My heart is warmed. We are starting rehearsals (make that *rehearsal*) for the Nutcracker. This may not mean new music to sink my teeth into, but it definitely means that this holiday season is WAY better than the last one. I'm making money, the Nutcracker puts me in the holiday spirit, and to put a cherry on top, I remembered how to knit even though I haven't touched my needles in MONTHS!

It's a great time of year. Thanks, Nutcracker.

Tonight is my first Christmas concert where I am teaching a fully fledged string ensemble.

Of course, the ensemble has three people in it, and no violas, which leaves me to fill in with my awesome uneducated skill set - shut uuuuuup...

STILL, it is the first night of what has been promised to be an epic event. My university apparently holds three services over the course of a weekend, with a total of 1200 people passing through the doors over said weekend. The tickets sold out weeks ago.

On the string ensemble slice of the program: A mild-mannered version of Corelli's Christmas concerto that lasts all of three minutes, a quartet reduction of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and an arrangement of What Child is This by yours truly. I have been informed by my supervisor that normally the attendees DO NOT CLAP, as it is a CHURCH SERVICE.

This, however, brings up an interesting point. I attended many, many church services as a child, and now performed in several as an adult. Clapping to show appreciation after a performance has seemed fairly random. Here are some observations I have made so far on the subject:

*If the piece ends quietly, applause is much less likely. The reverse is true for a piece that ends loudly.
*The quality is important. Applause happens for the very very good performances, as well as the very not so good ones. Average, middle-of-the-road performances are not usually applauded after.
*The Lutheran congregation seemed hesitant to start their applause. The Baptist congregation dove right in. This is unexpected somehow.
*Prelude and offertory music are much more quietly received, supposedly in anticipation of either the start of the service or a benediciton.
*You could miss about twenty notes in your piece and no matter what applause you get, you will get an appreciative member of the congregation who will make it a point to tell you how much they enjoyed it. They are a nice bunch.

It will be interesting to watch the collective mindset of the audience tonight. Immediately following our performance are three verses of Silent Night, during which we will be moving stuff on the stage. That in itself should be applause worthy, but usually isn't. And then follows a couple more hours where I will have to sit in the back with the students since this place is completely sold out.

On a related note, I am so proud of my kiddos. They have come a long way. And they sound pretty darn good.

I have reached this point every year since high school and am surprised by it every time. It's December, people. The academic world starts snowballing.

Actually, that's not quite accurate. It would be a snowball if one spends Thanksgiving break building up events and homework and business. But that never happens. Thanksgiving is a welcome break from the chaos that begins building from about the middle of October. Then the chaos slams again. So you're not so much experiencing a snowball effect so much as the feeling one would get after the eye of a hurricane has passed,

Eyes become bleary, and an amazing feat happens every year. Students and faculty alike realize they are dangerously close to the end of the term, and a haze sets over campus. Everyone develops what is understood to be a countdown meter above their heads, letting everyone know that their exhaustion is justified. They will make it, they will do everything that is required of them to the best of their ability, and then they will collapse and firmly not think about education for about two weeks.

I, in my infinite wisdom, scheduled a final for the participants in my string ensemble. I figured it was a way to raise the bar - make sure that my group is dutifully studying scales and etudes along with learning their ensemble repertoire. It would let people know that the new faculty member in town expected some serious work and individual practice! And something worked - my group sounds far betterr than it did at the beginning of the semester, that's for sure.

However, I now realize why my ensemble directors in the past never scheduled finals: they would have to show up for them!

The worst part is that now I have set a precedent. It will just look silly of me to stop the running of these tests unless my group grows to a size where it doesn't make sense to run 1-on-1 finals anymore. I have committed myself to finals week indefinitely.

One learns a lot their first term as the new kid in town. It's all worth it, though- my kids rock. And more importantly, they're excited to play.

This is really all I require.

Dear Republican Party:

I knew you would have some significant victories tonight, and I know some people think we need a change. However, I have already felt that change. Obama has passed legislation on student loans and credit cards that have saved me a LOT of money. Money I have - you guessed it - put back in the economy. Please talk to each other these next two years. Focusing on reversing the progress that has already happened won't be good for anyone. And please don't take away these wonderful changes he's made for people in debt like me. I really enjoy being able to eat and pay rent.

Respectfully,

Me

PS - a shout out to the Pres. Thank you for saving me hundreds of dollars a year. Thank you for keeping this country safe without a fear-based agenda. Thank you for giving children healthcare and protecting the future of this country. I know there are people who are afraid of what you stand for, and are latching on to the abstract notion that you may do something they disapprove of. I prefer to focus on the concrete things that have already happened.

My car is plastered in lovely, yellow leaves. It's gray, but not dark outside. I am swapping outerwear between my rocking Mammoth rain jacket and a wide assortment of knitwear dusters depending on the moisture content outside. It is officially fall in Oregon, and I am digging it.

Last year I got a little blue during the winter, and I am determined to not let that happen this year. I have lots of good things going for me this year:

I have a much better work schedule this year.
I am able to take more gigs this year.
I have jobs giving me great experience for down the road.
I will be able to go see my family for Thanksgiving.
Spring break lined up for both me and hubby, meaning we have a potentially amazing vacation on our hands.
After giving up lactose and caffiene, I am feeling generally healthier.
More gigs and teaching means more violin playing, which means I am much closer to the sheer amount of playing I was doing in school.
The ballet came to their senses and we now get Nutcracker services this December.
Hubby and I have decided on a super cool Christmas present for ourselves.

Now, if I can find some more variety in my diet, and maybe get myself to the gym, I should have an awesome winter. I hope.

What I would really like to write here is a long, lengthy complaint about people who seem to be doing their best to ruin me.

This, however, won't bode well for me in the near future, so I will have to save this for my own personal journal.

In the meantime, here's a picture of a puppy.



Exactly how I feel, little buddy.

Hobbies

I used to have a ton of hobbies.

Then I started grad school.

When I got my degree from Northwestern, it was one of the proudest days of my life. I had, in my hands, a masters degree which I had worked insanely hard for. So hard for, it seems, that people would ask me what I liked to do for fun and I couldn't answer them.

Here are the hobbies I have taken up since graduating three years ago. It still seems like a limited list, and I still feel like I have only a tiny bit of contributing conversation when talking with my super smart friends, but here goes.

Cooking. I kind of didn't have a choice in getting interested in this matter. Celiac makes you necessarily interested in food, and I know more and more about it every day as I simply take note of how my body is reacting to the stuff I eat. However, it has been exciting to broaden my horizons. This morning for breakfast I had fresh figs dipped in honey flavored lactose-free yogurt. Delicious, and definitely not something I would have ever craved three years ago.

Knitting. This is something I pick up and put down continually, but thanks to a generous Christmas present from Hubby, I got a huge shove in a more ambitious direction. This year I managed to complete a pair of fingerless gloves and one sock. (The other one's coming along.) I even had enough confidence in my ability to knit a scarf for my mom for Christmas. She loved it, and I don't think she was feigning enthusiasm just because I'm her daughter.

Growing a patio garden. Difficult in Oregon, and the season is already just about over. I did manage three or four strawberries, a good dozen green beans, and one lemon cucumber this year, though. I have some tomatoes that are big and green, but I am not holding out hope for any of them turning red.

Geocaching. Best treasure hunting ever! I haven't been out looking in a while, and I have only found twelve in total, but I very much enjoy the chase.

Belly dancing. My brand new one, and NO, I am not ready to dance for anyone just yet. I have had two private lessons and many private moments at home moving around with my coin belt, just listening for the right jingles to happen.

What are your hobbies? Any suggestions to continue my quest to be more than a person who plays the violin?

I am a pretty lucky, pretty healthy girl. I'm in my 20's, have my diet under control, and my exercising habits are getting much better. I realize I have it much better off than many, many people.

But one day a month makes me long for the days when I no longer have a menstrual cycle. I will not miss the achiness, bloatiness, dizziness, and general pain that comes along with the Heavy Day. (I will also not miss the quasi-related migraines that sometimes happen a couple days before.)

That is all! I am looking forward to tomorrow.

Prop 8 has been overturned, and I am fairly confident that anyone that knows me or reads my blog semi regularly knows that I am not only relieved, I feel it was the right decision. I know there are several out there who agree, and several who disagree.

I am not here to make points on why I think the repeal was the morally just decision; I can save that for a whole other blog post. I have made an observation, however. Those people who are in favor of Prop 8 generally do not know or associate themselves with many gay people, either knowingly or by choice. Those who think Prop 8 was wrong generally do.

A long time ago, someone who I consider far more than a friend to me came out. It was the first time anyone had ever told me they were gay before. Not long before the admission, I had made the comment, "you can't persecute people for who they're attracted to... gay people just can't HELP it!"

I am terribly embarrassed by this comment now. I wasn't homophobic in the least, I was simply ignorant. Not being able to "help" something has far too negative of a connotation. It is something people say in reference to terrible diseases ("She has cancer and is throwing up because she can't help it") or apologies ("I am so sorry I ate the last of the chips, I just could't help myself!")

I made this comment not because I was anti-gay. I made it because I had never known a gay person. Later on this same friend had his heart broken, not because he fell in love with a man, but because he had the terrible misfortune of falling in love with a jerk. (Gay people: they're just like us!!) I have seen people formerly squeamish over his homosexuality come to accept the guy he's with now, as he has had the amazing perseverance to show them he is still the same person, and an even better version of himself for knowing fully who he is.

In my eyes, he is remarkable because he is my friend. But his journey is not rare, and his situation is not special. His love is beautiful, but far from unique. Not unique means unfair when treated as an exception.

And with a heavy sigh, that is all. Start the cutthroat debate as you will.

I ♥ TV.

The shows I'm currently trying to catch up on/watch right now:

Mad Men (sooo good.)
Hung
Project Runway
Grey's Anatomy (I've got about half of last season to watch mindlessly)
Louie
Psych (this season is only okay, but it's a cute show)

Also got a few recommended to me that I've never seen, but are on my wishlist:

Weeds
Dexter
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Firefly

I hand it to you, interwebs. (I have a feeling Lisa, specifically, will have some ideas.) What am I missing?

Luxurious day. I woke up and shared a cup of coffee with my husband. Headed off to the gym, and treated myself to some sushi after doing some REALLY difficult ab work. Went grocery shopping, and threw barbeque chicken in the crockpot, letting the smell slowly permeate every corner of the apartment. Almost done cleaning the apartment, and I may have time to practice before dinner and rehearsal. I may even talk T into an episode of Mad Men before we hit the sack.

My schedule is slow until August 14th and I intend to enjoy every minute of it. Won't get two weeks like this again until next year.

A New Love

That would be Coos Bay, Oregon.

About ten years ago, Coos Bay was evidently the site of an awful oil spill... did a number on a thriving oyster industry, and was a terrible foreshadowing of what was to come in the Gulf of Mexico on a much larger scale. You wouldn't know this, however, driving in Coos Bay today.

It's a typical Oregon coast town. It's on the sleepy side, it's small, and it's got a temperature range I could live in year round. And this week it was the host of the Oregon Coast Music Festival.



(I'm in there somewhere.)

I had a rough start to my summer. My teaching job that I was super secure with ended on a sour note. I had a plethora of music festivals to fill my summer, but the nagging feeling of what I was going to do was always looming on my mind.

Shortly after my kiddos' last recital, I took off for Astoria. Then Salem. Then Eugene. Then a job interview. Then bed (I was sick all the way back in Salem.) Then Eugene again. Coos Bay was going to be a quick week sandwiched between finishing arranging music and performing that same music, and then I would wrap up my summer in Los Angeles.

The Oregon Coast Music Festival is peaceful, away from stress. You can commit all musical emotion to the performances while enjoying the serenity of the silences. And something happened that week: I got a little piece of myself back.

Musicians need to be prepared to perform at any moment, in any venue. This may sound dramatic, but it's not uncommon. If we have a concert booked until ten on a Saturday night and are offered a lucrative Sunday morning gig at a church, we're going to take it. It's what freelancers do. It may be Sibelius at night and Mozart in the morning - we can and do change masks that fast.

I'm beginning to find that if I'm not careful, and I don't give myself time to decompress and come out of the constantly changing roles, I can get lost in it all. And I won't even see it coming. OCMF was therapeutic. Rehearse in the morning, explore the town in the afternoon, relax at supper, perform in the evening. Rigorous schedule physically, but nothing compared to what I had already put myself through. (And what is yet to come.)

I did my best this week. I truly always do my best - I think this is the entire point of being a musician. But with a mental cleansing, I was really able to put my best foot forward. And I got stronger through the week. Looking back on it now, I think it was a subconscious push to get invited back next summer. And I hope I do, I really hope I do. The satisfaction was too great, the reward too gratifying.

I can face anything now. I got to remember who I was.

Zee bee-yoo-tee-full violinist

There are some pictures of me on the web that are less than flattering. (We can just leave it at that.)

This profile pic is definitely not one of them. It was taken by the amazingly talented Wendy Collins, whose website is here. If you are anywhere near the Portland area, getting any kind of photos, from headshots to candid family portraits, is an incredibly good idea.

I'm totally not exaggerating - I will be using the headshots she grabbed of me for many, many years to come.

I had myself a meditative weekend.

Friday and Saturday were spent in beautiful Astoria, which is a place I adore visiting more and more with each journey out there. Played some amazing music with some amazing people. I'm always grateful to play in an orchestra that functions as a mutual admiration society.

I also started reading Violin Dreams by Arnold Steinhardt. It's a book I've been recommended highly before by other musicians. I'm completely in love with it, and only on chapter four. The man knows how to write about music. It's like I took time to get back to my roots. Tell myself why I chose music as my profession, and that bad things happen in EVERY profession. All that matters is how one proceeds.

Sunday was spent completely with my husband. We've now been married a year, and have a great understanding and respect for each other. We took the day to drive up to Seattle and see a Mariners game. We ate good food and cheered loudly. Also got our feet and jeans pretty soaked - did you know it sometimes POURS in the Northwest?

I took, of course, zero pictures of these three wonderful days. I'm kind of okay with that. It was cleansing, and after an emotional week, I feel so much better. I'm practicing again, working out again, heck - I'm going OUTSIDE again. Things are much better, and much more stable. My summer festivals are shaping up, my fall studio is under development, and my winter recital is nearly decided.

Thank goodness.... I'm a musician again!!

I have this uneasy feeling. I'm feeling as though there are some people out there that I loved and trusted that suddenly did everything in their power to not have me around anymore. I haven't had that feeling since high school.

Heck, look at that sentence. It SOUNDS like high school.

I wish I could be more specific, but this is as venty as I can get on the internet. I knew this would be an interesting summer, and I'm not wrong.

This is a time in my life where I am grateful - SO GRATEFUL - that I am a musician. Music is a world to immerse oneself in to escape any troubles that come around. I am lucky enough to go to a rehearsal tonight and just PLAY. Good music, too - Sibelius and Grieg are wonderful pieces to take you away from reality and enjoy the life you live in.

Plus I am having a GREAT hair day, so I got that going for me.

Gather your forces before venturing forth

I ran across this piece of paper during the actual final (!!) phase of organizing our second bedroom. Quotes I had written down from ONE rehearsal at Northwestern. Too funny, and too good to not save electronically.

"French horn, English horn, American girls."
"Something is boiling underneath. It's a stew."
"At F, which stands for 'Florida Natural Orange Juice.'"
"Nature is not cooperating at the moment."
"French horns - I'm praying for you guys."
"I'm sorry, we have a huge COUGH coming from Memphis, Tennessee!"
"Maybe it was just a flukey mistake."
"Harmonics: nobody knows why we have them, nobody likes them, nobody knows how to play them."
"It's very cute what Mahler wrote."
"Give him slap in the face. He deserve it! Some people are bad."
"Those are boots. But they're not Austrian - they're Czech! Great shoes."
"Violas - please look at the freaky note there."
"Six flats. That's not a big Christmas present."
"Don't look at me!"
"I just realized Mahler was illegitimate son of Hindemith."
"I am delegating my authority from France to the trombone section."
"GATHER YOUR FORCES BEFORE VENTURING FORTH!" (He must have yelled this - my handwriting is in all caps.)

Time on her hands and an America's Next Top Model marathon on the TV was a dangerous combination. The second bedroom had been nagging - nay, SCREAMING at her to get organized. Piles upon piles of paper mess had to be gone through, and things needed to be labeled, reorganized, and in some cases delicately removed WITHOUT the comfort of protective biohazard gear.

Armed with a diet coke, she tiptoed her way in. The room looked innocent enough, but behind those swinging white doors lurked the day project of terror. Faintly, she heard a trace of her only company in the background:

"Girrrrrrrrl, we got TYRAMAIL!!"

Inhale, exhale. It just COULDN'T be as bad as she thought, right? There was no way in except to jump in with both feet. She reached out, touched the handle, and flung it wide open.

"AIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

****

Conclusion to follow. (???)

Tonight I go to bed with nearly two weeks of unemployment facing me.

I've been told not to freak out, and to enjoy this amazing amount of free time. And I think I will. Cleaning, reading, practicing, gardening, and video games are a few items on my short list.

Of course, who knows how my subconscious will handle the whole thing. Perhaps anxiety ridden dreams of werewolves in suits telling me I will never work again will wrack my brain. (Don't laugh.)

(Okay, laugh. I guess I would.)

No matter what, I have Udi's bagels and Tofutti cream cheese awaiting me for breakfast in the morning. So life can't be too hopeless.

Sweet dreams, everybody!

Inspiration

That's the name of the game today. The kiddos all banded together today and I had a record TWENTY TWO students perform at four separate recitals today. I am so proud of each and every one of them. I get the same reaction from many people when I tell them how many students I teach, and they all seem to say, "That's a lot!" "Yes," I respond, "But they're easy."

Musicians are very good at inspiring other musicians. No matter what their age. Every single recital I look at their work and think to myself, "Man, I have to start practicing." This time was slightly different. I looked at their work, and thought, "Look at how much they made out of what I assigned them." It's a challenge, to have someone else tell you what to play and get something good out of it. The students made it personal, which is also something I try to emphasize every day. If you're not up there to make music, what's the point?

And so we come to the manifestation of my inspiration: I want to make something out of somebody else's suggestion.

This winter, I will plan on my next recital... probably around Thanksgiving. And I have no ideas for programming. That is where you, dear readers (and eventually facebook friends) will come into play. My next recital will be entirely suggestions from others. Musician or non-musician, violinist or non-violinist, it doesn't matter. Suggestions may range anywhere from Brahms sonatas to Hot Cross Buns. I want a program given to me, as I have a tendency to trust the opinion of the collective versus what I could possibly come up with on my own. (This is kind of the the wikipedia philosphy.)

A more organized facebook campaign is to follow. Until then, post your ideas in the comments! Bach, Beethoven, or Backstreet Boys - nothing is off limits.

Live Blogging from a Gluten Attack

.....except not really.

The attack happened yesterday, from a beloved restaurant I've never had any trouble with before. And wasn't malicious - I don't even bother to mention my celiac-osity to them because I didn't even think there would be a problem with cross contamination. HAH. Won't be making that mistake again. It was vicious, as if they poured flour straight into their guacam - oop, see, I've already said too much. But any future orders from that place will include the words "WHEAT ALLERGY" right in the instructions so no more attacks will happen.

This was the worst gluten-ache I've had since I started the diet. People often ask what happens if I accidentally ingest gluten, and it's hard to answer. When I was eating it all the time, I got so used to the stomachaches that I wasn't really realizing I had them. I can remember constant stomach pain, and I can remember being exhausted after eating. And I used to get sick a lot more often.

I saw an opportunity through the attack to blog about my experience, trying to give people some sort of information about why celiacs INSIST on following this crazy, inconvenient diet. I decided this of sound mind, when I could feel the attack coming on, and decided to start blogging as soon as I got back from the grocery store - a cherry coke is usually the only way I can soothe my poor tummy.

Halfway through the ten-minute drive to the store, I'm sweating and slouching over from the pain. By the time I made my purchase and got back home, I was only able to scrawl out a few notes of what was going through my mind on a pad of paper. Now, 24 hours later, I will try to decipher them for you:

1. "green stomach"
I'll let you just think about this for a second... yeah. I visualize what happens to my stomach, and in my mind, it's clearly turning green. This happens at the beginning, when I'm starting to recognize that my pain is from an accidental gluten ingestion.

2. "dishrag stomach"
Another visualization as the pain increases. It's a very specific pain, and feels as though someone is trying to wring out my stomach, like a dishrag. It's a bizarre, twisty feeling that is very recognizable and much worse than run-of-the-mill indigestion or monthly menstrual cramps.

3. "gagginess - preparing for vomiting"
Although I have yet to throw up from a gluten attack, it's always bad enough that my body keeps this as a good option to take. My stomach goes to work coating my esophagus, just in case. I can feel it at the back of my throat, which sets off my gag reflex pretty consistently.

4. "gassiness"
Self explanatory.

5."unusual midsection noises"
As if my stomach were trying to actually vocalize something, like, "This is not my normal digestion process, because antibodies are screaming at me and I can't get any work done!!"

6. "achy joints and muscles from trying to stop pain"
The pain starts at my stomach, and constantly feels like it's getting bigger. My entire body kicks in to try and keep it contained to my stomach, and the stress eventually makes everything ache, kind of like I'm having an onset of the flu. It's getting pretty bad at this point - so much so that even my handwriting is getting worse.

7. "tired and cranky"
I've obviously written this after I've put myself on the couch. While sleeping isn't easy in this condition, it's something my body orders me to do. The one thing my brain keeps telling me is to shut down my system for a while so healing can happen before I reboot and try again.

8. "chills and worse pain"
This is the last note. I pulled a fleece blanket out from behind a pillow on the couch and shivered in front of the TV.

So the good news is that this whole process takes anywhere from two to three hours. While it's awful the whole time, it's not enough to derail my entire day. But it does make me pretty nonfunctional, and the most incredible thing I keep thinking of is that for 15 years, I lived with these symptoms EVERY DAY.

I'm not writing this for pity or sympathy - like I said, the fault is really mine for not clearly communicating my dietary needs. But I think it's important to try to spell things like this out to people who can't quite understand, and especially to people who are skeptical that food intolerances even exist. (Yup, they're out there.) There are celiacs currently living with the condition that don't know it, and that have symptoms even worse than this. Living with this disease for years can make you a tired person with little energy for anything. Living with the disease for decades can cause people to suffer neurological symptoms like migraines and even seizures.

I'm fine today - if anything, the relief that goes away after an attack is enough to propel you into a fabulous mood.

It has been surprisingly blustery here the past few days. It's cruel. You get a week of 70 degree weather, all the windows in your house are open, and you think, "Finally! I can shut off the heat!" Then the next day you wake up and walk into the living room and it is FREAKING FREEZING! The sun is out, which means the 45 degree weather may climb a few degrees, but YIKES.

So I'm considering trying my second attempt at pho tonight - it's a lovely, brothy way to warm up. Once the broth has simmered to its full flavor, it's easy to throw in meat, onions, and rice noodles - then you're good to go. And as I sit here hunched over by my computer, with a fleece tucked around me, I can think of nothing but it.

The weather may be different where you are. (Especially since it's MAY.) So, what's for dinner?

Okay, so I've been mysteriously absent from cyberspace. I didn't miss it - I probably check my un-updated blog more than anyone else.

The truth is I've had a tough couple of months. There's been money stuff, diet stuff, BIBS stuff (that's Body Image Bull S**t for those who aren't up on my super cool acronyms), and audition stuff. All of the above also lead to depression stuff, which is something that I have been fortunate enough to avoid for the vast majority of my life. When it shows up, however, I'm never quite sure how to deal with it. It's been overwhelming, and even though I've not ever been at a loss for what to talk about, every time I sat down at the computer everything rushed together at once and clogged the pipes.

I finally figured out that over the next couple of months, I have some seriously good things to look forward to. I'm going to have the opportunity to travel - two festivals at the Oregon Coast, two weeks in Salem, and my beloved Gold Coast festival in Los Angeles, with enough good friends and good music to get me re-energized for the coming year. I get to see some of my dearest friends in a little less than a week. And with the downtime over the summer, I am planning to take in some serious nature. Not to mention that a little less than a month away marks a year of marriage for me and T. We're also planning to travel that day and zip up to Seattle for a baseball game.

I need to remind myself that I've made it through lean summers before, and I've found several low cost activities that have kept me busy: reading, hiking, practicing, cleaning, knitting, cooking, and attempting to learn a little more HTML to feebly keep up my web savviness. Plus I'm managing to poke out some vegetable plants with my balcony garden... they will get a lot of love as well.

So onward and upward! And pretending that the rain outside is not happening and that we're just reliving that week of sunshine we had last week.

It's really, really often that I have students that claim something is hard. But lately, I find another quote coming consistently from my kiddo's mouths: "That's hard for me."

I respond by smiling sweetly and saying something to the effect of, "I know. It's hard for everybody."

There's even a smaller subset of kiddos that go on to explain why it's hard for them: the notes are jumbling up their fingers, they don't feel that they can bow that way, etc. etc. And again, I smile sweetly and respond, "Yup, you're right. That's exactly why it's hard. And practice will make it easier."

I feel kind of proud when I'm able to deflect this well. I think it's a good lesson. It's important to know what you can do in life naturally, what you can do in life with a little bit of work, and the tiny, rare things that you actually can't do. The vast majority of things in life fall into category B - work goes along with life. The natural things are wonderful, and may want to be something that you want to do with your life. But not me...

I know I'm naturally a good listener. I've learned some amazing things about people in the short time I've been on Earth just by listening to them. And I'm excited to learn more - it enriches my life the more I understand about humanity. I'm thrilled about how much I have yet to learn. Does this mean I want to be a psychologist? Nah. Interesting subject, but not enough interest for me.

Music, on the other hand, is something that I need to work at. All the time. Sure, I have some natural talent for my instrument, but it's not nearly enough to carry me. The violin is a challenge, every day, every hour. Music itself constantly leaves itself open to learn more. I can never learn enough, either. No matter how much you study music, there's always something else to do for yourself. Something else to improve upon. And using my knowledge of music and knowledge of life (limited as they both are) to relate the two just thrills me more.

The violin is a hard, hard instrument. And that's why I'm so fascinated by it and the study of music. It's hard for me.

I have trying to research ways to get myself up earlier in the morning. I have no problem waking up when I have something to get to: a class, a doctor's appointment, a flight, etc. But when I have nothing to do until work (which starts at noon or 1:00pm for me these days), it is difficult to get out of bed to do things that I don't have to meet other people for: practicing, exercising, cleaning the apartment, etc.

The easiest way I have seen of getting up early is to have kids. This will not happen for a while, so I'm looking for other motivations. Any ideas? I could try going into it cold turkey, but while I'm waking up and still in bed, I will no doubt convince myself to stay there. (Heck, I've been up for an hour and a half now and I could easily convince myself to go back to sleep for another hour.) Don't get me wrong, I enjoy sleeping in - a lot. But I'm starting to feel like a lazy good-for-nothing who is enjoying her slumber too much, as I'm not getting much done.

I officially turn the floor over to you, dear readers. Any tips or hints would be appreciated!

Aaaaaaguh.... I'm finding it so hard to focus. My mind is wandering much the same way it did back in June when we were a few days away from taking the trip out to Colorado to get married. I mean, come on - THIS is what awaits me Friday morning:



And this Friday afternoon:



And then, HELLO. Saturday:



The only thing missing is some facepaint to plaster the American flag all over my face. The ONE freaking thing I forgot at the store.

I'm sure the Olympic Village has emergency red, white, and blue facepaint for sale... right?

I don't think we realized, as kids, how much power we actually had over adults. All it took were a few well-placed words in a vulnerable situation, and we had those adults wishing they knew what was going inside those tiny little heads of ours.

I'm only starting to realize it myself... all it takes during my lessons with the kiddos is an off-the-cuff comment. I'm personally invested in them as it is, and if they are able to involuntarily poke a nerve, it can really stay with me. It's amazing - kids don't mean it when they poke at a nerve. Adults do the same thing and it's emotional manipulation.

When does that point of understanding come about? I think for most kids, it starts young, with people you know well. We recognize that the cute things we do make our parents happy, and they're less likely to tell us "no" when we're happy, and therefore we act cute more often. We're taught in school at a young age that it's rude to point out things that could be perceived as flaws or insecurities. Pointing out another kid's bad skin or poor reading abilities makes them feel powerless. But where do the more subtle comments turn into manipulations? When can we start to read reactions of others and know we've said something wrong? I know there are still adults who have yet to figure this out... or who love the manipulation. But when a kid does it, they're still learning their own social interaction. And what is our responsibility as adults? Do we shake it off and chalk it up to childhood? Do we tell them they've done something that's stung?

My role as a mentor has plenty of gray areas like this. I have so much to learn.

Amazing what a shower, a change of clothes, a little caffeine, and the right lighting can do to swing your day right around.

We've gotten to GPOYW, and for the first time I decided to participate. I've got a cold that won't go away. I'm stuffy and irritable, and I've got four students today that, while they are delightful, require a lot of energy, which we can CLEARLY see that I don't have.

Here we go, world... HAVE AT YOU!!

WARNING: THERE IS A PROJECT RUNWAY SPOILER CONTAINED HEREIN. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
***
Thursday is good television. When Hubby and I can catch NBC's comedy primetime (minus Leno, of course), we always have fun. Community, Parks and Recreation, The Office, and 30 Rock, while not the strongest combination of shows I've ever seen on NBC's Thursday night lineup, is still a pretty strong block of shows. And afterwards, Lifetime has stuck Project Runway into the perfect post-primetime slot. So it was amusing, when, somewhere during a commercial break of Parks and Rec, Tom looked over at me, and with a mouth full of tuna and rice, commented, "Okay, Jesus is going home tonight."

I just hoped he was right. Not only has Jesus created some dismal designs, but he seems determined that his decisions are the best, and disregards Tim Gunn's comments as if they are not, on most occasions, PURE GOLD. He actually strikes me as quietly snarky. And when last night's challenge was an opportunity to work with REAL women of REAL sizes, he gushed at how tall and skinny his model was, and how easy it was going to be to work with her.

Fool.

It worried me a little when he sent down a wonderfully constructed piece down the runway. It wasn't my favorite, but it seemed well-fit and sparkly, and I thought "Ugh... they might really like it." To my delight, however, Michael Kors saw through his BS, as he seems to have a talent for doing. Jesus got the boot, and Hubby got to show off a smug smile for picking it way ahead of time.

Now it's a little difficult to pick a frontrunner. Amy ended up winning the challenge with a beautiful flowy dress draped in chiffon, but winning a challenge at this point is not too much of a power grab. Emilio has put himself forth as the most critical and bitchy, and if last season is any indication, he'll be the one winning at Bryant Park. I find myself intrigued by Seth Aaron's designs, but they may border on a little too individualized. And I just hope they keep Anthony around for a few more weeks - just for entertainment.

So here's how my dream went down last night:

I had just landed in Australia to visit a good friend of mine who had been living there for a while, and meet her new boyfriend. I got off the plane, feeling jet lagged, and jumped into my own personal transport pod that started down the train tracks. A mellow voice piped in, asking me how I felt. "Just fine. Excited." I responded. The train pod kind of weaved and bounced around a little. "Oh, my," the voice remarked, "Be careful! I understand you're jet lagged, or maybe you're just drunk. I can give you something to make that better, if you'd like."

"Wait... am I controlling this train?"

As if it was painfully obvious, the voice responded, "YES. You steer with your feet!"

Supposedly I was lucky to make it out of there alive. I took the pod all the way to the rental car place, and it was pretty lucky I had the gentle voice telling me how to drive, because it turned out all cars in Australia are driven and steered solely with the feet. I was able to get all the way to the hotel, saw my good friend come out to greet me, and managed to trip over a cell phone charging cord as her boyfriend came out of the room. "Hi," he said in what I suppose could pass as an Australian accent, "I'm Ben."

"Hi, Ben - listen, I want my first impression for you to be a little more graceful. Could you take a few steps back and introduce yourself to me again?"
***
I only had ONE glass of Viognier last night. Where did all this come from??

Okay, I'll say this right here: I totally forgot how many notes Cosi fan Tutte has. I'm usually so good about telling myself to relax, pace myself, and play with limited energy during the operas. I've gotten good enough at it that I don't get tired anymore after playing them.

Except this one! Sixty pages and three and a half hours of fairly continuous playing. Turns out 45-second recitatives don't give us nearly enough rest to stretch out our muscles. I'm mentally AND physically exhausted after a playthrough. It's not often that I reach the last page of anything and think, "I really don't want to play anymore!"



It really is a great show, though. Opera is the only type of theater where there can be six different people talking about six different things simultaneously. My appreciation for the art only grows with every show.

Happy Groundhog Day! I didn't get to sleep last night until 2:00AM.

I have a nostalgic feeling in my muscles now. It's the kind I used to get when I would stay up late studying, practicing, or socializing, then have to get up the next morning for an 8:00AM class. It's interesting how your body counts upon these energy reserves that it must keep storing up. It's a weak and strong feeling at the same time. Like I will totally make it through my busy teaching day with a ton of energy... just as long as I don't exert myself too hard.

Evidently Phil saw his shadow today. That might mean six more weeks of winter on the east coast, but here it's sunny and delightful. This is the kind of weather I moved to Portland for.

Violin piece of the day: Accolaÿ

I've got a student who wants to learn the Accolaÿ concerto in a minor, and I'm more than happy to learn new pieces that my students want to learn. My repertoire growing up, after all, was kind of limited, and it may be a little cruel just to keep them caged inside the pieces I played at their age.

But how did my teachers miss this one??

This is a beautiful segue from the Suzuki book six or so into more complicated concertos and sonatas (Haydn D Major, Beethoven Spring sonata, etc.) While the shifts aren't too complicated and the fast passages fall pretty neatly under the fingers, there are some real musical challenges in this that I would have loved to learn and take on to know how to play concertos better. It's also not a full three-movement-er, just one big movement that takes you pretty logically from fast to slow to fast again, as well as from minor to major. (I can usually live without ending in a major key, but I suppose I'm not totally against it.)

I remember getting lots of little pieces after I got out of the Suzuki books: the first movement of a Bach concerto, the first movement of the Haydn D major, Thaïs Meditation, and Paganini's Moto Perpetuo. All good at gaining a few mega-important skills, but I then found myself thrown into Mozart D Major and Praeludium and Allegro shortly after. I think a few more steps in between would have helped me a little.

Violinists - any more important pieces that can bridge the gap between La Folia and ANYTHING Mozart?

WOW, I am so glad I'm finally on the upswing.

I had one of those weeks where I felt like I was coming down with something flu-like, but had no symptoms except a weakness of muscles, achy shoulders, and a limited appetite. Sleeping in until 1:00pm yesterday and going to bed at 10:00 seemed to help. A LOT. Today was not nearly the blur that yesterday was. I may even have the strength to practice tomorrow.

I KNOW I was sick because I spent all my free time at home asleep - not dinking around on Facebook for hours, not even just laying down on the couch in front of the TV. I didn't leave the bed until I absolutely HAD TO. That's super sick.

The silver lining, if you *really* want to see it, is that since I've gone gluten-free, I don't get sick that often. I've heard that a big chunk of your immune system lies in your gut, and anecdotal evidence now agrees with it. I got something similar to what I'm recovering from about a year ago, right before my Seattle Symphony audition. (My timing really sucked.) I was pretty cloudy during the summer, but from what I can tell, it was all allergies. I also had a sore throat a few months ago, but it turned out that it was a small amount of mold that had collected on my water bottle. And that's about it... even when I spend six days out of the week among kids, many who soak up germs like sponges.

I plan on taking it easy tomorrow, and sleeping in a lot once again. Hopefully by Monday I'll be in tip top shape. Which is good, because I am going to give this NaBloPoMo one more go!! (Well, almost.)

Yes, February is the shortest month of the year, but I want to make up for the DREADFUL attempt I had in December. Besides, with my birthday in February, I often find myself a little more introspective.

I will have to double up a few days, as there will be four days where Hubby and I are taking our honeymoon in Canada. It promises to be memorable, though, and I imagine I will have plenty of fodder.

I've also been digging through my old, old blog posts on Diaryland and downloading them to my hard drive, just in case I can't access the web version someday. Every once in a while I find something that inspires me to write again - something funny, musing, or sad, but most certainly written in a pathetic, selfish tone that I hope one day to find endearing. Once I'm far enough away from the date to pretend someone else wrote it, I think I may.

There's some great and wonderful thoughts in my head. If I give myself a little while, I'm sure I'll find them.

It was one of those normal viola lessons, although my student seemed more impatient than usual. More grumblings, more frustrations, and definitely less focus than normal. He was doing a good job as he normally does, but didn't really seem to think so. We kept on going, and I tried to maintain as positive of an attitude as possible to keep him motivated. At the end we played a very difficult duet that he's been working on for weeks.

After the lesson ended, I patted him on the back and told him good job. I was surprised when he let out a sigh of relief and a huge smile came over his face. "Thank you, I needed that." I waited a moment until he elaborated: "I have been really negative this whole week."

I smiled, saying things could get that way, and encouraged him to keep looking at the positive aspects of his music making. He nodded, thanked me again, packed up his stuff, and left quickly, as he normally does.

I just about teared up. I had no idea my pushing him was making his week better, and not more miserable. We, as teachers, never quite know what effect we're having on our students. It's pretty amazing when they tell us.