Monday, February 28, 2005

I'm a master of blogging!

Hello, Faithful Reader(s)!

I know, I have been absent from cyberspace for a few days. I'm sure none of you noticed. I was home visiting the pholks in Philly. Ok, so my pholks don't exactly live in Philly, but close enough. I was in Philly, auditioning for MORE SCHOOL! Just what I need... more education......

UGH! I don't want to go to school! I want a job! And I want to whine about it! WAAAAAH! That's why I have a blog. So I can whine and people will listen... Oh wait, no one cares. Nevermind.

Right, where was I? Oh yes, I figured out how the links thing works. Please check out the fine blogs below. Spot's Doghouse belongs to RG, who is my one (and maybe only) reader. Things I Hate About My Flatmate is a grand testament to why I live alone. And a really great site for anyone who has ever been passive aggressive about a living situation. Das Mixture is funny-- some really great points are made about corporate America. More blogs to come, as my blogging world expands!

That's all for now, folks. More later, I promise.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Don't ask questions.... or give answers, either.

Don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to.

Don't give answers that you don't really want to be questioned about.


The issue of confidentiality has come up in my life as of late. And I thought it would be nice and ironic to blog about it for the whole world to see.... But seriously, folks, what is confidential anymore? Email and any correspondence are not. My blog isn't. (Duh.) Seems like I've heard a lot about reporters recently who are unwilling to oust their "confidential" sources and are suffering the repercussions.

What is the point of confidentiality? Is it not so that we can speak freely without fear of suffering personal repercussions? If confidentiality really doesn't exist, how can we ever expect honest and true feedback from those whom we are asking questions? So if its a matter of choosing your battles, when does one decide that confidentiality is something worth fighting for? If something was confidential to begin with, there must have been a reason for it. And if it is violated, doesn't that put everyone in a really bad situation? What about the illusion of confidentiality? What if I write something I believe to be confidential and then I get called out on it?

I think that I have learned, as of late, the following:

Don't give answers that you don't really want to be questioned about.

No one cares where you went to school.

Seriously. I'm not kidding.



No one.

The only people who might care:
1.) Your mother. Because she's proud of you.
b.) Other people who went to your school too.
iii.) This guy you met at a festival who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone that was in your friend's freshman music theory class.
4.) You. Because you paid for it.

What brings this up, you ask? Well, I was talking to my friend MCE a few nights ago. MCE is a pretty good undergrad trombonist. I'm constantly encouraging him to audition for summer festivals, take auditions, etc. etc. The other night, MCE thanked me for all the encouragement, saying that no other musician had ever offered him that kind of support. That made me feel pretty good, because I had no idea that what I was saying had such an effect on him. But then, he expressed that he often feels inferior as a musician because of his "background." I think he was saying that because of his experiences in high school and college, he doesn't feel like he is "up to snuff."

And this brings me to something that has always pissed me off: the mentality of the conservatory. Now, I'm not going to go off on a rant and bash conservatories, because they are important parts of the musical world. They are a place where many talented people receive really great schooling and musical experiences. What I do object to, however, is the unspoken implication that these individuals are somehow better than those of us who go to extremely reputable, well-known, liberal arts institutions and get a really great, well-rounded education. One need only hear the tone of awe with which those who don't know the difference between a quarter note and a quarter tone speak about Juilliard to understand what I'm talking about.

I do not regret for one single second the time that I spent in my undergrad at the University of Delaware. Great music school? No. Good music department? Yes. Noted name? Not really. Great experience for me? Definitely. I met some of my best friends in my freshmen dorm, took some good (and bad) classes not within the music department, and knew each of my music professors personally. Heck, by the time I left, I even knew the professors I didn't ever study with on a personal level! I could have joined (or formed) any club I wanted, and was constantly in contact with a diverse group of individuals with interests that were completely different from mine. And my experience at UW is no different. Do I take advantage of a lot of these opportunities? Honestly, not really. I'm pretty focused on music and what I want to do. But constantly being around people who don't share my interests is probably a lot more beneficial than believing that everyone in my reality is a music major who really wants to talk about the third movement solo in Beethoven 6.

Its like that Eleanor Roosevelt quote, "No one can make you feel inferior but YOU." When it comes down to a screened audition, not one person on that committee will even have the ability to ask you where you went to school, even if they did care. Do they care that you, as a UW alum, play better or worse than Candidate 24, a (insert conservatory name here) alum? Nope. They care that you play better/worse than Candidate 24 because they are trying to hire the most qualified candidate, the best musician, for their orchestra. Does having a degree from (insert conservatory name here) matter from behind the screen? Not one single bit.

What I have come to realize, and what I hope that MCE realizes, is that the playing field levels out. Stuff that matters when you are in school really doesn't matter once you are out of it. There are great players everywhere. There are crappy players everywhere, too. And once you get out there and start doing music as a career, you realize that no one cares where you went to school, except perhaps the four people I mentioned above. And those people can't make me feel inferior, no matter how hard they try.

Templates, templates

I only have one reader, so I guess he's the only one who would notice that I changed my template. I actually changed it about four times, but I thought this one was a little more "me" than the busy one seen previously.

That's what I learned to do today. Change templates. Super easy.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

I bought Emmanuel Ax coffee last week.

It was decaf, with sweetener. Small, from Espresso Royale right across from the Overture Center. (Today I am teaching myself to do a links on my blog. Please bear with me.)

For those who don't know, Emmanuel Ax is one of the greatest living piano players. Check out his website to find out all the "vital stats" of his career and playing. But suffice it to say that I have always been incredibly impressed with his musicianship. I love the sound of the piano. I love the variety of things that you can do with a piano. It's all the same instrument, the same 88 keys, but the likes of Emmanuel Ax or Diana Krall can sit down and they sound totally different. Yet the same, too. The piano just speaks to the soul, I think. And when Mr. Ax plays, even if you don't love classical music, it can speak right to your heart. It just gets right in there and pulls on your heart strings; you know that it is something special.

So when he performed Brahms 2nd piano concerto with the Madison Symphony Orchestra a few weeks ago, I was thrilled to just be near him. When my boss was out of town and I had to run the concerts, I was pretty happy just to knock on his dressing room door and say "Five minutes, Mr. Ax."

You never quite know if an artist is going to be a human or not. When you reach the levels of fame that Mr. Ax has reached within the classical music world, us peons aren't sure if we're dealing with a diva or not. Is he going to be super demanding, or is he going to be pleasant and accomodating? I was thrilled to find out that Mr. Ax is most certainly the latter. On the night of his first rehearsal in Madison, he asked me to get him some fried rice and potstickers from Chins. That was fun. So he gave me $10 and I went on my merry way.

During one of his performances, when he arrived he said that he was going to go out to get some coffee and I offered to get it for him. He said that would be great if I didn't mind doing it. (Mind? Me? Of course not!) But when he pulled out his wallet, I asked if I could please buy his coffee for him. He said that of course that wasn't necessary. So I looked at him and I said, "Look, if you let me buy you the coffee, its going to give me something to talk about for the next week. Please." And he giggled at me, and he let me.

For the record, there is decaf in the green room, but its really crappy. And then I wouldn't have had an excuse for this story. "I gave Emmanuel Ax directions to the green room in Overture" isn't nearly as cool or (slightly) glamorous as "I bought Emmanuel Ax coffee."

Its nice to find out that you can be a really successful musician/pianist/recording artist with immense musical integrity... and you can still be human. Mr. Ax, you're my hero.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Perpetually smiling.

As you all can see, I learned how to post pictures. Yes, there I am. Perpetually smiling for all the world to see.

I was clicking that ubiquitous "Next Blog" tab that appears in the upper right had corner of the screen whenever you're on Blogger. I realized that mostly, no one else has anything valuable to say either. That made me feel a little less silly about having a blog. I also realized that I'm glad I'm not 13 anymore. (Although some of those kids are really great with Blogger! They know how to use all the bells and whistle functions, while I'm stuck here in my pajamas wondering how to post a picture or change a font face!)

And yes, it is 8:00 pm on a Saturday night and I'm in my pajamas. And this is a great segue into my next rant: I think I might have turned boring. I went out with SK, RFS, and BC last night after the concert and SK said, "I'm so glad you came out! You never come out with us!" And she said it in that "I'm young and I go out all the time and I always ask you to come along but you always say no" sort of way.

And I had to wonder what I've been doing all this time. Sure, some nights I work, but I don't think she's refering to those nights. I think she's refering to all those nights I just came home and sat my butt on the couch and "didn't feel like going out" again. When did I get so lame? I like bars. I like beer and drinks. I like hanging out with my friends, bitching about life, laughing about all the stupid shit that happens to me. I like getting a little buzz from a glass or two of white wine. Why have I been turning down what I now think are A LOT of offers to go out? I'm not talking about getting shit-faced... I'm just talking about going out and meeting my friends and talking. And why am I not inviting them out? Why am I not initiating parties and get-togethers?

I used to go out a lot when I worked in the restaurant industry. I think it sort of goes with the territory. When you work in fine dining and you spend the whole evening serving high maintenance people and pretending to be nice to them, you need a drink after its all over. So you hit the pubs on the way home. But now I work in management for a symphony and I spend the rest of my time practicing horn, so it doesn't have quite the same necessity as it did when I worked with/for the general public.

When did I get so lame, and how can I fix it?


That's me, folks. If I look a little cold, that's because when you stand next to a lake in Wisconsin in December, its cold. Make a mental note of that.  Posted by Hello

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Fonts are Fun.

Today I am learning how fonts work on blogger.

I don't want to move to Israel.

Partly because I'm not Jewish...

But I'd really like a job as a horn player in America. My mom would like that too.

Anyway, I have a recital tomorrow and I hate Valentine's Day. And I might move to Israel. That's about all that one could garner from my blog so far. And, for tonight, I'm going to leave it that way.

Love sucks.

My "BFF" LB told me that tonight she spent two hours moping on her bed about being single on Valentine's Day.

Is it any wonder that I HATE Valentine's Day? I mean, really, LB is a fabulous, funny, smart, beautiful girl who just happens to be fabulously single. Yet for some reason, she's being made to waster her time feeling bad about herself because she doesn't have a man to exacerbate and annoy her.

"Um, hello, Society? Yeah, this is Lauren calling. Just wanted to tell you to FUCK OFF for making my fabulous friend feel shitty."

Monday, February 07, 2005

Not that anybody cares, but....

I have a blog. Wow. This is so... um... exhibitionistic. (Is that a word? It is now! HAHA, I have used that word on my BLOG, therefore, it must exist!)

Ok, so no one really cares about my pitsy little life in Madison, WI (soon to be Philadelphia or Jerusalem) but I'm going to write about it anyway.

Why? you ask...

Perhaps because I have nothing better to do.