Dear Journal,
Today was another splendid day with Jennifer. Jennifer is my leader, sister, and best friend. She makes me very HAPPY! In the morning, I came out of my crate and Rolled Over on the carpet. I like to pretend the carpet is grass and leave my scent all over it. Sometimes Jennifer laughs at me, and that makes me HAPPY! When she smiles or laughs, my heart feels warm and my tail wags.
Then we went downstairs. I ran QUICKLY to demonstrate how strong and athletic I am. I am a super fast dog!!! Jennifer ate breakfast and looked at her bright rectangular screen. She calls it her laptop. She looks at her laptop a lot, and it makes her laugh and cry. Sometimes Jennifer's friends appear in the laptop and talk for a long time. I don't understand how they got inside there, and I become very confused and tilt my head.
After breakfast, we went outside for morning patrol. I spotted three squirrels in sector 9, but I only barked once, because Jennifer does not like me to bark. She says "no Eliot" and "that's rude" in a low voice. She does not know that squirrels are EVIL and plotting to take over the world. I have to protect her by scaring them off with loud and manly barks!
Jennifer gave me 5 treats before she left for work. I was very HAPPY to eat them!!! After I finished, I remembered that Jennifer left, and I cried for a while.
Then I went to the back door and looked out into the distance. I thought about the important, overarching questions of life Jennifer often asks me. "Should we go for a walk?" "How was your day?" And most of all, the question people ask me whenever they come over: "Who's a good boy?" These are wonderments and issues I ponder when I am alone. Who is a good boy? Will I ever find out?
After that, I chewed my peanut butter bone, and I was very productive. Then I was tired, so I slept on the couch. When the sky became dark, I heard sounds outside that mean: JENNIFER IS BACK! Every time she returns, I greet her at the door with my task of the day. Today I brought her my peanut butter bone, and she was very impressed. I am a super good chewer!!! I stared carefully at her face to figure out her mood. Her eyes were tired and happy, which means she had a good day!
Jennifer put her things down, and I hugged her for a long time. Then she sat on the floor. I Rolled Over so she could pet my tummy. It felt GOOD!!! I like to put my Paw on her shoulder. I also Sat very straight, crossed my arms, and held my head high so she could scratch my neck. I am a very dignified and handsome dog.
Then, Jennifer wanted to play. She threw several of my toys (including the fuzzy ball) around the room. This is strange. She wants me to bring the toys to her, but why does she throw them away in the first place? I am training her to stop this habit by ignoring her when she throws things. She is improving slowly. My favorite game is Hide and Seek. I am super good at it!!!
During evening patrol, there were no squirrels, but I saw one cat and two small humans in sector 4. I marked 16 rocks, bushes, and fire hydrants. Jennifer collected my poop in a bag.
After we returned, I was tired and wished we could go to bed. But I waited several hours for Jennifer to finish her tasks. I am a very patient dog. I Sit close to her and stare at her face. That way, I know what she is feeling. This is very important, because my task is to protect Jennifer and make her happy.
Tonight, Jennifer's laptop made music. I am a sophisticated dog and enjoy music. I love Bartok, Elgar, and Beyonce. When I hear these songs, I Sit straight up and focus very hard. Sometimes Jennifer and I make music together. She plays violin, and I sing. I am a very loud singer, because I am very passionate!!!
I took a nap until Jennifer said, "Let's go upstairs." I ran QUICKLY upstairs to the bedroom. I am a super fast dog!!! I grabbed my teddy bear and flung it into the air, to demonstrate how strong I am!!!
While Jennifer took a shower, I went into my crate. It is very warm and smells like me. Ever since my first day living with Jennifer, I slept in this crate. Before that, I lived in another crate in a different building, with no blankets or toys. I had dog friends, but I did not have a human to protect or love. I was very confused and empty, because I had no job or name. Because of Jennifer, now I know my name is Eliot! My job is to protect and love Jennifer! My whole life is Jennifer. And I know I am cute, smart, and the Best Dog, because Jennifer tells me that every day. I am so lucky!!!
After Jennifer got into bed, our room became dark and I fell asleep. I had many lovely dreams about playing and snuggling with Jennifer.
Love, Eliot
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Friday, November 13, 2015
Running for Newbies
Last year I wrote an entry about buying a property for the first time, with suggestions/tips for prospective homeowners as clueless as me, and I got feedback (even from strangers) that it was a helpful read. So this year, I thought I'd share my experience of running a half-marathon, for those who have never done a running event but might consider trying. Actually, the time period for both activities were quite similar--I looked at houses for about 2.5 months before picking one and closing, and I trained for about 9 weeks before marathon day. Ensuing stress and necessary courage to follow through on both occasions were also comparable.
My rather meager running history began in middle school PE, where I remember doing something called the 20-minute run (basically everyone ran around the field nonstop for 20 minutes), and it was nothing short of torture. After finishing my required PE credits in high school, the only running I ever did was away from bugs or toward food. During college, I joined the YMCA next to school because they had individual TV's on their treadmills. Once in a while, I'd run outdoors along the Charles River or through Boston Common because it was super pretty...also, as far as I know, running is the cheapest and quickest way to stay in shape.
After moving to Michigan, 4 miles was the length of my basic run. The thing is, like a typical older child, I'm kind of competitive. My competitiveness toward other people can be curbed, especially when it's obvious they're better than me, but competitiveness toward myself often gets out of hand. Basically if I do an activity more than once, it's SUPER important that I improve each time...I don't know why, that's just how my brain works. Last spring, Detroiters were blessed with one week of unbelievably perfect weather, and deciding to make the most of it, I went on daily runs and increased a mile each time, so by the end of the week, I had reached 8. Experienced runners say this is rare, to jump from 4 to 8 miles in 5 days, but I had no idea...I was simply so happy to be outside and so determined to get better. Unfortunately, the next week I sprained my ankle and couldn't run for several months. During that period of rest, I told a friend about my random burst of exercise, and she said seriously, "If you can run 8 miles, you can do a marathon!" (Apparently the starting length for a beginner's training program is 8 miles.) That got me thinking...was it possible that someone like me could actually run a marathon???
Eventually I forgot about it, especially since it took forever for my ankle to heal, and I hadn't run in ages. In late July, I heard about a fundraising organization partnering with the Detroit marathon to provide clean water for impoverished people in Africa. It seemed like a sign, and after a LOT of wavering and nail-biting, I finally signed up for the fundraiser and a half-marathon (it was too late to start training for a full).
For those who want to train but don't run regularly, the beginning will be brutal. There's a phase when you get endlessly multiplying blisters, and a phase when you're just so friggin sore all the time. Both seem like they'll never end, but they do eventually subside. The first pair of shoes I bought didn't fit correctly, so I got jogger's toe (aka subungual hematoma, where one of your toenails turns reddish-black/purple from excess contact with the front of your shoe). It's a bit scary if you've never seen it before, but after a few days, it shouldn't hurt, and as long as you keep it clean and switch shoes, you're fine. As the length of your runs increases, you'll encounter other issues, like chafing on the inside of your thighs if you wear shorts, and having to carry water on your runs. A handheld water bottle with a pouch for a phone (from REI) worked for me because I don't mind holding something while running, but most people get some sort of belt with waterbottle-holders.
It's good to refer to training schedules online, but in the end, just observe your body and adjust accordingly. I wouldn't recommend purchasing a schedule or following one exactly unless you have NO clue what to do. A lot of schedules are too time-consuming, in my opinion. After the first few weeks, I figured out what my body was capable of and made my own schedule based on that. I'm a big proponent of more effort/less time regarding exercise, so I only ran 2-3 times a week (1-2 short runs, 1 long run). Short runs=3 miles, long runs=anything more. My prep went something like this:
Week 1= 3 mi. + 5 mi. + 3 mi.
Week 2= 3 mi. + 6 mi. + 3 mi.
Week 3= 3 mi. + 7 mi.
Week 4= 3 mi. + 8 mi.
Week 5= 3 mi. + 9 mi.
Week 6= 3 mi. + 10 mi.
Week 7= 3 mi. + 11 mi.
Week 8= 3 mi. + 9 mi.
Week 9= 3 mi. + 5 mi. + 3 mi.
I'm not advocating this plan, but it worked for me. I figured out the minimum amount of short runs I needed to get through a long run later that week. If you run too often, you'll be too tired for a good long run, but if you don't run enough, your body can't handle the sudden long stretch. By the way, you're not "supposed" to do the full length of a marathon until the day of the event. This is very antithetical to musical training, with all the dress rehearsals, run-throughs etc. But somehow it worked; never underestimate the power of adrenaline.
A few tips that helped me-
1) After every run, soak your feet in lukewarm water. It feels good and washes away sweat/dirt ASAP. I also had minty cream that I put on my feet/ankles after showering.
2) Focus on one goal at a time. First I simply concentrated on surviving each long run. Then it was increasing my pace during short runs. Then it was running earlier in the morning (marathon starts at 7am, with arrival time around 5:30am).
3) Find out app. what temperature it'll be on the day of your event and run at least once in similar conditions, in the clothes you plan to wear.
4) Compile a good playlist. Unless you're one of those superhuman runners who don't need music, this makes ALL the difference. Some of my favorites:
Beat It/ Michael Jackson
Don't Stop Till You Get Enough/ Michael Jackson
Mambo/ Tropkillaz
Baby Baby/ Tropkillaz
Run The World/ Beyonce
Krazy/ Pitbull
The Anthem/ Pitbull
Move Shake Drop/ Pitbull
Live It Up/ JLo, Pitbull
I Feel Good/ James Brown (Fatboy Slim remix)
Uptown Funk 8-)
On To The Next One/ Jay-Z
Get Loose/ T.I., Nelly
You Can Do It/ Ice Cube
B.O.B/ Outkast
Shots/ Lil Jon, LMFAO
Sexy Back/ Justin Timberlake (Drastik remix)
Turn Down For What/ DJ Snake, Lil Jon
Most of these songs I don't like at all unless I'm exercising. Like "Shots"...the lyrics are despicable! But if I tune out the words, it's actually quite a good song. (Weirdly enough, I do the same thing to enjoy opera/lieder, although that's because the lyrics are in another language.)
5) Having a cause/charity to run for is key. I don't think I could've gotten through those 9 weeks with only myself as motivation. But with every selfless donation, every kind word of encouragement, and every individual I was able to help, I gained energy and purpose and joy (!) to run a little bit faster/longer. :)
My rather meager running history began in middle school PE, where I remember doing something called the 20-minute run (basically everyone ran around the field nonstop for 20 minutes), and it was nothing short of torture. After finishing my required PE credits in high school, the only running I ever did was away from bugs or toward food. During college, I joined the YMCA next to school because they had individual TV's on their treadmills. Once in a while, I'd run outdoors along the Charles River or through Boston Common because it was super pretty...also, as far as I know, running is the cheapest and quickest way to stay in shape.
After moving to Michigan, 4 miles was the length of my basic run. The thing is, like a typical older child, I'm kind of competitive. My competitiveness toward other people can be curbed, especially when it's obvious they're better than me, but competitiveness toward myself often gets out of hand. Basically if I do an activity more than once, it's SUPER important that I improve each time...I don't know why, that's just how my brain works. Last spring, Detroiters were blessed with one week of unbelievably perfect weather, and deciding to make the most of it, I went on daily runs and increased a mile each time, so by the end of the week, I had reached 8. Experienced runners say this is rare, to jump from 4 to 8 miles in 5 days, but I had no idea...I was simply so happy to be outside and so determined to get better. Unfortunately, the next week I sprained my ankle and couldn't run for several months. During that period of rest, I told a friend about my random burst of exercise, and she said seriously, "If you can run 8 miles, you can do a marathon!" (Apparently the starting length for a beginner's training program is 8 miles.) That got me thinking...was it possible that someone like me could actually run a marathon???
Eventually I forgot about it, especially since it took forever for my ankle to heal, and I hadn't run in ages. In late July, I heard about a fundraising organization partnering with the Detroit marathon to provide clean water for impoverished people in Africa. It seemed like a sign, and after a LOT of wavering and nail-biting, I finally signed up for the fundraiser and a half-marathon (it was too late to start training for a full).
For those who want to train but don't run regularly, the beginning will be brutal. There's a phase when you get endlessly multiplying blisters, and a phase when you're just so friggin sore all the time. Both seem like they'll never end, but they do eventually subside. The first pair of shoes I bought didn't fit correctly, so I got jogger's toe (aka subungual hematoma, where one of your toenails turns reddish-black/purple from excess contact with the front of your shoe). It's a bit scary if you've never seen it before, but after a few days, it shouldn't hurt, and as long as you keep it clean and switch shoes, you're fine. As the length of your runs increases, you'll encounter other issues, like chafing on the inside of your thighs if you wear shorts, and having to carry water on your runs. A handheld water bottle with a pouch for a phone (from REI) worked for me because I don't mind holding something while running, but most people get some sort of belt with waterbottle-holders.
It's good to refer to training schedules online, but in the end, just observe your body and adjust accordingly. I wouldn't recommend purchasing a schedule or following one exactly unless you have NO clue what to do. A lot of schedules are too time-consuming, in my opinion. After the first few weeks, I figured out what my body was capable of and made my own schedule based on that. I'm a big proponent of more effort/less time regarding exercise, so I only ran 2-3 times a week (1-2 short runs, 1 long run). Short runs=3 miles, long runs=anything more. My prep went something like this:
Week 1= 3 mi. + 5 mi. + 3 mi.
Week 2= 3 mi. + 6 mi. + 3 mi.
Week 3= 3 mi. + 7 mi.
Week 4= 3 mi. + 8 mi.
Week 5= 3 mi. + 9 mi.
Week 6= 3 mi. + 10 mi.
Week 7= 3 mi. + 11 mi.
Week 8= 3 mi. + 9 mi.
Week 9= 3 mi. + 5 mi. + 3 mi.
I'm not advocating this plan, but it worked for me. I figured out the minimum amount of short runs I needed to get through a long run later that week. If you run too often, you'll be too tired for a good long run, but if you don't run enough, your body can't handle the sudden long stretch. By the way, you're not "supposed" to do the full length of a marathon until the day of the event. This is very antithetical to musical training, with all the dress rehearsals, run-throughs etc. But somehow it worked; never underestimate the power of adrenaline.
A few tips that helped me-
1) After every run, soak your feet in lukewarm water. It feels good and washes away sweat/dirt ASAP. I also had minty cream that I put on my feet/ankles after showering.
2) Focus on one goal at a time. First I simply concentrated on surviving each long run. Then it was increasing my pace during short runs. Then it was running earlier in the morning (marathon starts at 7am, with arrival time around 5:30am).
3) Find out app. what temperature it'll be on the day of your event and run at least once in similar conditions, in the clothes you plan to wear.
4) Compile a good playlist. Unless you're one of those superhuman runners who don't need music, this makes ALL the difference. Some of my favorites:
Beat It/ Michael Jackson
Don't Stop Till You Get Enough/ Michael Jackson
Mambo/ Tropkillaz
Baby Baby/ Tropkillaz
Run The World/ Beyonce
Krazy/ Pitbull
The Anthem/ Pitbull
Move Shake Drop/ Pitbull
Live It Up/ JLo, Pitbull
I Feel Good/ James Brown (Fatboy Slim remix)
Uptown Funk 8-)
On To The Next One/ Jay-Z
Get Loose/ T.I., Nelly
You Can Do It/ Ice Cube
B.O.B/ Outkast
Shots/ Lil Jon, LMFAO
Sexy Back/ Justin Timberlake (Drastik remix)
Turn Down For What/ DJ Snake, Lil Jon
Most of these songs I don't like at all unless I'm exercising. Like "Shots"...the lyrics are despicable! But if I tune out the words, it's actually quite a good song. (Weirdly enough, I do the same thing to enjoy opera/lieder, although that's because the lyrics are in another language.)
5) Having a cause/charity to run for is key. I don't think I could've gotten through those 9 weeks with only myself as motivation. But with every selfless donation, every kind word of encouragement, and every individual I was able to help, I gained energy and purpose and joy (!) to run a little bit faster/longer. :)
Friday, April 24, 2015
Little Women
This is the best book I've read in a while, so I couldn't resist making an entry of literary quotes. I think the best works of art/entertainment are simple, free of pretentiousness, and from the heart.
She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty.
Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety; it shows itself in acts, rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or protestations.
Beth...clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself.
"Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again; the happy old times can't come back, and we mustn't expect it. We are man and woman now...I'm sure you feel this; I see the change in you, and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives, won't we, Laurie?"
He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them both.
"I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world!"
She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty.
Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety; it shows itself in acts, rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or protestations.
Beth...clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself.
"Teddy, we never can be boy and girl again; the happy old times can't come back, and we mustn't expect it. We are man and woman now...I'm sure you feel this; I see the change in you, and you'll find it in me. I shall miss my boy, but I shall love the man as much, and admire him more, because he means to be what I hoped he would. We can't be little playmates any longer, but we will be brother and sister, to love and help one another all our lives, won't we, Laurie?"
He did not say a word, but took the hand she offered him, and laid his face down on it for a minute, feeling that out of the grave of a boyish passion there had risen a beautiful, strong friendship to bless them both.
"I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world!"
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Too Much Tchaikovsky
For the past three weeks, DSO performed twelve concerts of all Tchaikovsky--six symphonies, three piano concertos, Swan Lake, Romeo and Juliet, and various other overtures/concertos etc. On the first day, we "rehearsed" three symphonies in four hours. In retrospect it's kind of funny, but during that moment I wanted to travel back in time and punch Tchaikovsky in the face. (Just kidding. But seriously.)
After a while, I started noticing some upsetting changes in my behavior. Most of the time, I remained my usual self--simple-minded Jennifer, frequently confused and prone to excessive laughter. But as the Tchaikovsky marathon forged on, I found myself becoming increasingly oversensitive. I shed tears of joy when the Warriors beat the Spurs (FINALLY), bawled during every Ellen commercial where she gives stuff away (I wouldn't even know the back story, I'd just watch her presenting giant checks to overwhelmed audience members and burst into tears)...and I legitimately cried at least three times while having lunch with a friend last week. To be fair, she was telling me a very dramatic story, but still. It's been embarrassing and exhausting.
Even worse, I began developing an alter ego in my head, with some strange compulsions:
1) To spend hours in front of the mirror, loathing myself and lamenting countless regrets
2) To complain in run-on sentences (while secretly relishing the sound of my voice and the sheer drama of dissatisfaction/misery)
3) To march around majestically, wearing a huge fur coat and carrying a scepter
4) To don a gown in the style of Disney princesses and waltz gracefully around a fancy ballroom
5) To sneak outside and tiptoe through the snow in my pajamas to visit the Sugar Plum Fairy
6) To relive those high school days of star-crossed young love and bemoan the tragic dichotomy between perfect unadulterated affection and bad timing
7) To drown my sorrows (and the frigid weather) in vodka
8) To try over and over AND OVER to approach my lover and confess my feelings, but losing confidence every time and retreating back to my small dark corner of despondent heartache
Thank goodness the Tchaikovsky festival ended today, before I lost all sanity and jumped off a cliff or something.
In all seriousness, overlooking his flaws as a composer (and probably as a person), the strongest impression Tchaikovsky made on me during these last few weeks is how sad he must have been, and how sorry I feel for him. Anyone who writes such music must have experienced despair to the depths of which I cannot even fathom, let alone endure.
Poor guy.
(And yet, 1812 Overture always succeeds in making me less sympathetic toward him.)
After a while, I started noticing some upsetting changes in my behavior. Most of the time, I remained my usual self--simple-minded Jennifer, frequently confused and prone to excessive laughter. But as the Tchaikovsky marathon forged on, I found myself becoming increasingly oversensitive. I shed tears of joy when the Warriors beat the Spurs (FINALLY), bawled during every Ellen commercial where she gives stuff away (I wouldn't even know the back story, I'd just watch her presenting giant checks to overwhelmed audience members and burst into tears)...and I legitimately cried at least three times while having lunch with a friend last week. To be fair, she was telling me a very dramatic story, but still. It's been embarrassing and exhausting.
Even worse, I began developing an alter ego in my head, with some strange compulsions:
1) To spend hours in front of the mirror, loathing myself and lamenting countless regrets
2) To complain in run-on sentences (while secretly relishing the sound of my voice and the sheer drama of dissatisfaction/misery)
3) To march around majestically, wearing a huge fur coat and carrying a scepter
4) To don a gown in the style of Disney princesses and waltz gracefully around a fancy ballroom
5) To sneak outside and tiptoe through the snow in my pajamas to visit the Sugar Plum Fairy
6) To relive those high school days of star-crossed young love and bemoan the tragic dichotomy between perfect unadulterated affection and bad timing
7) To drown my sorrows (and the frigid weather) in vodka
8) To try over and over AND OVER to approach my lover and confess my feelings, but losing confidence every time and retreating back to my small dark corner of despondent heartache
Thank goodness the Tchaikovsky festival ended today, before I lost all sanity and jumped off a cliff or something.
In all seriousness, overlooking his flaws as a composer (and probably as a person), the strongest impression Tchaikovsky made on me during these last few weeks is how sad he must have been, and how sorry I feel for him. Anyone who writes such music must have experienced despair to the depths of which I cannot even fathom, let alone endure.
Poor guy.
(And yet, 1812 Overture always succeeds in making me less sympathetic toward him.)
Thursday, January 29, 2015
TBT
Earlier this month, I was chatting with a colleague backstage before a concert, and he mentioned that he's been in the orchestra since 1966. After the concert in which we played Beethoven 7 (a piece that's VERY familiar...even if you've just heard it for the first time, it will feel familiar by the end...), we were putting away our instruments, and he burst out, "Isn't that the most amazing symphony!" Then he proceeded to enthusiastically describe all his favorite parts of the piece. And I thought: After half a century of playing in the DSO, during which he's probably performed Beethoven 7 a hundred times, he's still proclaiming how much he loves it, with the sincerity and gusto of a child discovering it for the first time.
That reminded me of a moment last year, when the same person and I bumped into each other during break after rehearsing Beethoven 5 (if possible, an even more familiar and often-performed work). I was in a pretty good mood, and when he asked how I was doing, I couldn't help exclaiming that I LOVE Beethoven 5. Then I added something like, "I'm not crazy about the conductor, but I'm just going to enjoy the music." He smiled at me like I'd won the lottery, patted me on the back, and said, "That's the key."
Which in turn reminded me of an entry I wrote in here about five years ago...
September 30, 2010
What Feels Good
If I made a Top-10 list of the things that make me feel good, somewhere near the top would be playing a great concert. Tonight was the first NEC orchestra concert of the year, and it felt good. First of all, Jordan Hall was literally full to the brim...I counted maybe five or six empty seats. Second of all, it was like a football stadium, with all the cheering and roaring, even before we played a note. But most of all, the energy generated in each piece was so tangible and present, like a ball of fire coming from the players, being spread to every corner of the hall, and bouncing off the audience back to us. It's a kind of energy you only get from "youth" orchestras...this wide-eyed, passionate, even overzealous eagerness to share the music. I like to look around when I'm playing in orchestra, and these are some of my favorite snapshots: a man in the front row with his eyes closed and a smile stretching across his face the entire time; the kid next to him with a huge afro nodding along to the music as if it were rap or heavy metal; a wave of string players with their faces and bodies swaying to a whirlwind of sound; and little smiles between stand partners.
Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself how amazing it is to be able to produce sound. I've been playing violin for so long, it's easy to take this luxury for granted, but just think--with your two hands, you can create a medium of expression encapsulating ideas that have spanned centuries. Out of your instrument can come sounds that draw the darkest secrets and strongest feelings from deep within a listener's mind. And into your instrument can pour all the emotions and experiences that have been stored in your body after a lifetime of living...it's a miracle, really, if you think about it.
If, by divine will, I am able to do such a thing for the rest of my life...well, I pray I will never ever take it for granted.
Monday, January 12, 2015
My New BFF
Meet Eliot!
He is a three-year-old border collie I recently adopted from a nearby animal hospital. Our meeting was a stroke of luck, because I had actually visited the hospital to consider a different dog. When that didn't work out, several other dogs were brought over to meet me, and Eliot was the last of the bunch. (His original name at the hospital was Mr. Bones, but I was like "uh no" and he never responded to it anyway.) Immediately when he entered, he was a little beam of sunshine, taking a speedy sniff around the perimeter of the room before promptly coming over to greet me with a big goofy smile.
After two days, I got to bring him home, and I named him Eliot after my favorite author (George Eliot). Eliot is, for the most part, a mature and sophisticated dog. He is a gentleman, chivalrously pausing before every doorway so I can enter first. When we go on walks, he slows down every few steps to glance up at me and make sure I'm still there. He also generally follows me everywhere, even if he's sleeping and I'm just walking a few steps to get a tissue (I've been sick)...he'll spring up and accompany me to the tissue box and back before returning to his nap.
He has some weird feline characteristics...for instance, he's really good at that thing cats do where they rub up against you with an arched back while passing by. If I'm sitting on the ground, he'll do a twisting motion and land face-up in my lap with his paws curved elegantly in the air. Sometimes if we make meaningful eye contact for a length of time, or if I stand next to him petting him for over a minute, he becomes overwhelmed with emotion and stands on his hind legs to give me a hug. It's not like a normal dog jumping up to greet you--his front paws actually wrap around my waist, he rests his head on my stomach, and he stays in that position for a long time.
While he's usually pretty gentle and serene, he has his call-of-the-wild moments when he becomes very excited and enjoys jumping up and doing twists in mid-air. Eliot is also very smart, and I think he has a lot of potential, especially since border collies are indisputably declared the most intelligent breed of dogs. (I signed him up for training classes, so we'll see how that goes.) He started recognizing his new name on his first day home, and he learned "paw" after only three tries...maybe he had learned it long ago with a previous owner, but even so, he recalled it really quickly. He also does this thing where he holds a ball in his mouth and thrusts it so it goes bouncing across the room. Then he'll sit and stare at me with an expectant look on his face until I bring the ball back to him. I stopped playing this with him though, because I realized it's kind of demeaning to be fetching balls for my own dog.
One of the best things about Eliot is that he actually enjoys taking medicine. He's had to take pills and liquid medicine the past few days, and he's so cooperative...he's also very accommodating when we're about to go outside. He sits at my feet and waits for me to put on all my outerwear, and then gives me his paw to hold while I'm attaching his leash. I'm not quite sure why he's always giving me his paw, but it's very cute. :)
Apparently the animal hospital where I met Eliot rescued him from another shelter, where he was listed as "urgent" (about to be put down). I'm almost positive that Eliot had at least one former owner, since he's so well-behaved, and I'm guessing he was surrendered because he's quite high-maintenance. Border collies require a lot of attention and mental stimulation, and not many people can handle that. I probably didn't choose the most easygoing breed for my first dog, but our personalities are matching pretty well so far, and he's teaching me many things, most notably unwavering patience for all things good and ready/joyful forgiveness for all things bad.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Growing Up
The other day I was skimming Jeremy Lin's blog, and it reminded me that I have a blog too and should update it at least once before the year ends. On a side note, the more I learn about Jeremy Lin, the more I'm convinced he's my soul mate. He plays songs from The Lion King on his keyboard, doesn't like vegetables, and included my favorite Bible verse in one of his posts. Be still my heart!
Last October, I wrote an entry describing the process of buying a car. Who would've known that a year later, I'd write an entry describing the process of buying a property? Here's the random/destined sequence of events that led to this important decision: break up with boyfriend >> decide to get a dog >> decide to rescue a dog >> some dog shelters won't let you adopt unless you're a homeowner >> decide to become a homeowner. In August, I was researching dog shelters and told my mom, "It's so frustrating that some shelters don't let you adopt unless you're a homeowner." She replied, "Well, if I were you, I'd buy a condo." "Really?" "Yeah." ".....Okay!" Three months later, I closed on my first property.
I watch a lot of HGTV, so I thought I was pretty prepared for the buying process. HGTV supplies important information, like how to prioritize your must-haves, how to negotiate, and what issues are easy fixes (floors) versus nightmares (black mold). But you know at the end of those house-hunting shows when the buyer's offer is accepted, everyone celebrates, and then they skip to three months later or whatever when everyone's all moved in? I'd like a show about what happens during the time frame they skip, because that was most difficult/confusing for me.
So this is how it went down. First I figured out what cities/neighborhoods I preferred, noobed around on Zillow to get a general idea, found an agent I trusted, and started looking at different units. Originally I thought I'd like to live in Royal Oak, because it's closer to work and has more young people...but after a while, I realized that choosing a top school district could make reselling my place way easier in the future, so I stuck with Troy. After about a month, I made an offer on a place, but it didn't work out. When you're negotiating with a seller, it's important to make sure the seller isn't crazy or sketchy. In most cases, you're not going to talk to the seller directly, but from their actions and the terms with which they negotiate, you can sort of figure them out. If they seem desperate to sell and insist on selling the place "as is," or if they're super stubborn and refuse to compromise on something perfectly reasonable, it's probably a bad sign. Trouble early on will likely escalate throughout the closing process (which takes longer than you'd think). It's simpler and wiser to walk away unless you're desperate to buy, and I'd never recommend house-hunting in a limited time frame unless there's no other choice. So I kept looking and about one month later, I made an offer on another place. After a bit of negotiating, I got a satisfactory price and hired an inspector, read the bylaws for the condo association, and applied for a mortgage.
An inspector is almost as important as an agent...find someone you trust, preferably with reliable references. A condo differs from a house in that you technically only own the inside of your building. The condo association maintains the exterior, like grass and snow removal etc. and you maintain the interior. Older condos are similar to townhouses in that each unit has its own space, separate from the neighbors. Newer condos in this area are more like apartment buildings, where your floor plan overlaps with your neighbors', so your bedroom might be on top of their living room, which is on top of your garage etc. The newer condos seem nice and look cool, but personally if I own a property, I'd rather not be dependent on neighbors (for example, if they had a leak that damaged one of my walls and caused mold or something). Applying for a mortgage is complicated, and it's the part I understand the least, because of all the numbers/math... Basically the goal is to get as low an interest rate as possible; a higher rate can be offset by a point system, which can be a good option depending on how long you envision staying in that property. Make sure there are no pre-pay penalties or hidden fees--there are always going to be ridiculous fees required for no justifiable reason, but make sure that they are the standard ridiculous fees, not unknown ridiculous fees in addition to the standard ones. It also helps to have a mortgage agent you trust.
It takes a long time for the mortgage to be approved, and it felt longer to me than the house-hunting process, because at least with house-hunting I was busy and somewhat in control of the progress. With the mortgage, I was submitting papers and materials, but I had no idea what they were being used for or how long it would take. During that time, the title company (a third party that sort of oversees the process and provides documentation for the property) does an appraisal of the property. Here's a suspicion of mine that not many people may realize--sometimes the title company purposely appraises the property as close to your offer price as possible. The comps they reference in the report are skewed in a way to make you think you got a great deal. In mine, they only included comps that sold for higher than my offer price...but if you look at official records, there were plenty of recent comps that sold for lower, which they neglected to include. It wasn't a huge deal for me, so I didn't bother to contest it. But if every dollar matters and you feel this same suspicion when buying a place, it may be worth looking into.
Something else I learned during the closing process is that agents are humans, not machines...they make mistakes, they get emotional, and sometimes they are manipulative. If an agent, whether yours or the seller's, does something strange that makes you feel guilty or uncomfortable, don't accept it. Your agent should never pressure you into buying a place, and the seller's agent should never directly contact you at all. I didn't have a problem with my agent, so I don't have advice for that except not to hire them if they're untrustworthy... But I do have advice if the seller's agent does something out of line: if it doesn't directly concern you, stay out of it and let your agent deal with it, because that's his/her job. If the seller's agent makes false accusations against you specifically, it may be wise to calmly/briefly refute them in a written record. Not only will it protect you in case the issue comes up again, but it also shows you weren't born yesterday and are not willing to be pushed around.
Finally, there's the closing date, when everyone--seller, buyer, agents, title company, mortgage company, friends and family if you wish--comes together to sign papers and hand over the down payment. You realize that the names you kept seeing on the forms and using during negotiations are actually connected to human beings with lives and personalities...and you also sign a TON of papers. Be prepared for awkwardness...it's inevitable. But if you're lucky, you'll talk to the sellers about the property, which can be invaluable...and at the end of the day, you'll have a new home (along with a substantially diminished savings account and an intimidating ever-growing to-do list).
I never imagined I'd buy my own place a) at this age and b) by myself. On HGTV, the buyers are usually young couples who just got married or are planning to have kids...and my agent told me I'm the youngest client she's ever had. It wasn't like I needed to buy a place; I could easily have found a satisfactory apartment. But besides for wanting a dog, I chose to buy instead of rent because factors like location, the housing market, and my financial status were in my favor. Houses in this area are pretty inexpensive, and although it costs a little extra to fix up the house and maintain it well, it'll be worth it when I resell or rent it out in the future...whereas with an apartment or rental property, I'd just be paying money without investing in anything. And it's a good learning experience at this point in my life, when I can really concentrate without the distraction of kids or job-hunting etc. If you're not interested in buying a place at all, this entry was probably super boring. But if you are considering it and want to know more, I hope it was helpful! There are plenty of websites with suggestions for the house-hunting/purchasing process, but maybe there are a few beneficial things here that you won't find anywhere else. :)
Last October, I wrote an entry describing the process of buying a car. Who would've known that a year later, I'd write an entry describing the process of buying a property? Here's the random/destined sequence of events that led to this important decision: break up with boyfriend >> decide to get a dog >> decide to rescue a dog >> some dog shelters won't let you adopt unless you're a homeowner >> decide to become a homeowner. In August, I was researching dog shelters and told my mom, "It's so frustrating that some shelters don't let you adopt unless you're a homeowner." She replied, "Well, if I were you, I'd buy a condo." "Really?" "Yeah." ".....Okay!" Three months later, I closed on my first property.
I watch a lot of HGTV, so I thought I was pretty prepared for the buying process. HGTV supplies important information, like how to prioritize your must-haves, how to negotiate, and what issues are easy fixes (floors) versus nightmares (black mold). But you know at the end of those house-hunting shows when the buyer's offer is accepted, everyone celebrates, and then they skip to three months later or whatever when everyone's all moved in? I'd like a show about what happens during the time frame they skip, because that was most difficult/confusing for me.
So this is how it went down. First I figured out what cities/neighborhoods I preferred, noobed around on Zillow to get a general idea, found an agent I trusted, and started looking at different units. Originally I thought I'd like to live in Royal Oak, because it's closer to work and has more young people...but after a while, I realized that choosing a top school district could make reselling my place way easier in the future, so I stuck with Troy. After about a month, I made an offer on a place, but it didn't work out. When you're negotiating with a seller, it's important to make sure the seller isn't crazy or sketchy. In most cases, you're not going to talk to the seller directly, but from their actions and the terms with which they negotiate, you can sort of figure them out. If they seem desperate to sell and insist on selling the place "as is," or if they're super stubborn and refuse to compromise on something perfectly reasonable, it's probably a bad sign. Trouble early on will likely escalate throughout the closing process (which takes longer than you'd think). It's simpler and wiser to walk away unless you're desperate to buy, and I'd never recommend house-hunting in a limited time frame unless there's no other choice. So I kept looking and about one month later, I made an offer on another place. After a bit of negotiating, I got a satisfactory price and hired an inspector, read the bylaws for the condo association, and applied for a mortgage.
An inspector is almost as important as an agent...find someone you trust, preferably with reliable references. A condo differs from a house in that you technically only own the inside of your building. The condo association maintains the exterior, like grass and snow removal etc. and you maintain the interior. Older condos are similar to townhouses in that each unit has its own space, separate from the neighbors. Newer condos in this area are more like apartment buildings, where your floor plan overlaps with your neighbors', so your bedroom might be on top of their living room, which is on top of your garage etc. The newer condos seem nice and look cool, but personally if I own a property, I'd rather not be dependent on neighbors (for example, if they had a leak that damaged one of my walls and caused mold or something). Applying for a mortgage is complicated, and it's the part I understand the least, because of all the numbers/math... Basically the goal is to get as low an interest rate as possible; a higher rate can be offset by a point system, which can be a good option depending on how long you envision staying in that property. Make sure there are no pre-pay penalties or hidden fees--there are always going to be ridiculous fees required for no justifiable reason, but make sure that they are the standard ridiculous fees, not unknown ridiculous fees in addition to the standard ones. It also helps to have a mortgage agent you trust.
It takes a long time for the mortgage to be approved, and it felt longer to me than the house-hunting process, because at least with house-hunting I was busy and somewhat in control of the progress. With the mortgage, I was submitting papers and materials, but I had no idea what they were being used for or how long it would take. During that time, the title company (a third party that sort of oversees the process and provides documentation for the property) does an appraisal of the property. Here's a suspicion of mine that not many people may realize--sometimes the title company purposely appraises the property as close to your offer price as possible. The comps they reference in the report are skewed in a way to make you think you got a great deal. In mine, they only included comps that sold for higher than my offer price...but if you look at official records, there were plenty of recent comps that sold for lower, which they neglected to include. It wasn't a huge deal for me, so I didn't bother to contest it. But if every dollar matters and you feel this same suspicion when buying a place, it may be worth looking into.
Something else I learned during the closing process is that agents are humans, not machines...they make mistakes, they get emotional, and sometimes they are manipulative. If an agent, whether yours or the seller's, does something strange that makes you feel guilty or uncomfortable, don't accept it. Your agent should never pressure you into buying a place, and the seller's agent should never directly contact you at all. I didn't have a problem with my agent, so I don't have advice for that except not to hire them if they're untrustworthy... But I do have advice if the seller's agent does something out of line: if it doesn't directly concern you, stay out of it and let your agent deal with it, because that's his/her job. If the seller's agent makes false accusations against you specifically, it may be wise to calmly/briefly refute them in a written record. Not only will it protect you in case the issue comes up again, but it also shows you weren't born yesterday and are not willing to be pushed around.
Finally, there's the closing date, when everyone--seller, buyer, agents, title company, mortgage company, friends and family if you wish--comes together to sign papers and hand over the down payment. You realize that the names you kept seeing on the forms and using during negotiations are actually connected to human beings with lives and personalities...and you also sign a TON of papers. Be prepared for awkwardness...it's inevitable. But if you're lucky, you'll talk to the sellers about the property, which can be invaluable...and at the end of the day, you'll have a new home (along with a substantially diminished savings account and an intimidating ever-growing to-do list).
I never imagined I'd buy my own place a) at this age and b) by myself. On HGTV, the buyers are usually young couples who just got married or are planning to have kids...and my agent told me I'm the youngest client she's ever had. It wasn't like I needed to buy a place; I could easily have found a satisfactory apartment. But besides for wanting a dog, I chose to buy instead of rent because factors like location, the housing market, and my financial status were in my favor. Houses in this area are pretty inexpensive, and although it costs a little extra to fix up the house and maintain it well, it'll be worth it when I resell or rent it out in the future...whereas with an apartment or rental property, I'd just be paying money without investing in anything. And it's a good learning experience at this point in my life, when I can really concentrate without the distraction of kids or job-hunting etc. If you're not interested in buying a place at all, this entry was probably super boring. But if you are considering it and want to know more, I hope it was helpful! There are plenty of websites with suggestions for the house-hunting/purchasing process, but maybe there are a few beneficial things here that you won't find anywhere else. :)
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Guilt
In a linguistics class I took for two weeks at Rice U (before sheepishly yet wisely dropping it), I learned that in the most primitive human language, only three emotions were designated words. The first two emotions were predictably "happy" and "angry," but the third surprised me--"guilty." I wasn't able to understand this until something weird and random happened today.
There is an intersection on my way home from work where, during daytime and decent weather, I almost always see a homeless man. I've started recognizing faces, because it's usually the same couple people who take turns standing there. There are two general types of homeless people--loud and crazy ones that make a scene or try to approach you, and sad quiet ones with downcast eyes that mutely hold up their signs. The first type scares me, but the latter breaks my heart. And there's something about seeing the same person consistently suffering, that makes it more unforgettable.
I was taught by my parents never to give money to homeless people, because you don't know what they'll spend it on. Over winter break, I tried to learn knitting, because I thought maybe I could knit scarves for these people, giving them something more useful and meaningful than spare change. Sadly, my knitting progress has been very slow...I completed about half a scarf, and then I ran out of yarn and couldn't find the same color... (I do hope that I can finish this scarf at least by next winter.) A few weeks ago, I remembered this idea a couple people at NEC had, where we'd make sandwiches and go around giving them to homeless people. It was one of the best things I've ever been involved in, so recently I've been bringing an extra sandwich to work every day that we have lunch break. For some reason, each time I did that, there was nobody at the intersection when I was driving home, so I just ended up eating both sandwiches...
Then, this morning we had a concert. On Friday morning concerts, there are usually free donuts in the musicians' lounge, and oftentimes that is the highlight of my week, especially when they have my favorite kind (plain and glazed). Today there were three giant baskets of donuts left over after the concert, so I went into pig mode and ate two, saving a third for later. (On a side note, yesterday I took an online quiz called "What Is Your Spirit Animal?" and asked S what he guessed my result was. Without hesitation, he said, "Pig." At least he's honest, but the real result was "Bear.") Later as I drove toward the aforementioned intersection, I saw one of the homeless guys there, and I suddenly thought, "Wait, I have an extra donut! I can give that to him!" I hadn't touched it, and hopefully he wouldn't think it was rude...I mean, whenever someone gives me a free donut, I'm elated. Timing was perfect, so that the traffic light was red and I was stopped about eight feet away from him.
For reasons absolutely incomprehensible to me, I froze. All I could do was look at him, and I swear we made really long eye contact while my heart raced and palms sweated. I stared his cardboard sign, which said the usual things--homeless, anything will help, God bless...I stared at his dirty clothes and grey hair, and I stared at his vacant defeated eyes. The seconds ticked by, the traffic light turned green, and before I knew it, the moment had passed, I'd failed to act, and was driving past him.
Why did I do that???
It wasn't like I had nothing to offer, it wasn't like I was too far away, or it was a green light and people were honking at me, or that he seemed dangerous or sketchy, or that I had doubts about helping him. It would have been so easy for me to just roll down my window, hand him the food, smile, and drive away. But instead I did nothing, and I have NO IDEA why.
On the highway, I kept picturing his face in my mind, remembering how he leaned on a cane, and how the tattered cardboard sign hung limply from his grasp, and with each new detail recalled to his image, I felt worse. I wanted to cry, and when I called my mom on speaker phone to tell her what happened, I did cry. She was totally bewildered as I blubbered and sniffled. "Are you driving right now?" she asked incredulously, and when I said yes, she was all, "Are you crazy? You shouldn't be thinking about this while you're driving. If you want to feel bad, wait until you're safely home!" She asked if something else had gone wrong, and I answered that no, I'd had a perfectly good day up until then. After I calmed down, she told me, "Sometimes it's nice to help someone, but if you don't, it's okay too." She said the government should be fixing this problem, not me, and if nobody gives to these people, maybe they'll find better alternatives to improve their situation. They shouldn't be encouraged to rely on charity. Also, she said it's dangerous to interact with possibly unstable people, especially while driving.
After we hung up, I was still distracted and sad. I missed my highway exit, and it took an extra ten or fifteen minutes to get home.
It's stupid and simply weird/anomalous for me to feel SO guilty over such a little thing...in general, I'm a pretty practical person who has her emotions in check. But I guess when it comes to helping the less fortunate, I don't think there's ever a "little" thing, because you never know what tiny act of kindness could change someone else's life. It's not like handing that man a tasty dessert would have drastically altered his circumstance or prevented him from going hungry ever again, but maybe it would have lifted his spirits. I had an opportunity to do good, yet I didn't, and I just don't understand why.
Guilt is a complicated and fascinating phenomenon...in a way, it's self-centered, because we're thinking about ourselves and our own shame/faults/flaws. At the same time, it connects us to things outside of ourselves and demonstrates our innate morality, the ability to define an objective right and wrong. To me, this is an ultimate proof of a supreme being, because where does morality come from, if not Him? Even the most primitive humans identified guilt, knowing evil is wrong and good is right.
Another thing about guilt is, it's sneaky--you don't know how powerful it is until it hits you. I'm writing about guilt, but I don't even really know what it feels like on a larger scale. To me, guilt means cruel words that escaped my mouth when I was angry, forgetting about God in an obsession over myself, not helping others when I had the chance, and other stuff that's private. And if I were to draw a pie chart of all the emotions I've felt in my life, I'd say yeah, guilt consists of app. one-third, because it's unforgettable...it stays with me no matter what. I can't imagine how torturous guilt from more lasting/impacting crimes must be.
I suppose some people are more sensitive to guilt than others, and there are those few infamous figures that appear(ed) to feel barely any guilt at all, no matter how deplorable their actions. Still, I think it affects us all, whether or not we are open about it. To err is human, and with erring comes guilt...but the beautiful silver lining of guilt shows that despite how inexplicably, bizarrely, perversely, or foolishly wrong humans can be, the little spark of light that is our desire to be good shines on.
There is an intersection on my way home from work where, during daytime and decent weather, I almost always see a homeless man. I've started recognizing faces, because it's usually the same couple people who take turns standing there. There are two general types of homeless people--loud and crazy ones that make a scene or try to approach you, and sad quiet ones with downcast eyes that mutely hold up their signs. The first type scares me, but the latter breaks my heart. And there's something about seeing the same person consistently suffering, that makes it more unforgettable.
I was taught by my parents never to give money to homeless people, because you don't know what they'll spend it on. Over winter break, I tried to learn knitting, because I thought maybe I could knit scarves for these people, giving them something more useful and meaningful than spare change. Sadly, my knitting progress has been very slow...I completed about half a scarf, and then I ran out of yarn and couldn't find the same color... (I do hope that I can finish this scarf at least by next winter.) A few weeks ago, I remembered this idea a couple people at NEC had, where we'd make sandwiches and go around giving them to homeless people. It was one of the best things I've ever been involved in, so recently I've been bringing an extra sandwich to work every day that we have lunch break. For some reason, each time I did that, there was nobody at the intersection when I was driving home, so I just ended up eating both sandwiches...
Then, this morning we had a concert. On Friday morning concerts, there are usually free donuts in the musicians' lounge, and oftentimes that is the highlight of my week, especially when they have my favorite kind (plain and glazed). Today there were three giant baskets of donuts left over after the concert, so I went into pig mode and ate two, saving a third for later. (On a side note, yesterday I took an online quiz called "What Is Your Spirit Animal?" and asked S what he guessed my result was. Without hesitation, he said, "Pig." At least he's honest, but the real result was "Bear.") Later as I drove toward the aforementioned intersection, I saw one of the homeless guys there, and I suddenly thought, "Wait, I have an extra donut! I can give that to him!" I hadn't touched it, and hopefully he wouldn't think it was rude...I mean, whenever someone gives me a free donut, I'm elated. Timing was perfect, so that the traffic light was red and I was stopped about eight feet away from him.
For reasons absolutely incomprehensible to me, I froze. All I could do was look at him, and I swear we made really long eye contact while my heart raced and palms sweated. I stared his cardboard sign, which said the usual things--homeless, anything will help, God bless...I stared at his dirty clothes and grey hair, and I stared at his vacant defeated eyes. The seconds ticked by, the traffic light turned green, and before I knew it, the moment had passed, I'd failed to act, and was driving past him.
Why did I do that???
It wasn't like I had nothing to offer, it wasn't like I was too far away, or it was a green light and people were honking at me, or that he seemed dangerous or sketchy, or that I had doubts about helping him. It would have been so easy for me to just roll down my window, hand him the food, smile, and drive away. But instead I did nothing, and I have NO IDEA why.
On the highway, I kept picturing his face in my mind, remembering how he leaned on a cane, and how the tattered cardboard sign hung limply from his grasp, and with each new detail recalled to his image, I felt worse. I wanted to cry, and when I called my mom on speaker phone to tell her what happened, I did cry. She was totally bewildered as I blubbered and sniffled. "Are you driving right now?" she asked incredulously, and when I said yes, she was all, "Are you crazy? You shouldn't be thinking about this while you're driving. If you want to feel bad, wait until you're safely home!" She asked if something else had gone wrong, and I answered that no, I'd had a perfectly good day up until then. After I calmed down, she told me, "Sometimes it's nice to help someone, but if you don't, it's okay too." She said the government should be fixing this problem, not me, and if nobody gives to these people, maybe they'll find better alternatives to improve their situation. They shouldn't be encouraged to rely on charity. Also, she said it's dangerous to interact with possibly unstable people, especially while driving.
After we hung up, I was still distracted and sad. I missed my highway exit, and it took an extra ten or fifteen minutes to get home.
It's stupid and simply weird/anomalous for me to feel SO guilty over such a little thing...in general, I'm a pretty practical person who has her emotions in check. But I guess when it comes to helping the less fortunate, I don't think there's ever a "little" thing, because you never know what tiny act of kindness could change someone else's life. It's not like handing that man a tasty dessert would have drastically altered his circumstance or prevented him from going hungry ever again, but maybe it would have lifted his spirits. I had an opportunity to do good, yet I didn't, and I just don't understand why.
Guilt is a complicated and fascinating phenomenon...in a way, it's self-centered, because we're thinking about ourselves and our own shame/faults/flaws. At the same time, it connects us to things outside of ourselves and demonstrates our innate morality, the ability to define an objective right and wrong. To me, this is an ultimate proof of a supreme being, because where does morality come from, if not Him? Even the most primitive humans identified guilt, knowing evil is wrong and good is right.
Another thing about guilt is, it's sneaky--you don't know how powerful it is until it hits you. I'm writing about guilt, but I don't even really know what it feels like on a larger scale. To me, guilt means cruel words that escaped my mouth when I was angry, forgetting about God in an obsession over myself, not helping others when I had the chance, and other stuff that's private. And if I were to draw a pie chart of all the emotions I've felt in my life, I'd say yeah, guilt consists of app. one-third, because it's unforgettable...it stays with me no matter what. I can't imagine how torturous guilt from more lasting/impacting crimes must be.
I suppose some people are more sensitive to guilt than others, and there are those few infamous figures that appear(ed) to feel barely any guilt at all, no matter how deplorable their actions. Still, I think it affects us all, whether or not we are open about it. To err is human, and with erring comes guilt...but the beautiful silver lining of guilt shows that despite how inexplicably, bizarrely, perversely, or foolishly wrong humans can be, the little spark of light that is our desire to be good shines on.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
September Notes
It is officially my one-month anniversary of living in Michigan! To celebrate, I stayed home all day in my pajamas and practiced--basically what I do on all my days off.
Over the past month, I began and then abandoned a number of blog posts...lots of topics came to mind, but a couple sentences in, I'd realize I couldn't summon up enough interesting/worthwhile thoughts. Laziness led to guilt, which led to unnecessary added stress, which led to me writing this entry.
The first significant event upon moving here was the purchase of Macy, my first car. This involved a lot of confusing math, frustration, nervousness, and arguments with my mom. Just to show how clueless I was when the whole process began, in July I didn't even know that car payments were divided monthly...I thought I'd just skip into the store, plunk down a bunch of money, take the car, and be done. When I told my dad this, he gave me a look like "are you really my daughter?" and explained APR financing etc. A little history of me+cars: I never had my own car in high school or college, and I get exceedingly nervous when it comes to driving or even filling up gas. Once I was pulled over for drunk-driving, even though I didn't have one drop of alcohol in my body...after explaining that I didn't drink and was simply a bad driver, the policeman gave a commiserating chuckle and went, "Okay, well, drive home safely!" I decided to put all this behind me as I set out to buy my first vehicle. For other inexperienced and confused people out there who are thinking of someday owning a car, here is my advice, from one car dummy to another.
First of all, determine the circumstances in which you'll be driving. Knowing I'd be driving in snow and ice, and aware of my deplorable driving skills, I decided on an All-Wheel Drive. If you're a good driver (or just don't worry about this kind of stuff), you might not need AWD for snow. Next, ask around for advice of the best cars that would suit your needs. I went with a Toyota RAV4, because I know two satisfied RAV4-purchasers. I test-drove one of their cars for a while in California and felt pretty comfortable. I also looked up safety ratings and customer reviews from more reliable websites. Then comes the hard part. I recommend calling/emailing several different dealerships to check their inventory, and whether they have the specific model with the color and features you want, and ask what their lowest price is. You shouldn't commit to any dealership yet; make it clear that you're not going to take any crap, and you just want numbers. Car dealers hate emails, because they have a harder time distracting you with tricky antics. Also, at least for me, female car dealers tended to be more straight-forward and honest. After you get different prices from a couple dealerships, you can compare and start the negotiating process. It's sort of like negotiating for college scholarships...you can play one dealership against the other until you get the best price. Make sure you remember the listing price (MSRP) and NEVER pay above it. One dealership wanted $3,000 over the listing price! You should also feel somewhat comfortable with the dealer you eventually decide on. When the day of your appointment with the dealership arrives, make sure you are WELL-RESTED and WELL-FED, because you will likely be there for a long, l o n g t i m e............If you are a girl, I'd suggest bringing a male with you, any male. I've heard dealerships tend to act differently if a male is present. Ridiculous, but the truth. I'm not a good negotiator, so I can't give tips on that, but make sure you have all your numbers straight, don't be afraid to ask tons of questions, and again, don't take any crap. It's a fine balance between showing that you're smart and not born yesterday, but also a decent/likable person. Ask for any discounts they have for recent college graduates (if that applies to you), and be ready to show a transcript for proof. I went during Labor Day weekend, so I also got a nice promotion from that. Buying towards the end of the year may be cheaper, because they're gearing up for next year's model. There is a lot to think about, but in the end, you're left with a shiny new car, with that shiny new car smell.
Meet Macy! My resilient, friendly, and cute car, who has been braving the highways and streets of Detroit and is prone to collecting excessive condensation.
Another significant happening was moving into my new home. I am currently residing in the first story of a family friend's house in the suburbs. This housemate started out as my mom's friend's friend's friend's friend. The fact that I ended up living with such a distant relation shows how fortunate I am to have been introduced to a continuous line of super generous people. My mom's friend is her old high school classmate, who now goes to our church. She got us in touch with HER friend, who has a family in Michigan. He was one of the people who suggested I get a Toyota RAV4, and he gave me the phone numbers of car dealerships to contact. He then got us in touch with HIS friends, a couple who have become something like second parents to me in Michigan. We met when I was visiting back in May, and we got along so well, I ended up staying several nights at their place, watching operas and movies in their home theater. They took me sight-seeing, gave me advice for my first job, went with me to get Macy, and even gave me speakers for my new TV and an extra music stand. Then they got me in touch with A, and I couldn't have been blessed with a sweeter, more generous housemate/landlord/new friend.
Of course the most significant happening in Michigan is the new job. I wish I had eyes on the back of my head and three more pairs of ears (although how weird would that look?), because there's so much I'm trying to learn, adjust to, and absorb, all at once. These past two weeks have been fascinating, and I am looking forward to what's ahead, praying that I am up to the task and here for a good reason. Something I've learned that I feel comfortable sharing is a reaffirmation that there is simply no point to being snobby or elitist when it comes to music. (Is there a point to being snobby or elitist ever, actually?)
The more you learn about music, the more you develop opinions and become an expert and connoisseur and critic. Pops concerts aren't usually what inspire me most, and plowing through Star Wars or Copland's Hoedown night after night can be tiresome. But last Thursday we played a concert of mostly pops music, for maybe the happiest audience I've ever encountered. The large majority were African-American, and I thought I'd stepped into a Southern Baptist church service, and people would start crying out, "Amen!" and "Praise the Lord!" They cheered raucously in the beginning of the concert before we'd even played a note, simply because someone fixed the microphone. They continued to clap and give standing ovations throughout the concert, piece after piece. As one of my favorite quotes (and apparently one of our conductor's favorites as well) goes, "There are only two kinds of music--good music, and the other stuff." Certain pieces are more intellectually stimulating or emotionally complex than others, but who's to deem what makes "high art" and "low art"? Music and intellect are two separate things, as far as I know. If I can look out into an audience and see eyes alight with joy, and smiles as wide as only music can make them, then I'm happy, whether I personally find satisfaction in the repertoire. Music should encourage us to be selfless, as much as it encourages us to express ourselves. I'm finding that my favorite artists are ones who are the least self-indulgent and who constantly look outward, to the composer, the audience, and the world (e.g. Szigeti and my recent favorite, Isabelle Faust!). We are reaching a point where orchestras all over are having to play more music we're less interested in, and vice versa. The only way to make everyone happy is to try and find worth in everything we do. After all, if a piece of music makes one person in the room happy, there is most certainly worth in performing it.
(All this being said, I will try my best from now on to contain my annoyance with 1812 Overture.)
Over the past month, I began and then abandoned a number of blog posts...lots of topics came to mind, but a couple sentences in, I'd realize I couldn't summon up enough interesting/worthwhile thoughts. Laziness led to guilt, which led to unnecessary added stress, which led to me writing this entry.
The first significant event upon moving here was the purchase of Macy, my first car. This involved a lot of confusing math, frustration, nervousness, and arguments with my mom. Just to show how clueless I was when the whole process began, in July I didn't even know that car payments were divided monthly...I thought I'd just skip into the store, plunk down a bunch of money, take the car, and be done. When I told my dad this, he gave me a look like "are you really my daughter?" and explained APR financing etc. A little history of me+cars: I never had my own car in high school or college, and I get exceedingly nervous when it comes to driving or even filling up gas. Once I was pulled over for drunk-driving, even though I didn't have one drop of alcohol in my body...after explaining that I didn't drink and was simply a bad driver, the policeman gave a commiserating chuckle and went, "Okay, well, drive home safely!" I decided to put all this behind me as I set out to buy my first vehicle. For other inexperienced and confused people out there who are thinking of someday owning a car, here is my advice, from one car dummy to another.
First of all, determine the circumstances in which you'll be driving. Knowing I'd be driving in snow and ice, and aware of my deplorable driving skills, I decided on an All-Wheel Drive. If you're a good driver (or just don't worry about this kind of stuff), you might not need AWD for snow. Next, ask around for advice of the best cars that would suit your needs. I went with a Toyota RAV4, because I know two satisfied RAV4-purchasers. I test-drove one of their cars for a while in California and felt pretty comfortable. I also looked up safety ratings and customer reviews from more reliable websites. Then comes the hard part. I recommend calling/emailing several different dealerships to check their inventory, and whether they have the specific model with the color and features you want, and ask what their lowest price is. You shouldn't commit to any dealership yet; make it clear that you're not going to take any crap, and you just want numbers. Car dealers hate emails, because they have a harder time distracting you with tricky antics. Also, at least for me, female car dealers tended to be more straight-forward and honest. After you get different prices from a couple dealerships, you can compare and start the negotiating process. It's sort of like negotiating for college scholarships...you can play one dealership against the other until you get the best price. Make sure you remember the listing price (MSRP) and NEVER pay above it. One dealership wanted $3,000 over the listing price! You should also feel somewhat comfortable with the dealer you eventually decide on. When the day of your appointment with the dealership arrives, make sure you are WELL-RESTED and WELL-FED, because you will likely be there for a long, l o n g t i m e............If you are a girl, I'd suggest bringing a male with you, any male. I've heard dealerships tend to act differently if a male is present. Ridiculous, but the truth. I'm not a good negotiator, so I can't give tips on that, but make sure you have all your numbers straight, don't be afraid to ask tons of questions, and again, don't take any crap. It's a fine balance between showing that you're smart and not born yesterday, but also a decent/likable person. Ask for any discounts they have for recent college graduates (if that applies to you), and be ready to show a transcript for proof. I went during Labor Day weekend, so I also got a nice promotion from that. Buying towards the end of the year may be cheaper, because they're gearing up for next year's model. There is a lot to think about, but in the end, you're left with a shiny new car, with that shiny new car smell.
Meet Macy! My resilient, friendly, and cute car, who has been braving the highways and streets of Detroit and is prone to collecting excessive condensation.
Another significant happening was moving into my new home. I am currently residing in the first story of a family friend's house in the suburbs. This housemate started out as my mom's friend's friend's friend's friend. The fact that I ended up living with such a distant relation shows how fortunate I am to have been introduced to a continuous line of super generous people. My mom's friend is her old high school classmate, who now goes to our church. She got us in touch with HER friend, who has a family in Michigan. He was one of the people who suggested I get a Toyota RAV4, and he gave me the phone numbers of car dealerships to contact. He then got us in touch with HIS friends, a couple who have become something like second parents to me in Michigan. We met when I was visiting back in May, and we got along so well, I ended up staying several nights at their place, watching operas and movies in their home theater. They took me sight-seeing, gave me advice for my first job, went with me to get Macy, and even gave me speakers for my new TV and an extra music stand. Then they got me in touch with A, and I couldn't have been blessed with a sweeter, more generous housemate/landlord/new friend.
Of course the most significant happening in Michigan is the new job. I wish I had eyes on the back of my head and three more pairs of ears (although how weird would that look?), because there's so much I'm trying to learn, adjust to, and absorb, all at once. These past two weeks have been fascinating, and I am looking forward to what's ahead, praying that I am up to the task and here for a good reason. Something I've learned that I feel comfortable sharing is a reaffirmation that there is simply no point to being snobby or elitist when it comes to music. (Is there a point to being snobby or elitist ever, actually?)
The more you learn about music, the more you develop opinions and become an expert and connoisseur and critic. Pops concerts aren't usually what inspire me most, and plowing through Star Wars or Copland's Hoedown night after night can be tiresome. But last Thursday we played a concert of mostly pops music, for maybe the happiest audience I've ever encountered. The large majority were African-American, and I thought I'd stepped into a Southern Baptist church service, and people would start crying out, "Amen!" and "Praise the Lord!" They cheered raucously in the beginning of the concert before we'd even played a note, simply because someone fixed the microphone. They continued to clap and give standing ovations throughout the concert, piece after piece. As one of my favorite quotes (and apparently one of our conductor's favorites as well) goes, "There are only two kinds of music--good music, and the other stuff." Certain pieces are more intellectually stimulating or emotionally complex than others, but who's to deem what makes "high art" and "low art"? Music and intellect are two separate things, as far as I know. If I can look out into an audience and see eyes alight with joy, and smiles as wide as only music can make them, then I'm happy, whether I personally find satisfaction in the repertoire. Music should encourage us to be selfless, as much as it encourages us to express ourselves. I'm finding that my favorite artists are ones who are the least self-indulgent and who constantly look outward, to the composer, the audience, and the world (e.g. Szigeti and my recent favorite, Isabelle Faust!). We are reaching a point where orchestras all over are having to play more music we're less interested in, and vice versa. The only way to make everyone happy is to try and find worth in everything we do. After all, if a piece of music makes one person in the room happy, there is most certainly worth in performing it.
(All this being said, I will try my best from now on to contain my annoyance with 1812 Overture.)
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Too Much Brahms
You know how, if you overdose on a certain TV show, you start thinking in the voice of the characters? (E.g. When I watch an excessive amount of Friends, I develop an incessantly sarcastic voice in my head that makes side comments to everything, the way Chandler does. If I watch a lot of Family Guy, I start thinking in Stewie's British accent.)
Well, last week I was in a Brahms mood, listening to stuff by Brahms on shuffle every day, practically non-stop. Not only did coherent thoughts with words vanish completely from my mind, to be replaced by occasional bursts of vibrato-infused melodies, but also I developed some unusual urges...
1) To romp about the countryside with my violin, playing devilish gypsy music and emitting occasional high-pitched whoops.
2) To stand in the middle of my backyard with the California sun shining down, hold out my arms, and proclaim, "How lovely is thy dwelling place!" (I declared this to my mom the other day when we were sitting in the living room, but she just gave me a funny look and left the room.)
3) To give big warm hugs to everyone I meet on the street.
4) To continue consuming food at an alarmingly uncontrollable rate until I am a big beefy man with a generous beard and sausage fingers.
5) To walk in hemiola rhythms.
6) To dash Sound-of-Music-style up a lush green hill, heart fluttering with expansive joy, sing a gorgeous tune, and then abruptly lock myself in the privacy of my room and shed quiet tears over unrequited love.
I think it's time for me to listen to a different composer now.
Well, last week I was in a Brahms mood, listening to stuff by Brahms on shuffle every day, practically non-stop. Not only did coherent thoughts with words vanish completely from my mind, to be replaced by occasional bursts of vibrato-infused melodies, but also I developed some unusual urges...
1) To romp about the countryside with my violin, playing devilish gypsy music and emitting occasional high-pitched whoops.
2) To stand in the middle of my backyard with the California sun shining down, hold out my arms, and proclaim, "How lovely is thy dwelling place!" (I declared this to my mom the other day when we were sitting in the living room, but she just gave me a funny look and left the room.)
3) To give big warm hugs to everyone I meet on the street.
4) To continue consuming food at an alarmingly uncontrollable rate until I am a big beefy man with a generous beard and sausage fingers.
5) To walk in hemiola rhythms.
6) To dash Sound-of-Music-style up a lush green hill, heart fluttering with expansive joy, sing a gorgeous tune, and then abruptly lock myself in the privacy of my room and shed quiet tears over unrequited love.
I think it's time for me to listen to a different composer now.
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