Hahahaha this made me laugh so hard:
Jen!!!!!!! I was out of mg mind last few days!! Just finalized my schedule today!!
When do u free?! Since I dont have any audition or smthing I should be flexier than u!!
Here r when i'm free ! Let me know urs too:)
And the message continues. Emailing with J is sort of like Skype-ing with my parents; both make me so happy.
Flexier!!! Hahahahaha...
Friday, January 27, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
It's one of those days...
where I come home from class, lie down on my bed to "rest my eyes," and wake up 3 hours later. Tired and grumpy, I pick up my violin and play about 2 chords before my A string unravels and breaks with a sad twang.
-_-
Having unwisely lent my spare string to someone, I stared aimlessly/hopelessly out the window for a few minutes before deciding I might as well use this unexpected spare time to write an entry.
Today I had a random flashback to freshman year of high school, 8 years ago. I was sitting in some class, Geometry or Bio or--God forbid--PE, and I started imagining what it would be like if I could create the ideal school for myself. This was before I understood the concept of a conservatory or even seriously considered pursuing a career in music...all I knew was I spent every day in school looking forward to Saturdays, when I'd go to San Francisco and play in youth orchestra. So in this ideal school, a sort of Jennifer Utopia, I made up my own schedule of classes and activities. I even remember writing it down in great detail--I wanted to have orchestra every other day, weekly lessons, quartet rehearsals every day, and classes throughout the week about music theory and musicology. And maybe throw in a literature class once in a while. At that time, this seemed like the perfect life. I daydreamed about it constantly, while running laps in PE, memorizing the 7 basic economic principles in Econ, doing labs in Chem, having Socratic seminars in English...
I hated high school, but not because I disliked learning. I LOVE learning, and I always have. I just wanted to learn about music SO much more than than I wanted to learn about other stuff, and the more I realized this, the more "regular" high school seemed like a waste of time.
Well, today it hit me that I am now living the Jennifer Utopia about which I had fantasized so long. Practically verbatim, in fact. I have orchestra every other day (although in a perfect world, rehearsals would not be at 9am...hence my spontaneous naps). I have lessons, I can go to free concerts practically any night of the week, I'm seeing my quartet almost daily. On Wednesdays, I have a 2-hour interpretive analysis class, which is spent discussing certain composers and works in great detail, and listening to one another perform. Ordinarily, my attention span is woefully short, but during this class I'm rapt from beginning to end. On alternating Thursdays, I meet with a professor and one other student, and we talk about Victorian literature, a new novel every 2 weeks. On Fridays, I have a small class for score-reading, which teaches us how to play multiple parts of a score (say, all 4 voices of a quartet) on the piano--a skill I've wanted to acquire for a long, long time. This all may sound boring, but it's what I wanted most, back then. While other teenagers perhaps dreamed about prom, Ivy League schools, making the Varsity basketball team, or med school, I dreamed about this...the life I have now.
Of course, now that I've got it, I have new dreams, hopefully which will also pan out, when the time is right. But it is important to remember how lucky I am at this moment, without looking ahead constantly.
I also realize I should have made more of my high school education, truly learning the things I was taught rather than breezing by on last-minute studying, short-term memory, and luck. There are so many occasions now when I wish I remembered "that thing I learned back in high school." Knowledge of any kind can only make me stronger. I should have figured this out in high school, and maybe I wouldn't have scorned it so much. If I had to be there whether I liked it or not, I might as well have tried my best.
I guess if 14-year old Jennifer somehow appeared in my room right now, complete with Paris sweatshirt, purple braces, and Care Bear watch, she and I would both have some good lessons to teach each other.
-_-
Having unwisely lent my spare string to someone, I stared aimlessly/hopelessly out the window for a few minutes before deciding I might as well use this unexpected spare time to write an entry.
Today I had a random flashback to freshman year of high school, 8 years ago. I was sitting in some class, Geometry or Bio or--God forbid--PE, and I started imagining what it would be like if I could create the ideal school for myself. This was before I understood the concept of a conservatory or even seriously considered pursuing a career in music...all I knew was I spent every day in school looking forward to Saturdays, when I'd go to San Francisco and play in youth orchestra. So in this ideal school, a sort of Jennifer Utopia, I made up my own schedule of classes and activities. I even remember writing it down in great detail--I wanted to have orchestra every other day, weekly lessons, quartet rehearsals every day, and classes throughout the week about music theory and musicology. And maybe throw in a literature class once in a while. At that time, this seemed like the perfect life. I daydreamed about it constantly, while running laps in PE, memorizing the 7 basic economic principles in Econ, doing labs in Chem, having Socratic seminars in English...
I hated high school, but not because I disliked learning. I LOVE learning, and I always have. I just wanted to learn about music SO much more than than I wanted to learn about other stuff, and the more I realized this, the more "regular" high school seemed like a waste of time.
Well, today it hit me that I am now living the Jennifer Utopia about which I had fantasized so long. Practically verbatim, in fact. I have orchestra every other day (although in a perfect world, rehearsals would not be at 9am...hence my spontaneous naps). I have lessons, I can go to free concerts practically any night of the week, I'm seeing my quartet almost daily. On Wednesdays, I have a 2-hour interpretive analysis class, which is spent discussing certain composers and works in great detail, and listening to one another perform. Ordinarily, my attention span is woefully short, but during this class I'm rapt from beginning to end. On alternating Thursdays, I meet with a professor and one other student, and we talk about Victorian literature, a new novel every 2 weeks. On Fridays, I have a small class for score-reading, which teaches us how to play multiple parts of a score (say, all 4 voices of a quartet) on the piano--a skill I've wanted to acquire for a long, long time. This all may sound boring, but it's what I wanted most, back then. While other teenagers perhaps dreamed about prom, Ivy League schools, making the Varsity basketball team, or med school, I dreamed about this...the life I have now.
Of course, now that I've got it, I have new dreams, hopefully which will also pan out, when the time is right. But it is important to remember how lucky I am at this moment, without looking ahead constantly.
I also realize I should have made more of my high school education, truly learning the things I was taught rather than breezing by on last-minute studying, short-term memory, and luck. There are so many occasions now when I wish I remembered "that thing I learned back in high school." Knowledge of any kind can only make me stronger. I should have figured this out in high school, and maybe I wouldn't have scorned it so much. If I had to be there whether I liked it or not, I might as well have tried my best.
I guess if 14-year old Jennifer somehow appeared in my room right now, complete with Paris sweatshirt, purple braces, and Care Bear watch, she and I would both have some good lessons to teach each other.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Bronte
The writer who possesses the creative gift owns something of which he is not always master--something that at times strangely wills and works for itself...Be the work grim or glorious, dread or divine, you have little choice left but quiescent adoption. As for you--the nominal artist--your share in it has been to work passively under dictates you neither delivered nor could question--that would not be uttered at your prayer, nor suppressed nor changed at your caprice. If the result be attractive, the World will praise you, who little deserve praise; if it be repulsive, the same World will blame you, who almost as little deserve blame.
-Charlotte Bronte's preface to the 1850 edition of her sister Emily Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights
-Charlotte Bronte's preface to the 1850 edition of her sister Emily Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights
Friday, December 23, 2011
Nietzsche and Shakespeare
On the plane ride home, I finally drudged my way to the end of Nietzsche's manifesto, Thus Spake Zarathustra. What a drag. For those who are interested in exploring Nietzsche, do NOT choose this book for your first foray. Much of what he said is entirely against my most core beliefs, but on a more basic level, I simply could not understand what he was going on about a lot of the time. I don't think I've ever read a book that irritated me more, except Voltaire's Candide. (Weird how both these books I read for musical purposes...Bernstein and Strauss.) I couldn't even bring myself to finish it, I was so annoyed...promptly gave it to a friend who's far more cynical and tolerant of endless sarcasm. She enjoyed it very much.
All this being said, there were a few passages in the Nietzsche that I enjoyed enough to dog-ear and share, so here they are:
It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but because we are wont to love.
There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also, some method in madness.
Marriage: so call I the will of the twain to create the one that is more than those who created it.
His soul become impatient and full of longing for those whom he loved: because he had still much to give them. For this is the hardest of all: to close the open hand out of love, and keep modest as a giver.
Will--so is the emancipator and joy-bringer called: thus have I taught you, my friends! But now learn this likewise: the Will itself is still a prisoner. Willing emancipateth: but what is that called which still putteth the emancipator in chains?...that it cannot break time and time's desire--that is the Will's lonesomest tribulation.
Free will and its limits...which brings me to Shakespeare, and my favorite moment in Macbeth:
(as he's facing his imminent and inevitable death, realizing that he has no control over his destiny)
I will not yield, to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet...though opposed, Yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my war lie shield. Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" -Macbeth
One of the incredible feats Shakespeare accomplishes is creating characters that captivate their audience, pulling readers along as if by hypnosis, despite how despicable the character may be. We know Macbeth is no saint...he kills people, tricks people, is unmoved by his wife's death...nevertheless, in his last moments as he picks up his sword and vows not to yield even in the face of his destiny (which he finally acknowledges), there's this strange triumph that stirs in my gut and enthusiastic internal cheering (GO MACBETH!). It's as if Shakespeare is telling us, yes, free will may only exist within the confines of fate, like a tiny inaccessible window in the prison of a pre-written destiny...but these futile fighters of fate are nobler than those who submit.
(Whether I agree with this is a whole different matter.)
All this being said, there were a few passages in the Nietzsche that I enjoyed enough to dog-ear and share, so here they are:
It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but because we are wont to love.
There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also, some method in madness.
Marriage: so call I the will of the twain to create the one that is more than those who created it.
His soul become impatient and full of longing for those whom he loved: because he had still much to give them. For this is the hardest of all: to close the open hand out of love, and keep modest as a giver.
Will--so is the emancipator and joy-bringer called: thus have I taught you, my friends! But now learn this likewise: the Will itself is still a prisoner. Willing emancipateth: but what is that called which still putteth the emancipator in chains?...that it cannot break time and time's desire--that is the Will's lonesomest tribulation.
Free will and its limits...which brings me to Shakespeare, and my favorite moment in Macbeth:
(as he's facing his imminent and inevitable death, realizing that he has no control over his destiny)
I will not yield, to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet...though opposed, Yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my war lie shield. Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" -Macbeth
One of the incredible feats Shakespeare accomplishes is creating characters that captivate their audience, pulling readers along as if by hypnosis, despite how despicable the character may be. We know Macbeth is no saint...he kills people, tricks people, is unmoved by his wife's death...nevertheless, in his last moments as he picks up his sword and vows not to yield even in the face of his destiny (which he finally acknowledges), there's this strange triumph that stirs in my gut and enthusiastic internal cheering (GO MACBETH!). It's as if Shakespeare is telling us, yes, free will may only exist within the confines of fate, like a tiny inaccessible window in the prison of a pre-written destiny...but these futile fighters of fate are nobler than those who submit.
(Whether I agree with this is a whole different matter.)
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
A Tumblr Post
...meaning, posting a picture/video/link, writing a few words underneath ("lol," "exactly," and/or "<3"), and calling it a blog entry. I could potentially go on for a couple paragraphs on any of these (unrelated) things, but there's too much to share, and no time or need to elaborate, for the most part.
1) First of all, my favorite:
HAHAHA!!! Not making a statement on my political views, but just saying as an unbiased observer, this is absolutely hilarious. Seriously, every time I watch it, I just laugh even harder.
2)
Gave me a good laugh when I saw it this morning. Based on http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-edinburgh-east-fife-16023328.
3) Award-winning pizza made by the cutest happiest old man. :)
Imagine being the best at something so simple, yet so appreciated--making pizza--for 50 years. He doesn't even use oven mitts, he just takes the pizza out of the oven with his bare hands...haha! More at http://www.domdemarcos.com/story.html. DiFara's pizza...when you eat it, you won't be able to stop smiling.
4) Love, love me doe:
http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/12/06/chinese-zoo-at-a-loss-what-to-do-when-a-deer-and-a-ram-fall-in-love/ :)
5) Cool beyond words:
1) First of all, my favorite:
HAHAHA!!! Not making a statement on my political views, but just saying as an unbiased observer, this is absolutely hilarious. Seriously, every time I watch it, I just laugh even harder.
2)
Gave me a good laugh when I saw it this morning. Based on http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-edinburgh-east-fife-16023328.
3) Award-winning pizza made by the cutest happiest old man. :)
Imagine being the best at something so simple, yet so appreciated--making pizza--for 50 years. He doesn't even use oven mitts, he just takes the pizza out of the oven with his bare hands...haha! More at http://www.domdemarcos.com/story.html. DiFara's pizza...when you eat it, you won't be able to stop smiling.
4) Love, love me doe:
http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/12/06/chinese-zoo-at-a-loss-what-to-do-when-a-deer-and-a-ram-fall-in-love/ :)5) Cool beyond words:
*** One more:
V showed me this at her house recently...I have NO idea why, but we watched it over and over, gasping for breath amid hysterical laughter. I share it in the hopes that the two of us weren't totally crazy, and other saner people find it funny too.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Heebie-Jeebies
Just my nerdy thought of the day, which is that classical music, not often associated with horror or the shivers, can be downright terrifying sometimes. Top 3 scariest pieces I've encountered thus far are:
1) Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin--not the orchestral suite, which I think is a kind of lame abridged version (sorry, Bartok!) since it ends halfway before the story is through and leaves out some of the best/scariest parts, but the entire work. Even if you don't know that the piece is about a prostitute who lures three men, the last of which stares at her with green glowing eyes and is unable to be killed (despite being stabbed and beaten and hung from a chandelier) until she has sex with him, it's enough to scare the pants off any listener with proper senses. Especially the end, when his wounds begin to bleed and he finally dies...holy crap.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyvFDdYM-rU (27:00-end is the worst.)
2) Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire. The first time I heard this piece, I had to leave the concert hall, it was that upsetting...and that was before I read the poems it's based on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veUJxETj7-c
3) Berg's Wozzeck. The WORST! Induces fright that would make The Exorcist proud...I refuse to listen to the last scene of this opera alone. Wozzeck has killed his wife with a knife...a bunch of little children including his son find out and run off to see the body...the son is oblivious.
No link, because I'm too scared to find a video of it online and listen to make sure it's a good version. Search for it on your own, if you dare...seriously...it gives me the heebie-jeebies.
1) Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin--not the orchestral suite, which I think is a kind of lame abridged version (sorry, Bartok!) since it ends halfway before the story is through and leaves out some of the best/scariest parts, but the entire work. Even if you don't know that the piece is about a prostitute who lures three men, the last of which stares at her with green glowing eyes and is unable to be killed (despite being stabbed and beaten and hung from a chandelier) until she has sex with him, it's enough to scare the pants off any listener with proper senses. Especially the end, when his wounds begin to bleed and he finally dies...holy crap.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyvFDdYM-rU (27:00-end is the worst.)
2) Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire. The first time I heard this piece, I had to leave the concert hall, it was that upsetting...and that was before I read the poems it's based on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veUJxETj7-c
3) Berg's Wozzeck. The WORST! Induces fright that would make The Exorcist proud...I refuse to listen to the last scene of this opera alone. Wozzeck has killed his wife with a knife...a bunch of little children including his son find out and run off to see the body...the son is oblivious.
No link, because I'm too scared to find a video of it online and listen to make sure it's a good version. Search for it on your own, if you dare...seriously...it gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Idea 2
Walking along Newbury Street with V, and she says, "I always get caught up in the moment and forget to take pictures. What I need is a video camera strapped on the top of my head at all times."
Haha!! Ingenious!
Haha!! Ingenious!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Post-Recital Joys
***Sunday morning, I was having the breakfast buffet at my family's hotel restaurant...sitting in front of my large plate piled with food, spearing scrambled eggs and sausage onto my fork, when my sister and I had the following profound conversation:
"Jennifer, do you remember our old breakfasts at home, when we were younger, and we'd have scrambled eggs and sausage, or hash browns and sunny side up?"
"Yeah, that was so good! I loved combining the hash browns and sunny side up, that was my favorite!"
"Well, I was just watching you eat your scrambled eggs and sausage, and it reminded me of that. But you know when you combine them, which one do you put on your fork first, the eggs or the sausage?"
"Ohhh, usually I put the egg on first, because it's softer."
"Yeah, if you put the sausage first and then try to get the egg with it, the eggs just fall apart, right?"
"Exactly!"
"But just now I saw you put the sausage on first."
"Well, I was cutting the sausage, and then I accidentally forked it first instead of the eggs, but the eggs still stayed intact!"
"Yeah, I think it's because the eggs here are more solid and sort of glued together."
"Yeahhh, that's the case with most hotel breakfast scrambled eggs, I've realized! They're kind of harder and don't have much flavor and are even kind of plastic-y."
We went on like this for a while. By the time we looked up from our engrossing discussion, both our parents had left the table. :(
Post-Recital Joys:
1) midnight dinner at Legal Seafood
2) bouquets of flowers, tons of color filling my tiny apartment
3) finally listening to Mylo Xyloto
4) catching up with my good old Mei, and morphing comfortably and joyfully back into my true bossy self. :)
"Jennifer, do you remember our old breakfasts at home, when we were younger, and we'd have scrambled eggs and sausage, or hash browns and sunny side up?"
"Yeah, that was so good! I loved combining the hash browns and sunny side up, that was my favorite!"
"Well, I was just watching you eat your scrambled eggs and sausage, and it reminded me of that. But you know when you combine them, which one do you put on your fork first, the eggs or the sausage?"
"Ohhh, usually I put the egg on first, because it's softer."
"Yeah, if you put the sausage first and then try to get the egg with it, the eggs just fall apart, right?"
"Exactly!"
"But just now I saw you put the sausage on first."
"Well, I was cutting the sausage, and then I accidentally forked it first instead of the eggs, but the eggs still stayed intact!"
"Yeah, I think it's because the eggs here are more solid and sort of glued together."
"Yeahhh, that's the case with most hotel breakfast scrambled eggs, I've realized! They're kind of harder and don't have much flavor and are even kind of plastic-y."
We went on like this for a while. By the time we looked up from our engrossing discussion, both our parents had left the table. :(
Post-Recital Joys:
1) midnight dinner at Legal Seafood
2) bouquets of flowers, tons of color filling my tiny apartment
3) finally listening to Mylo Xyloto
4) catching up with my good old Mei, and morphing comfortably and joyfully back into my true bossy self. :)
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Mistakes
One reason I keep journal entries--sometimes it takes a lifetime of learning the same lesson over and over and freaking over again for anything to sink in. Amid a mini-panic attack today while practicing, when I started messing up a lot for no reason and was on the verge of bursting into tears like a baby, a memory came drifting into my head, like a dandelion petal floating lazily just out of fingertip's reach. I jumped to my computer, opened it up to a few years ago, and found this entry, scribbled (well, typed, but in a "scribbling" manner) in a state of post-concert euphoria:
Everything about him glows...he can find joy and wonder in every little phrase, and he can communicate it through his playing like no one else I've seen. He commits to everything, and even when he messes up, his rigor and enthusiasm and life to every note NEVER dies. I remember before our concert, he asked me if I was nervous and I said no, and he said he was nervous, he always gets really nervous for stuff, but he said it helps him play better--he listens really well and does more creative stuff. Then he said, "It also makes me mess up a lot, and Jennifer I know you are not a fan of messing up, but mistakes are part of life, and in the end, who cares." I actually thought about that throughout the concert, and I think hes the one that really set this attitude, this philosophy of, "mistakes happen, so do everything with all you've got, and as long as you've done that, it doesn't matter if you screw up," that made our group successful. Because it's not like you screw up because you're not paying attention or not committing enough. It's that you've committed so much that when a little mistake slips through, as mistakes always do, it simply is nothing compared to how much enthusiasm and love you've conjured for the music. It seems cliche, but his belief really hit home for me that night.
Everything about him glows...he can find joy and wonder in every little phrase, and he can communicate it through his playing like no one else I've seen. He commits to everything, and even when he messes up, his rigor and enthusiasm and life to every note NEVER dies. I remember before our concert, he asked me if I was nervous and I said no, and he said he was nervous, he always gets really nervous for stuff, but he said it helps him play better--he listens really well and does more creative stuff. Then he said, "It also makes me mess up a lot, and Jennifer I know you are not a fan of messing up, but mistakes are part of life, and in the end, who cares." I actually thought about that throughout the concert, and I think hes the one that really set this attitude, this philosophy of, "mistakes happen, so do everything with all you've got, and as long as you've done that, it doesn't matter if you screw up," that made our group successful. Because it's not like you screw up because you're not paying attention or not committing enough. It's that you've committed so much that when a little mistake slips through, as mistakes always do, it simply is nothing compared to how much enthusiasm and love you've conjured for the music. It seems cliche, but his belief really hit home for me that night.
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