Experience teaches us in a millenium what passion teaches us in an hour.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Split Mind
I had a mini-hiatus from my blog, mainly because it's the usual end-of-year craze, heightened by it being the end-of-NEC craze as well, for me...but also because Blogger has a new layout, and I actually could not figure out how to make a new post for a couple days.
In any case, here's Middlemarch Quotes #4 and 5:
Any one watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow preparation of effects from one life on another, which tells like a calculated irony on the indifference or the frozen stare with which we look at our unintroduced neighbor. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her hand.
Strange, that some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our persistent self pauses and awaits us.
It's a testament to how amazing this book is, that it keeps lining up so beautifully with the events of my life, or the series of emotions I experience from day to day.
Often I feel that in my head, there are two Jennifers--one who is self-preserving and who, above all else, avoids regrets...and the other, perhaps more immature version, who sort of runs free in an idealistic, whimsical dreamland. Usually, these two characters are able to compromise and coexist as one unit, so that I remain a somewhat sane/rational human being. But particularly when I encounter the larger turning points of my life, the Sensible and the Wishful in me drift further and further apart. Picture a person walking his dog, and the dog wandering off once in a while in pursuit of a momentary distraction, having to be called back to his master on the straight, safe path. That is sort of the relationship between Wishful Jennifer and Sensible Jennifer, respectively.
Irony can be an overmentioned cliche, but cliches are what they are for a reason. I keep learning how important it is to keep an open mind, because you truly never know what unexpected thing or person from the past will come back to surprise you. As Eliot mentions, any previous indifference or dismissal can turn into something integral--and vice versa. All the while, the bigger road map of our lives unfolds piece by piece.
Sensible Jennifer takes it all in, maintaining that no matter what, everything happens for a reason, and it is all for the best, because I DO believe this. I feel that, in the best and worst of times, we as humans can never claim to wholly understand the events of our lives, nor predict what will happen next. I trust that I am in good hands, and I strive to remember this unconditional belief. Wishful Jennifer, on the other hand, runs amok (took me five tries to spell that word) of her own volition. She peeks around all the corners of What If's, dips her toes into dangerous pools of Should I Have's...she's like the little kid who is scared of a horror movie on TV but can't tear her eyes away... Often before something big, Wishful Jennifer breaks free once in a while to frolic down that (fourth? fifth?) dimension, where all the paths of possibility are before us. Sensible Jennifer yanks the Wishful back, saying sternly, "Just concentrate on doing your best, because you can't control the results, and you don't want to disappoint yourself or psyche yourself out by overthinking."
This also happens AFTER something big, where Wishful Jennifer again succumbs to doubt, and Sensible Jennifer must say, "Hey settle down, you made the right choice."
So this is where my mind is at these days, a constant tug-of-war/goose-chase. If you see me staring off into space with a dazed glaze in my eyes, you'll know what's going on.
In any case, here's Middlemarch Quotes #4 and 5:
Any one watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow preparation of effects from one life on another, which tells like a calculated irony on the indifference or the frozen stare with which we look at our unintroduced neighbor. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her hand.
Strange, that some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our persistent self pauses and awaits us.
It's a testament to how amazing this book is, that it keeps lining up so beautifully with the events of my life, or the series of emotions I experience from day to day.
Often I feel that in my head, there are two Jennifers--one who is self-preserving and who, above all else, avoids regrets...and the other, perhaps more immature version, who sort of runs free in an idealistic, whimsical dreamland. Usually, these two characters are able to compromise and coexist as one unit, so that I remain a somewhat sane/rational human being. But particularly when I encounter the larger turning points of my life, the Sensible and the Wishful in me drift further and further apart. Picture a person walking his dog, and the dog wandering off once in a while in pursuit of a momentary distraction, having to be called back to his master on the straight, safe path. That is sort of the relationship between Wishful Jennifer and Sensible Jennifer, respectively.
Irony can be an overmentioned cliche, but cliches are what they are for a reason. I keep learning how important it is to keep an open mind, because you truly never know what unexpected thing or person from the past will come back to surprise you. As Eliot mentions, any previous indifference or dismissal can turn into something integral--and vice versa. All the while, the bigger road map of our lives unfolds piece by piece.
Sensible Jennifer takes it all in, maintaining that no matter what, everything happens for a reason, and it is all for the best, because I DO believe this. I feel that, in the best and worst of times, we as humans can never claim to wholly understand the events of our lives, nor predict what will happen next. I trust that I am in good hands, and I strive to remember this unconditional belief. Wishful Jennifer, on the other hand, runs amok (took me five tries to spell that word) of her own volition. She peeks around all the corners of What If's, dips her toes into dangerous pools of Should I Have's...she's like the little kid who is scared of a horror movie on TV but can't tear her eyes away... Often before something big, Wishful Jennifer breaks free once in a while to frolic down that (fourth? fifth?) dimension, where all the paths of possibility are before us. Sensible Jennifer yanks the Wishful back, saying sternly, "Just concentrate on doing your best, because you can't control the results, and you don't want to disappoint yourself or psyche yourself out by overthinking."
This also happens AFTER something big, where Wishful Jennifer again succumbs to doubt, and Sensible Jennifer must say, "Hey settle down, you made the right choice."
So this is where my mind is at these days, a constant tug-of-war/goose-chase. If you see me staring off into space with a dazed glaze in my eyes, you'll know what's going on.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Me...
Middlemarch Quote #3: Having the amiable vanity which knits us to those who are fond of us, and disinclines us to those who are indifferent, and also a good grateful nature, the mere idea that a woman had a kindness towards him spun little threads of tenderness from out his heart towards hers.
As reluctant as I am to admit (but as recent events continue to prove), this is TOTALLY ME. And before reading Middlemarch, I could never quite pinpoint or validate it. Reading this sentence feels as if George Eliot is jumping forward some 150 years in time, sitting next to me, taking my hand, and saying with an amused smile, "Trust me, dear...this is you."
As reluctant as I am to admit (but as recent events continue to prove), this is TOTALLY ME. And before reading Middlemarch, I could never quite pinpoint or validate it. Reading this sentence feels as if George Eliot is jumping forward some 150 years in time, sitting next to me, taking my hand, and saying with an amused smile, "Trust me, dear...this is you."
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Remember
Christian or not, I think everyone would do well to remember this story. I know I would.
Early in the morning he [Jesus] came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, "Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?" This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him...as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." ...when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."
John 8:2-11
In addition to the simple yet significant universal truth about humility, mercy, and compassion, there are two factors about this story that, as a Christian, blow my mind.
First, that when Jesus asks, "Has no one condemned you?" we ought to remember that there was one person that day who was free from sin and had every right to judge/accuse/sentence the adulterer, and that was Jesus himself. But instead of doing so, he lets her go; and you may ask, how is this fair? A legitimate religion and morality demands a certain balance between justice and mercy, and you may think: such an act is merciful, but is it just? It is just, because only shortly hereafter, the punishment is served, only in the most unexpected way--with Jesus lying on the cross being condemned in her/our place. So when we pray about our sins now, we ought not to plead for mercy, since we have already been graced with the most incredible mercy conceivable. Rather, we ought to plead for justice.
Which leads me to the second mind-blowing point, in the last sentence above: "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more." Notice the order in which Jesus phrases this. He doesn't say, "Stop sinning, and then I will forgive you." He declares first and foremost his compassion for the woman, regardless of what she has done, or what she may do in the future...her redemption and self-improvement stems from this, not the other way around.
In the same way, we worship and believe, not as an obligation or a task or a way to build ourselves up...but as a reciprocation of the love and life that has already been laid down for us.
Mind-blowing.
Early in the morning he [Jesus] came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, "Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?" This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him...as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." ...when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, Lord." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."
John 8:2-11
In addition to the simple yet significant universal truth about humility, mercy, and compassion, there are two factors about this story that, as a Christian, blow my mind.
First, that when Jesus asks, "Has no one condemned you?" we ought to remember that there was one person that day who was free from sin and had every right to judge/accuse/sentence the adulterer, and that was Jesus himself. But instead of doing so, he lets her go; and you may ask, how is this fair? A legitimate religion and morality demands a certain balance between justice and mercy, and you may think: such an act is merciful, but is it just? It is just, because only shortly hereafter, the punishment is served, only in the most unexpected way--with Jesus lying on the cross being condemned in her/our place. So when we pray about our sins now, we ought not to plead for mercy, since we have already been graced with the most incredible mercy conceivable. Rather, we ought to plead for justice.
Which leads me to the second mind-blowing point, in the last sentence above: "Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more." Notice the order in which Jesus phrases this. He doesn't say, "Stop sinning, and then I will forgive you." He declares first and foremost his compassion for the woman, regardless of what she has done, or what she may do in the future...her redemption and self-improvement stems from this, not the other way around.
In the same way, we worship and believe, not as an obligation or a task or a way to build ourselves up...but as a reciprocation of the love and life that has already been laid down for us.
Mind-blowing.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Art Appreciation
It boggles my mind to recall that a mere five years ago, I was quite adamant about not wanting to have children when I grew up. Nowadays, I'm constantly fantasizing and making mental notes about how I want to raise my future kids, provided this dream comes true. My babies are going to grow up on Disney movies, Haydn, the Cosby Show, and Lemony Snicket books. I'm going to make sure that they keep up with current events...that they learn and remember how to ride a bike (unlike me), and that they learn and remember how to speak Chinese (also, sadly, unlike me).
Last weekend walking through Central Park, H and I started talking about how certain kids are so much more cultured/sophisticated, because their parents brought them up that way. They just know way more than the average person about things like politics, opera, and history...not because they're smarter, but because they were exposed to those things when their brains were new and fresh and young. While their parents perhaps prioritized this sort of knowledge, our parents--having immigrated and sacrificed everything so that we could grow up in the US--prioritized instilling in us this sort of sacrifice. It's not that they are less cultured; they just couldn't afford to be visiting museums and watching operas with us while learning English and working multiple jobs. I feel like when I have kids, I want to combine these two priorities, so that my children learn the basics of working hard and being obedient etc. but also go out and learn as much as possible about the world, rather than staying indoors doing homework or practicing piano all day.
I keep coming across books in particular that I really want to introduce to my kids when they're fairly young. Books like In Memoriam, which I'd like to read with them, a few poems per night or something...just because literature teaches certain invaluable lessons that one often can't identify on one's own. I think being exposed to this stuff early on gives anyone a head start on life, so to speak. While I'm REALLY thankful I'm learning these things now, I do wonder if I maybe would have made past decisions with more maturity and wisdom, if only I had discovered these books earlier on.
Which brings me to--MIDDLEMARCH! Middlemarch, by George Eliot, is one of the best books I have ever read. (It also happens to be one of the longest books I've ever read, but it's worth every one of its 837 fine-print pages.) Usually when I read something noteworthy, I underline/dog-ear my favorite quotes and post them here. However, with Middlemarch, this doesn't seem like a good idea because a) I dog-eared practically every other page, and b) lumping all the quotes together wouldn't give each one the loving attention and admiration it deserves. So I will write about one or two quotes per entry. I will admit that most of the time, thanks to my inherent narcissism, a quote becomes my favorite simply because I can relate to it so perfectly. Once in a while, a passage will strike a beautiful chord within me and express things I've been longing to say, put into better words than I could ever devise. It's as if the author is teaching me about myself. Thus, while writing about these quotes, I'm also essentially writing about myself.
So after this circumlocutory preamble/ramble, here is my favorite quote #1: Art is an old language...sometimes the chief pleasure one gets out of knowing them is the mere sense of knowing.
I spent a good couple hours at the Metropolitan Museum a few days ago. There was only time to really look at one exhibit, called "the Steins Collect" (http://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2012/steins-collect/). We walked through at least ten rooms full of paintings, reading every single placard next to it. By the end, I was exhausted, but I also felt like I could distinguish a Matisse from a Picasso from a Renoir without much trouble, and that was certainly a significant skill gained. I realized that my sense of satisfaction and happiness from that day at the museum wasn't the appreciation of art itself so much as the appreciation of KNOWING about art. To be honest, I probably spent more time reading placards than actually looking at the paintings they described. My understanding of art is at such an elementary level that I need the placards, the way a cripple needs crutches or a toddler needs training wheels. I can still look at a painting and instinctively feel whether I like it or not, appreciating it blindly (so to speak) without knowing why, but that is much less enjoyable to me...it doesn't feel complete, secure, or memorable. It reminded me of how, oftentimes at concerts, I get the sense that the majority of audiences derive pleasure from simply BEING there and knowing what's going on, rather than being moved by the music itself.
I can understand both sides. I just hope that someday I will know enough about art that I can surpass the mere enjoyment of simply knowing about it.
Last weekend walking through Central Park, H and I started talking about how certain kids are so much more cultured/sophisticated, because their parents brought them up that way. They just know way more than the average person about things like politics, opera, and history...not because they're smarter, but because they were exposed to those things when their brains were new and fresh and young. While their parents perhaps prioritized this sort of knowledge, our parents--having immigrated and sacrificed everything so that we could grow up in the US--prioritized instilling in us this sort of sacrifice. It's not that they are less cultured; they just couldn't afford to be visiting museums and watching operas with us while learning English and working multiple jobs. I feel like when I have kids, I want to combine these two priorities, so that my children learn the basics of working hard and being obedient etc. but also go out and learn as much as possible about the world, rather than staying indoors doing homework or practicing piano all day.
I keep coming across books in particular that I really want to introduce to my kids when they're fairly young. Books like In Memoriam, which I'd like to read with them, a few poems per night or something...just because literature teaches certain invaluable lessons that one often can't identify on one's own. I think being exposed to this stuff early on gives anyone a head start on life, so to speak. While I'm REALLY thankful I'm learning these things now, I do wonder if I maybe would have made past decisions with more maturity and wisdom, if only I had discovered these books earlier on.
Which brings me to--MIDDLEMARCH! Middlemarch, by George Eliot, is one of the best books I have ever read. (It also happens to be one of the longest books I've ever read, but it's worth every one of its 837 fine-print pages.) Usually when I read something noteworthy, I underline/dog-ear my favorite quotes and post them here. However, with Middlemarch, this doesn't seem like a good idea because a) I dog-eared practically every other page, and b) lumping all the quotes together wouldn't give each one the loving attention and admiration it deserves. So I will write about one or two quotes per entry. I will admit that most of the time, thanks to my inherent narcissism, a quote becomes my favorite simply because I can relate to it so perfectly. Once in a while, a passage will strike a beautiful chord within me and express things I've been longing to say, put into better words than I could ever devise. It's as if the author is teaching me about myself. Thus, while writing about these quotes, I'm also essentially writing about myself.
So after this circumlocutory preamble/ramble, here is my favorite quote #1: Art is an old language...sometimes the chief pleasure one gets out of knowing them is the mere sense of knowing.
I spent a good couple hours at the Metropolitan Museum a few days ago. There was only time to really look at one exhibit, called "the Steins Collect" (http://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2012/steins-collect/). We walked through at least ten rooms full of paintings, reading every single placard next to it. By the end, I was exhausted, but I also felt like I could distinguish a Matisse from a Picasso from a Renoir without much trouble, and that was certainly a significant skill gained. I realized that my sense of satisfaction and happiness from that day at the museum wasn't the appreciation of art itself so much as the appreciation of KNOWING about art. To be honest, I probably spent more time reading placards than actually looking at the paintings they described. My understanding of art is at such an elementary level that I need the placards, the way a cripple needs crutches or a toddler needs training wheels. I can still look at a painting and instinctively feel whether I like it or not, appreciating it blindly (so to speak) without knowing why, but that is much less enjoyable to me...it doesn't feel complete, secure, or memorable. It reminded me of how, oftentimes at concerts, I get the sense that the majority of audiences derive pleasure from simply BEING there and knowing what's going on, rather than being moved by the music itself.
I can understand both sides. I just hope that someday I will know enough about art that I can surpass the mere enjoyment of simply knowing about it.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Opinions
In the present world of Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, one is constantly bombarded by an overwhelming onslaught of opinions, from best friends and complete strangers alike. While self-expression is generally a good thing, it can also be tiresomely circuitous. Have you noticed that in the aftermath of big events publicized by the internet, people's reactions tend to follow a pattern? For example, when Michael Jackson died, there was the tidal outpouring of grief and tributes. After about a month, that got old, and people got irritated with the mourning. Then people got irritated with the people irritated with the mourning. Same with Whitney Houston. First everyone grieved ("RIP Whitney, we will always love you" etc. etc.). Then people criticized the grievers (
). Then people criticized the critics of the grievers.
And now with the whole Kony business, it's the same old cycle--popularity, criticism, plus the added bonus of a drunk public humiliation tidbit (which I admit I almost shared).
I hate to say this, but sometimes I get tired of everyone expressing their opinions all the time. When I unconsciously scroll down to video comments on Youtube, I'm constantly appalled at how unnecessarily crude, pointless, or plain stupid they can be. What on EARTH would compel an individual to expend their energy by typing such things, to be seen by the entire world? Obviously some comments are great (I have yet to read a bad comment on TED.com particularly). But in general, it's pretty depressing.
I watched the Kony video a few weeks ago, and it was sad. But a tiny part of me wasn't convinced...maybe it was something in the speaker's voice, or the way they chose to present their claim, or the claim itself...that didn't seem completely genuine. Of course, it's a cause worthy of attention, like most causes in this world. And of course I love Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston and Etta James and other celebrities whose deaths garnered widespread lamentation. But I think that before we publicize our opinions on such things, we should stop and think...is it really worth sharing? Can we get the same satisfaction by just telling ourselves and/or our friends?
I was saying this all to C, and he was like, "Jennifer, if reading other people's comments annoys you, why don't you just stop reading other people's comments?" And I was like, "...oh."
So I've stopped reading my Facebook news feed, at least for now. And I gotta say, it's pretty nice.
). Then people criticized the critics of the grievers.And now with the whole Kony business, it's the same old cycle--popularity, criticism, plus the added bonus of a drunk public humiliation tidbit (which I admit I almost shared).
I hate to say this, but sometimes I get tired of everyone expressing their opinions all the time. When I unconsciously scroll down to video comments on Youtube, I'm constantly appalled at how unnecessarily crude, pointless, or plain stupid they can be. What on EARTH would compel an individual to expend their energy by typing such things, to be seen by the entire world? Obviously some comments are great (I have yet to read a bad comment on TED.com particularly). But in general, it's pretty depressing.
I watched the Kony video a few weeks ago, and it was sad. But a tiny part of me wasn't convinced...maybe it was something in the speaker's voice, or the way they chose to present their claim, or the claim itself...that didn't seem completely genuine. Of course, it's a cause worthy of attention, like most causes in this world. And of course I love Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston and Etta James and other celebrities whose deaths garnered widespread lamentation. But I think that before we publicize our opinions on such things, we should stop and think...is it really worth sharing? Can we get the same satisfaction by just telling ourselves and/or our friends?
I was saying this all to C, and he was like, "Jennifer, if reading other people's comments annoys you, why don't you just stop reading other people's comments?" And I was like, "...oh."
So I've stopped reading my Facebook news feed, at least for now. And I gotta say, it's pretty nice.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Something I've Noticed...
When someone gives me disappointing news, no matter who it is and what it's about, at that moment I become solely preoccupied with acting okay about it. This could be for several reasons: a) I don't want people around me to feel uncomfortable, b) I want to preserve my pride, and c) I want to convince myself that I'm okay. Whatever it is, I've noticed that I don't have an honest reaction until a while later, usually when I'm by myself thinking and/or writing. That's when I finally decide whether I actually AM okay with it or not, and how to deal with it. I wouldn't say this nonchalant facade I assume upon initial disappointment is fake, necessarily...even though it only happens when I am around other people (I don't pretend I'm okay when I get disappointing news by myself). Partially it's an automatic habit, and partially I really DO want to be okay with it, especially if I'm around people who would really worry about me, or if the bad news comes in the form of an apology/confession (e.g. Person: I did something bad yesterday etc. etc. Me: I see, yeah it's fine"). My brain tries to skip carelessly past the issue, which might make things easier in the moment, but certainly makes things harder for me when I am re-confronted with the issue, later and on my own.
Does anyone else do this?
Does anyone else do this?
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Cheating
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...
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...
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.
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