Wuthering Heights and Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina (what an annoying woman), it's ALWAYS down to someone not being faithful. And as someone who is watching these stories unfold--whether the plot is superbly crafted or cliche/recycled--I'm automatically disappointed and even disinterested when the cheating begins. The characters lose validity, and the story line loses appeal. I was watching "Smash" (a new drama on NBC, it's pretty good) yesterday night, and when people started cheating on each other, I just thought, "Really? This again?" Yes, it's sad, and maybe I'm part of a minority that cannot connect to this sort of experience...but if I EVER abandon music and go into writing, like screenwriting or something, I will try to shed some light on other reasons people break up. Because there are many, and they can be just as heartbreaking, just as memorable, just as powerful--if not more.
A huge percentage of art/entertainment is about love...this being said, creativity is vital. Please, I beg of you...
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Happiness
If happiness is like a bright and wandering bird, appearing one unexpected moment and gone the next, it has been a lovely and faithful companion these past two days. From sitting in a circle singing Bach chorales, to reading Haydn and Mozart and Beethoven quartets into the wee hours of the night; from provoking ridiculously fat squirrels who make angry bird sounds when agitated, to totally surprising myself by buying a ruffly floral mini-skirt at French Connection...life has been good.
I spent today primarily with three fantastic people. With the one in the morning, I admit it took a while for me to recognize what a special girl this is...now that I know, I look forward to every moment we spend together, even if it's just walking home from school. It actually puzzles me when, like a ray of sunshine, I suddenly realize how great someone is. This doesn't happen often, because usually friendship is like cooking--whether it's a slow marinating meat or a five-minute grilled cheese, there is always an observable process. Camaraderie and a close bond don't just appear out of thin air for me. But once in a blue moon, I'll meet someone, think they're okay for four years, and then all of a sudden, see them in a whole different light. It was sort of like that moment when you're in the shower and, like a bolt of lightning, you randomly realize what the last word in your crossword puzzle is, and you're like "YES!!!" That's how I felt when I really became friends with this girl. It was awesome.
The one in the afternoon, I've known for quite a while. Since he's new to Boston, I took him through the usual tour I give visitors--down Newbury, around Boston Common, back up Boylston, and conveniently ending at Legal Seafood (where he, being the usual infuriating sweetheart, refused to let me pay). It was lovely, one of those times spent with old friends who never change...there's never a dull moment with a quirky companion who is basically the embodiment of Weird Jennifer times ten. At one point, he told me he was considering changing majors (from classical performance), and I thought maybe he was interested in jazz or something, but no--what he had in mind was becoming a sushi chef. Ha! So great.
And the one in the evening is my concert-going buddy of three years, and one of those Mark-Zuckerberg-type geniuses who tend to talk faster than I can think, except completely minus the ego. Another example of a totally unique and interesting individual, but in his own subtle and quiet way. It just confirms my suspicion, that the people I gravitate toward tend to be the ones who are truly one-of-a-kind, once-in-a-blue-moon types, but who aren't aware of it, and who don't hit you head-on with their specialness and uniqueness.
As a musician, I tend to meet a lot of eccentric personalities who are Different with a capital D. You know it, they know it, the world knows it, and the minute they walk into a room, it's obvious they're Different and proud of it. That's cool and admirable, but definitely not my type.
On a separate note, tonight I watched a fantastic rendition of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. It's obviously an epic piece that never fails to activate your dopamine neurons and get that blood pumping. Watching it performed at such a high level made me want like CRAZY to play in an orchestra for the rest of my life. With music like this, how can it get any better? It also reminded me of when NEC played it two years ago (see September 2010 entry entitled "What Feels Good"). I went rummaging around Instant Encore to find the live recording. There's no doubt that we rushed, and we certainly don't play with the same flawless beauty or precision as the BSO...but I think we had ten times the energy, and twenty times the fun.
Here's the last movement:
Dreams of a Witch's Sabbath
Is that cheer at the end not worthy of a Red Sox game or a Linsanity buzzer beater? It's so great--not because it shows we were good, but because it shows we made the audience happy. :)
I spent today primarily with three fantastic people. With the one in the morning, I admit it took a while for me to recognize what a special girl this is...now that I know, I look forward to every moment we spend together, even if it's just walking home from school. It actually puzzles me when, like a ray of sunshine, I suddenly realize how great someone is. This doesn't happen often, because usually friendship is like cooking--whether it's a slow marinating meat or a five-minute grilled cheese, there is always an observable process. Camaraderie and a close bond don't just appear out of thin air for me. But once in a blue moon, I'll meet someone, think they're okay for four years, and then all of a sudden, see them in a whole different light. It was sort of like that moment when you're in the shower and, like a bolt of lightning, you randomly realize what the last word in your crossword puzzle is, and you're like "YES!!!" That's how I felt when I really became friends with this girl. It was awesome.
The one in the afternoon, I've known for quite a while. Since he's new to Boston, I took him through the usual tour I give visitors--down Newbury, around Boston Common, back up Boylston, and conveniently ending at Legal Seafood (where he, being the usual infuriating sweetheart, refused to let me pay). It was lovely, one of those times spent with old friends who never change...there's never a dull moment with a quirky companion who is basically the embodiment of Weird Jennifer times ten. At one point, he told me he was considering changing majors (from classical performance), and I thought maybe he was interested in jazz or something, but no--what he had in mind was becoming a sushi chef. Ha! So great.
And the one in the evening is my concert-going buddy of three years, and one of those Mark-Zuckerberg-type geniuses who tend to talk faster than I can think, except completely minus the ego. Another example of a totally unique and interesting individual, but in his own subtle and quiet way. It just confirms my suspicion, that the people I gravitate toward tend to be the ones who are truly one-of-a-kind, once-in-a-blue-moon types, but who aren't aware of it, and who don't hit you head-on with their specialness and uniqueness.
As a musician, I tend to meet a lot of eccentric personalities who are Different with a capital D. You know it, they know it, the world knows it, and the minute they walk into a room, it's obvious they're Different and proud of it. That's cool and admirable, but definitely not my type.
On a separate note, tonight I watched a fantastic rendition of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. It's obviously an epic piece that never fails to activate your dopamine neurons and get that blood pumping. Watching it performed at such a high level made me want like CRAZY to play in an orchestra for the rest of my life. With music like this, how can it get any better? It also reminded me of when NEC played it two years ago (see September 2010 entry entitled "What Feels Good"). I went rummaging around Instant Encore to find the live recording. There's no doubt that we rushed, and we certainly don't play with the same flawless beauty or precision as the BSO...but I think we had ten times the energy, and twenty times the fun.
Here's the last movement:
Dreams of a Witch's Sabbath
Is that cheer at the end not worthy of a Red Sox game or a Linsanity buzzer beater? It's so great--not because it shows we were good, but because it shows we made the audience happy. :)
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Lady Audley's Secret
Loved this book...
Favorite Quotes:
He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. The one purpose which had slowly grown up in his careless nature until it had become powerful enough to work a change in that very nature, made him what he had never been before--a Christian; conscious of his own weakness; anxious to keep to the strict line of duty; fearful to swerve from the conscientious discharge of the strange task that had been forced upon him; and reliant on a stronger hand than his own to point the way which he was to go.
The snow lay thick and white upon the pleasant country through which he went; and the young barrister had wrapped himself in so many comforters and railway rugs as to appear a perambulating mass of woolen goods rather than a living member of a learned profession.
Haha! Exactly how I feel when I go outside bundled up in countless layers. :)
How fondly we recollect these solitary days of pleasure, and hope for their recurrence, and try to plan the circumstances that made them bright; and arrange, and predestinate, and diplomatise with fate for a renewal of the remembered joy. As if any joy could ever be built up out of such and such constituent parts! As if happiness were not essentially accidental--a bright and wandering bird, utterly irregular in its migration; with us one summer's day, and for ever gone from us the next!
"So he can be in love, after all. That slow lump of torpidity he calls his heart can beat, I suppose, once in a quarter of a century..."
Ouch.
...this pleasant dream floated off into the great storehouse in which the visions of things that never have been and never are to be, are kept locked and guarded by some stern enchanter, who only turns the keys now and then and opens the door of his treasure-house a little way for the brief delight of mankind.
Favorite Quotes:
He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. The one purpose which had slowly grown up in his careless nature until it had become powerful enough to work a change in that very nature, made him what he had never been before--a Christian; conscious of his own weakness; anxious to keep to the strict line of duty; fearful to swerve from the conscientious discharge of the strange task that had been forced upon him; and reliant on a stronger hand than his own to point the way which he was to go.
The snow lay thick and white upon the pleasant country through which he went; and the young barrister had wrapped himself in so many comforters and railway rugs as to appear a perambulating mass of woolen goods rather than a living member of a learned profession.
Haha! Exactly how I feel when I go outside bundled up in countless layers. :)
How fondly we recollect these solitary days of pleasure, and hope for their recurrence, and try to plan the circumstances that made them bright; and arrange, and predestinate, and diplomatise with fate for a renewal of the remembered joy. As if any joy could ever be built up out of such and such constituent parts! As if happiness were not essentially accidental--a bright and wandering bird, utterly irregular in its migration; with us one summer's day, and for ever gone from us the next!
"So he can be in love, after all. That slow lump of torpidity he calls his heart can beat, I suppose, once in a quarter of a century..."
Ouch.
...this pleasant dream floated off into the great storehouse in which the visions of things that never have been and never are to be, are kept locked and guarded by some stern enchanter, who only turns the keys now and then and opens the door of his treasure-house a little way for the brief delight of mankind.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Wuthering Heights
Favorite Quotes:
He took a seat opposite Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him as if she feared he would vanish were she to remove it. He did not raise his to her often; a quick glance now and then sufficed; but it flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from hers.
They [Hindley and Linton] had both been fond husbands, and were both attached to their children; and I could not see how they shouldn't both have taken the same road, for good or evil. But, I thought in my mind, Hindley, with apparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the worse and weaker man. When his ship struck, the captain abandoned his post; and the crew, instead of trying to save her, rushed into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul; he trusted God; and God comforted him. One hoped, and the other despaired: they chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them.
He took a seat opposite Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him as if she feared he would vanish were she to remove it. He did not raise his to her often; a quick glance now and then sufficed; but it flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from hers.
They [Hindley and Linton] had both been fond husbands, and were both attached to their children; and I could not see how they shouldn't both have taken the same road, for good or evil. But, I thought in my mind, Hindley, with apparently the stronger head, has shown himself sadly the worse and weaker man. When his ship struck, the captain abandoned his post; and the crew, instead of trying to save her, rushed into riot and confusion, leaving no hope for their luckless vessel. Linton, on the contrary, displayed the true courage of a loyal and faithful soul; he trusted God; and God comforted him. One hoped, and the other despaired: they chose their own lots, and were righteously doomed to endure them.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Lin-sanity
So inspired, grateful, and heart-warmed to find that such people exist:
http://www.mercurynews.com/jeremy-lin/ci_19954877
Also, not mentioned in this particular article is that he graduated from Harvard, and failed his first license test, because he drove 10 miles under the speed limit.
...Is he looking for a girlfriend??
Just kidding. But seriously.
http://www.mercurynews.com/jeremy-lin/ci_19954877
Also, not mentioned in this particular article is that he graduated from Harvard, and failed his first license test, because he drove 10 miles under the speed limit.
...Is he looking for a girlfriend??
Just kidding. But seriously.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Gaskell's Gothic Tales
Favorite Quotes:
The blooming look of the time of flowers, was past and gone; but instead there were even richer tints abroad in the sun-colored leaves, the lichens, the golden blossomed furze; if it was the time of fading, there was a glory in the decay.
By this time the whole table was silent, listening to the captain; it was just one of those chance silences that sometimes occur, without any apparent reason, and often without any apparent consequence.
She could not choose the right words with which to speak to him of her gratitude and friendliness, which yet could never be any feeling nearer and dearer, no more than two parallel lines can ever meet.
The blooming look of the time of flowers, was past and gone; but instead there were even richer tints abroad in the sun-colored leaves, the lichens, the golden blossomed furze; if it was the time of fading, there was a glory in the decay.
By this time the whole table was silent, listening to the captain; it was just one of those chance silences that sometimes occur, without any apparent reason, and often without any apparent consequence.
She could not choose the right words with which to speak to him of her gratitude and friendliness, which yet could never be any feeling nearer and dearer, no more than two parallel lines can ever meet.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Koreans on Email
Hahahaha this made me laugh so hard:
Jen!!!!!!! I was out of mg mind last few days!! Just finalized my schedule today!!
When do u free?! Since I dont have any audition or smthing I should be flexier than u!!
Here r when i'm free ! Let me know urs too:)
And the message continues. Emailing with J is sort of like Skype-ing with my parents; both make me so happy.
Flexier!!! Hahahahaha...
Jen!!!!!!! I was out of mg mind last few days!! Just finalized my schedule today!!
When do u free?! Since I dont have any audition or smthing I should be flexier than u!!
Here r when i'm free ! Let me know urs too:)
And the message continues. Emailing with J is sort of like Skype-ing with my parents; both make me so happy.
Flexier!!! Hahahahaha...
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
It's one of those days...
where I come home from class, lie down on my bed to "rest my eyes," and wake up 3 hours later. Tired and grumpy, I pick up my violin and play about 2 chords before my A string unravels and breaks with a sad twang.
-_-
Having unwisely lent my spare string to someone, I stared aimlessly/hopelessly out the window for a few minutes before deciding I might as well use this unexpected spare time to write an entry.
Today I had a random flashback to freshman year of high school, 8 years ago. I was sitting in some class, Geometry or Bio or--God forbid--PE, and I started imagining what it would be like if I could create the ideal school for myself. This was before I understood the concept of a conservatory or even seriously considered pursuing a career in music...all I knew was I spent every day in school looking forward to Saturdays, when I'd go to San Francisco and play in youth orchestra. So in this ideal school, a sort of Jennifer Utopia, I made up my own schedule of classes and activities. I even remember writing it down in great detail--I wanted to have orchestra every other day, weekly lessons, quartet rehearsals every day, and classes throughout the week about music theory and musicology. And maybe throw in a literature class once in a while. At that time, this seemed like the perfect life. I daydreamed about it constantly, while running laps in PE, memorizing the 7 basic economic principles in Econ, doing labs in Chem, having Socratic seminars in English...
I hated high school, but not because I disliked learning. I LOVE learning, and I always have. I just wanted to learn about music SO much more than than I wanted to learn about other stuff, and the more I realized this, the more "regular" high school seemed like a waste of time.
Well, today it hit me that I am now living the Jennifer Utopia about which I had fantasized so long. Practically verbatim, in fact. I have orchestra every other day (although in a perfect world, rehearsals would not be at 9am...hence my spontaneous naps). I have lessons, I can go to free concerts practically any night of the week, I'm seeing my quartet almost daily. On Wednesdays, I have a 2-hour interpretive analysis class, which is spent discussing certain composers and works in great detail, and listening to one another perform. Ordinarily, my attention span is woefully short, but during this class I'm rapt from beginning to end. On alternating Thursdays, I meet with a professor and one other student, and we talk about Victorian literature, a new novel every 2 weeks. On Fridays, I have a small class for score-reading, which teaches us how to play multiple parts of a score (say, all 4 voices of a quartet) on the piano--a skill I've wanted to acquire for a long, long time. This all may sound boring, but it's what I wanted most, back then. While other teenagers perhaps dreamed about prom, Ivy League schools, making the Varsity basketball team, or med school, I dreamed about this...the life I have now.
Of course, now that I've got it, I have new dreams, hopefully which will also pan out, when the time is right. But it is important to remember how lucky I am at this moment, without looking ahead constantly.
I also realize I should have made more of my high school education, truly learning the things I was taught rather than breezing by on last-minute studying, short-term memory, and luck. There are so many occasions now when I wish I remembered "that thing I learned back in high school." Knowledge of any kind can only make me stronger. I should have figured this out in high school, and maybe I wouldn't have scorned it so much. If I had to be there whether I liked it or not, I might as well have tried my best.
I guess if 14-year old Jennifer somehow appeared in my room right now, complete with Paris sweatshirt, purple braces, and Care Bear watch, she and I would both have some good lessons to teach each other.
-_-
Having unwisely lent my spare string to someone, I stared aimlessly/hopelessly out the window for a few minutes before deciding I might as well use this unexpected spare time to write an entry.
Today I had a random flashback to freshman year of high school, 8 years ago. I was sitting in some class, Geometry or Bio or--God forbid--PE, and I started imagining what it would be like if I could create the ideal school for myself. This was before I understood the concept of a conservatory or even seriously considered pursuing a career in music...all I knew was I spent every day in school looking forward to Saturdays, when I'd go to San Francisco and play in youth orchestra. So in this ideal school, a sort of Jennifer Utopia, I made up my own schedule of classes and activities. I even remember writing it down in great detail--I wanted to have orchestra every other day, weekly lessons, quartet rehearsals every day, and classes throughout the week about music theory and musicology. And maybe throw in a literature class once in a while. At that time, this seemed like the perfect life. I daydreamed about it constantly, while running laps in PE, memorizing the 7 basic economic principles in Econ, doing labs in Chem, having Socratic seminars in English...
I hated high school, but not because I disliked learning. I LOVE learning, and I always have. I just wanted to learn about music SO much more than than I wanted to learn about other stuff, and the more I realized this, the more "regular" high school seemed like a waste of time.
Well, today it hit me that I am now living the Jennifer Utopia about which I had fantasized so long. Practically verbatim, in fact. I have orchestra every other day (although in a perfect world, rehearsals would not be at 9am...hence my spontaneous naps). I have lessons, I can go to free concerts practically any night of the week, I'm seeing my quartet almost daily. On Wednesdays, I have a 2-hour interpretive analysis class, which is spent discussing certain composers and works in great detail, and listening to one another perform. Ordinarily, my attention span is woefully short, but during this class I'm rapt from beginning to end. On alternating Thursdays, I meet with a professor and one other student, and we talk about Victorian literature, a new novel every 2 weeks. On Fridays, I have a small class for score-reading, which teaches us how to play multiple parts of a score (say, all 4 voices of a quartet) on the piano--a skill I've wanted to acquire for a long, long time. This all may sound boring, but it's what I wanted most, back then. While other teenagers perhaps dreamed about prom, Ivy League schools, making the Varsity basketball team, or med school, I dreamed about this...the life I have now.
Of course, now that I've got it, I have new dreams, hopefully which will also pan out, when the time is right. But it is important to remember how lucky I am at this moment, without looking ahead constantly.
I also realize I should have made more of my high school education, truly learning the things I was taught rather than breezing by on last-minute studying, short-term memory, and luck. There are so many occasions now when I wish I remembered "that thing I learned back in high school." Knowledge of any kind can only make me stronger. I should have figured this out in high school, and maybe I wouldn't have scorned it so much. If I had to be there whether I liked it or not, I might as well have tried my best.
I guess if 14-year old Jennifer somehow appeared in my room right now, complete with Paris sweatshirt, purple braces, and Care Bear watch, she and I would both have some good lessons to teach each other.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Bronte
The writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master--something that at times strangely wills and works for itself...Be the work grim or glorious, dread or divine, you have little choice left but quiescent adoption. As for you--the nominal artist--your share in it has been to work passively under dictates you neither delivered nor could question--that would not be uttered at your prayer, nor suppressed nor changed at your caprice. If the result be attractive, the World will praise you, who little deserve praise; if it be repulsive, the same World will blame you, who almost as little deserve blame.
-Charlotte Bronte's preface to the 1850 edition of her sister Emily Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights
-Charlotte Bronte's preface to the 1850 edition of her sister Emily Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights
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