Best of the Decade

Believe it or not, the first decade of the new millennium is coming to a close. What better way to celebrate than to make a list of my favorite things of the decade?

In no particular order:

1. Fondant. When the decade began, I didn't even know this delicious sugary substance existed. Then I started watching those cake challenge shows, and then I tasted it. OMG, it's wonderful. You can form it into different shapes and then eat it, and cover cakes with it and then eat it. YUM.

2. HBO. I remember when this station just showed the same crappy twelve movies over and over again (I'm looking at you, Just One of the Guys). Now it produces tons of amazing original programming that I love (or have loved). HBO is a force to be reckoned with in entertainment. Good on you, channel.

3. Harry Potter. What would my decade have been without these books (I read the first one in fall of 2000), these movies, and the four HP conferences I attended? HP introduced me to online friends, real life friends, and a group of characters who have inspired me. Truly a life-changer.

4. Cate Blanchett. She's been in everything from Lord of the Rings to Benjamin Button to I'm Not There. How the hell is she so good in everything? You can add Kate Winslet to this one because she too is amazing and chameleon-like and was in one of my favorite movies of the decade: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

5. George Clooney. Michael Clayton and Up in the Air are just two fantastic movies he was involved with this decade. Add Christian Bale to this list entry because he is the hardest working man in show business.

6. YouTube. It has changed the way we do a lot of stuff. You want to hear a commercial jingle or see an old commercial, you can. If you want to share your kid's dance recital with the world, you can. If you want to see Beyonce slip on stage and get right back up like the diva she is, you can. It's changed my teaching because my students can now watch--for free--different versions of the songs we are studying. They can see great performances and hopefully learn from them.

7. The Daily Show. I missed out on this for years, but now that I can enjoy it every night, it's really changed the way I look at news. It's actually encouraged me to pay attention to what's going on in the world and it's helped me figure out how I really feel about issues. I'd been ignoring my own opinions for so long, I almost forgot I had any. But I do. I really do.

8. Writing. Has saved my life. More than once.

9. USC. Where I spent the first half of the decade. No matter where I travel in the world, no matter where I end up, I'll always be a Trojan. Doheny Library will always feel like home.

10. Rock Band. I can play the pretend drums now. There are certain songs that I will associate with Rock Band forever because of how much fun I had playing them with my band, Monkey Deathcar.

11. Dave Chapelle. He did some really funny stuff this decade, and may be the funniest man of the last 10 years. Not so funny when he disappeared, but his stand up and the Chapelle show will live on as hilarious monuments.

12. Pixar. What a magical company. Everything movies should be.

13. Facebook. On any given day, I can see a status line from: current students, former students, work buddies, family, college friends, high school friends, or friends-of-friends. This kind of connectivity is amazing. Even though I don't spend an awful lot of time on Facebook, it's good to know I can communicate with people so easily.

14. Judd Apatow. His movies have made me laugh so much in the last decade. You can add all of his "peeps" to this list entry, like Seth Rogan, et al.

15. Freedom. I don't have the words to describe what freedom feels like. The last year of this decade has been an eye-opener.

16. I just know I forgot a million things, so let's just keep this one as a place-holder.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Holiday Newsletter

I know some people hate the holiday newsletter because it is impersonal, but I have a fondness for holiday newsletters, especially the ones that catch me up on the people I love. I've decided to write one this year, right here, in this blog. I think it's a good way to tell friends and family what the year was like for me, but it's also a good way for me to step back and get the big picture of 2009.

Many holiday newsletters feature lots of information on pets and babies. Since I have neither, I will tell you about other people's babies in this paragraph. My sister had a daughter in August, bringing my total of gorgeous, brilliant niece/goddaughters up to TWO. Yes! My friend Cat (who is like a sister) is expecting a baby next year. Steve and Colleen continued to raise their adorable children, April and Michael. April is about to turn one, and Michael has grown into quite a little man.

That's all I got on babies and I didn't even mention animals, so the rest is about me. Sorry about that.

Okay, job stuff: I continued to work at LACC full time. It's a great job and I am really thankful to have it--and not just because the economy sucks. It's one of the most fulfilling, amazing jobs I could imagine, and I'm thrilled to tell you that I passed my last tenure review earlier in the fall. I won't get tenure officially until March or so, but it appears to be a fait accompli. I hope it's accompli, anyway. In addition to the regular job, I also wrote program notes. I wrote for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra for the third year in a row and began writing notes for Camerata Pacifica. I did a couple of little jobs for the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra too. I began a tutoring job at Compass Education Group. I now tutor the verbal side of the SATs. Can you believe that? It's a terrific job and I've met some fantastic young people. I cantored at St. Brendan's until November, when I took a leave of absence, but I'm planning to start back up in January.

Other work-type stuff: I decided to try to kickstart my voice-over career by doing some radio broadcasting. For about six months, I did a half-hour weekly music show on KCLA. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot. It turned out to be one-thing-too-many, so I decided to stop for a while. I have some good clips of myself, so that'll be good when I get around to making up a demo CD for voice-over work. I still hold out hopes of voicing a cartoon character someday. I've been writing as well. In addition to this blog and the LACO blog, I finished writing my second YA novel. In the new year, I hope to start looking for an agent...again. Perhaps I will be more successful this time. I proposed an academic book to a publishing house, but have not yet heard their rejection, er, response. I'm not holding my breath, though. What else? Oh yeah! I wrote and presented yet another Anthony Burgess paper, and that brings me to my next paragraph!

Travel: The big adventure this year was going to Malaysia. The Anthony Burgess people had a symposium there because Burgess used to live and work in Malaysia (we actually got to see the school where he taught and even his old apartment!). It was a terrific trip, and my paper went very well. It's going to be published in a book at some point. Which reminds me, I forgot to mention that another Burgess article I wrote made it into a very new, very expensive book called Anthony Burgess: Music in Literature and Literature in Music. You can buy it if you have sixty dollars (or forty pounds). Anyway, back to Malaysia. It was very hot, but the food was excellent, and I ate roti prata every chance I got, including at the KL airport on the way home. I could not get enough of that stuff! I didn't fly straight home from Malaysia, though, I flew into San Francisco and drove five hours up into the mountains to see my friends Kevin and Sara get married amongst the tall pines. Lovely event. A couple of weeks later, I was visiting New York and my family. I was there when my sister had the aforementioned baby. That was also a terrific trip.

An added bonus of that trip was that, while I was there, my roommate visited New York for the very first time. I showed him around and got to do New York-y things I never get to do when I'm visiting family. We even got to play chopsticks on the FAO Schwartz floor keyboard featured in the movie, Big. The trip was a lot of fun even though I visited during the hottest, most humid part of August. I forgot how much humidity sucks. I did get to hang out with my old friend Michele, which was brilliant. We've grown back together somewhat, and I'm very happy about that, same with my old friend, Lara.

I went to a conference with my work colleagues in November. It had been a while since I had been to San Francisco and it was nice to go back, although upon arrival, I caught a terrible cold and spent most of the weekend resting up. One HUGE bonus was getting to hang out with Cat, whose husband Kevin now works full time at a community college in Fresno. We did a lot of catching up. I also did a lot of sneezing.

I'm still lucky enough to live with T, who is a great roommate and an excellent cook. This year, I got back into eating beef and pork (after 18 years), and T has helped me ease back into it with pork chops and steaks and pot roast and a lot of yummy things I missed. Food aside, T continues to be a wonderful, supportive friend. Another amazing supportive friend? Cael. We meet for ice cream dates at Scoops (AMAZING ice cream place by school) as often as possible. Their vegan banana oreo is to die for.

Still staying social, but trying not to spread myself too thin. The year had plenty of parties and opportunities to meet new people, and I made some new friends. I'm not back in the dating game, per se, although I'm not entirely opposed to the idea. In other news, I sang a recital in March which went very well. I'm happy with how I sounded and I got a beautiful response from my students and colleagues. The auditorium was packed with people, and it felt wonderful to be sharing music with such a loving group. 

I feel like I must be leaving out a hundred things, but I suppose that's all I can think of at the moment. That's 2009. It was a very good year. I hope yours was similarly filled with love and friends and work. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and a very Happy New Year!! Let's make the next one even better. 

XOXO

me

Momentum

Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up early and and spend the day accomplishing everything on your list? I mean, you are just knocking those errands out, crossing things off the to-do list like crazy, because you, my friend, have momentum. On the other hand, have you ever had a day when you just couldn't get started? When, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't get the lawn-mower working no matter how many times you pulled that cord? The difference is momentum.

Lots of things can hamper momentum. On a small scale, fatigue can make it hard to get going. Sickness can do the same. Having a bad day or running into a person who just saps all of your energy are also culprits. On a large scale, momentum can be hampered by fear, depression, or anger: the same three things Yoda warns Luke about when they're having their whole "Dark Side" convo. Do you have any idea how many people in the world don't follow their dreams or stay at their dehumanizing jobs because of these three things? The only kind of momentum you're going to find under these conditions is the kind that leads you right down into the pit of despair and, below that, good old rock bottom. Angry people are too pissed off to get anything useful done. Fearful people are too afraid to do anything. Depressed people aren't your movers and shakers. When these obstacles lie in your path, you have to do whatever you can to remove them. Life moves. It does, and in order to move with it, you need some momentum.

Right about the time I started my dissertation, my friend D was finishing hers. She mentioned to me that there would come a time in my dissertation-writing--towards the end--where I would feel a wave of momentum carrying me to the end. I was still at the beginning, so I didn't really know what she was talking about, but damn it if she wasn't right. Somewhere, after all the initial research is done, after the chapters have been laid out and sketched out and drafted, there is a wave that carries you to the last word. You'd think that would be the point at which you are the most tired, the most depleted of your resources, and you are. You absolutely ARE! But then, it's like those runners who get that last kick in just before the end of the race. I don't know if it's a rush of adrenaline once you see the end is in sight, or if you finally find your way through to what you want to say, but it's a unique feeling.

Since I finished writing my dissertation four years ago, I've had a few friends call me up for advice on how to keep going, how to keep the mometum up, while writing a dissertation. It's a lonely long-term project that requires a lot of self-discipline, so I understand why one might need some sideline cheerleading now and then. When I get calls or emails like this looking for help, I always tell my friends, keep your head down and keep working while you wait for that final kick. Don't anticipate when it will come. Don't keep looking back over your shoulder for it. Just keep your eyes on the prize and trust it will carry you away. When you're at the end of your mental and physical resources, your momentum will take you home.

I'm late posting this blog because I myself am feeling that momentum. I am very close to the end of my second YA novel. I am, in fact, within pages of the ending. A couple of thousand words away from the resolution. And I can feel it. I can feel an inevitable pull, a great wave of momentum to the end. I've been feeling it since I hit 42,000 words. Like a magnet getting closer to another magnet, I know the nearer I get, the more forceful the pull will get. So even though I know I must teach and pack for my conference and grade papers and do the dishes, that momentum will take me to the last word whenever I have a few hours to sit in front of my computer.

I can't tell you how much I missed this feeling.

The Good Old Days

I can't believe I'm saying this, but many moons ago, when I was growing up, the world was a very different place. The internet didn't exist, and the home computers my family owned (the Commodore Vic-20 and the Commodore 64) had less memory than your typical iPhone app. The part of Queens where I lived didn't get cable until I was in my teens, and the best we could do for On Demand viewing was our VHS collection and trips to Future Video. I grew up on books, network TV, and video games that were laughably simple. In the summer time, when there was "nothing to do," my sister and I read Mad Magazine, wrote comedy sketches, and watched Raiders of the Lost Ark.

For fun, I made crafts that I found in a volume of our Children's Encyclopedia or elsewhere. I mixed flour and water together to make dough. I made sun pictures. (Put shapes on construction paper and then put the paper in the sun. The sun fades the exposed construction paper and leaves the parts you covered the original color.) My sister and I melted crayon wax into bottlecaps to make gliders for a street game called Skully. (Wikipedia has a page for this game, I can't believe it! Apparently, it's regional to New York.) I used sidewalk chalk to make hop scotch boards. I jumped rope, and played handball against the side of the house. I collected leaves. Whenever I was bored, I knew it was up to me to get un-bored. Luckily, adventure was as close as the public library or the stack of books in my room. My sister and I got along well and entertained each other. We also visited our friends' houses and went for pizza in the neighborhood.

I didn't have cable, a cell phone, the internet, or an iPod. For school papers, I looked stuff up in the good old Collier's Encyclopedia. My mother often helped me type up my reports on a heavy electric typewriter we kept on a rolling metal table. If you look at the way children grow up now, it's a lot different. When my niece is bored, she goes on the computer and plays the games on the Nickelodeon website. If her TV shows aren't on for some reason, my sister can find play a DVD of her favorite series or turn to On Demand. When I was young, I was at the mercy of the television schedule. When The Price is Right was over at noon, The Young and the Restless came on, and that meant there was nothing on until Little House on the Prairie at 5:00. I'd walk to the television set (no remotes, you see) and turn it off for a few hours.

You might be thinking at this point that I'm about to get to a place where I say kids have it so easy today, but I'm not. Or you might think I'm going to declare how much better it was back then because it was a simpler time. I'm not saying that either, necessarily. What I am saying is that a childhood, whether spent playing skully, World of Warcraft, or tiddlywinks, is a special time. It shapes you in ways that are difficult to quantify. I still think Play Doh is pretty cool. I still like to do crafts, only now I get my ideas off the internet. I still turn off the TV in the middle of the day--a long holdout from the days when Soap Operas were all that the networks played between 12 and 5. If I see a hopscotch board drawn on the sidewalk in my neighborhood, I WILL jump and hop my way through it. Future Video has been replaced with the much more convenient and forgiving Netflix, and VHS has become DVD (and probably soon, BluRay). Reading is still one of my favorite activities, although if I want to own a book, I buy it online from Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

My childhood was very low-tech compared to the childhoods happening now, but that's okay. It was a rich childhood regardless. I don't begrudge today's kids their online encyclopedias or texting or DVDs of their favorite shows. I won't say I'm a better person for having had less technology when I was growing up, but I will say it's helped me to appreciate what I have now even more. And far from making me feel further away from my past, the internet can help me experience parts of my childhood again. I can buy the Weeble's Treehouse on eBay. I can watch old commercials on YouTube. For this blog, I wanted to find out the correct spelling of "skully," so I Googled it, and found Wikipedia has a page dedicated to it, a chain of events that made me incredibly giddy. In writing this blog, I am using the internet to do something else I enjoy: reminiscing about the "old days." 

But that's enough of a stroll down memory lane for now. Or is it? Excuse me while I go search on eBay for that metal BeeGees lunchbox I used to carry around in kindergarten.

The Hope Jolt

Do you remember when you were a child, and your birthday was coming up, and you'd think ahead to your birthday party or a present you hoped to get, and you'd feel a shot of excitement and anticipation? Maybe you, like me, got that feeling as Christmas approached, or on the occasions when I knew I was going see my cousins. Let's call that feeling the Hope Jolt. As we get older the Hope Jolt gets dulled. We still get excited about things, but if we're excited about, say, a trip to the lake, our excitement is tempered by the packing we need to do, our time away from work, the stress of travel.

Lately, however, I've felt the Hope Jolt, but here's the thing: it doesn't appear to be connected to any specific event. I'll have these moments when I feel a rush of promise, when the world suddenly seems to make sense--even just for a second, and when I can see around the edges of the mundane to something great. Spectacular, even. But it's nothing that I can name specifically. It's just a feeling a get sometimes.

My life consists of a fair amount of work, some fun, and a lot of everyday stuff: laundry, cooking meals, cleaning up. It's weird to be folding clothes and then all of a sudden feel the universe click into place around you, and then have the feeling disappear again just as quickly. I have a theory, though, a reason for why this seems to be happening more recently. The truth is, I can't know what life has in store for me. Triumphant or tragic, I just have no idea what's coming up. I can make plans, and I can work and do everything in my power to make things happen, but the fact remains that unforeseen situations will arise to change my plans. Perhaps the Hope Jolt is a signal from somewhere--maybe it's just from inside of me--reminding me that the future will change my plans, but that it may change them for the better.

A friend once told me, if we got the things we wanted in just the way we imagined, how boring that would be for us! The Hope Jolt is the promise that sometimes--not all the time, but every once in a while--something incredibly good and unforeseen will make things turn out even better than we could have imagined. Or maybe we'll just end up following a path we didn't really expect to follow, but in the end, the path leads to greater success, more love, more friendship, or financial security, who knows?

We've all heard stories of the unexpected ruining plans: the jury duty summons that canceled the vacation, the car repairs that drained the Christmas money, the broken arm that spoiled the summer, the lay-off that put just about everything in jeopardy. We hardly ever recognize the times that the unexpected actually helped us along, partially because those unexpected benefits often start out as those very same disappointments. We don't know until much, much later that the lay-off prompted the move to a better job, or that the guy sitting next to you in the emergency room the day you broke you arm will actually introduce you to the person who will help you get that dream project off the ground.

The truth is, seeing the links between disappointments and future successes is difficult. And seeing the true nature of an unexpected situation is nearly impossible. The Hope Jolt is just a reminder that good things do happen. Sometimes it's the obvious lottery win, and sometimes it's much more subtle. So feel excited every now and then. Feel like your birthday is coming up because there is greatness afoot. You just might not know it yet. 

DecaAwesome Returns

Just in time for Halloween, the DecaAwesome list rises from the dead!! It's not exactly the Zombie DecaAwesome list, but that's a good idea for a themed list later in the month. This is a list of things I just plain like. It's been a stressful month so I think it's a good idea to remember some of the simple joys in life. Also, I watched Amelie last night and I always feel so inspired and whimsical when I watch that movie. Damn you and your irrepressible charm, Audrey Tatou!!

1. Reading a magazine backwards. Sure, I start out by reading it front to back, but soon I turn to the back cover and page through it backwards. I still read articles in order of course, but the paging is done back-to-front. I don't know why I do it, but it makes me happy, so there.

2. Being finished with grading. I love seeing that stack of newly graded papers, each one marked up and ready to be returned to its owner. I spent hours earlier today grading a midterm and I can't explain that wash of joy when the last paper was graded and out of my hands. Accomplishment!

3. The Daily Show. I get a lot of news from the Daily Show, I'm not ashamed to admit. TDS makes me laugh and throws down some facts. Also, Jon Stewart's comic rage is pure genius. This week, TDS is on a break. *sigh*

4. Reading a book that goes down easy. Sure, Proust is worth the effort, and Dostoevsky will break your head while it's breaking your heart, but it's nice every once in a while to read something that doesn't, you know, challenge so much. A book that you eat up like a plate of cookies. I'm reading a book like that right now, and I'm enjoying it very much. Proust is in the on-deck circle.

5. Chocolate. True chocolate lovers will call me a poseur since I don't like dark chocolate, but those people can jump in the lake. I bought myself a Cadbury Caramello on Saturday and I've spent the last few nights eating pure chocolate-caramel joy, three squares at a time. YUM.

6. Trader Joe's. It's not my normal grocery store since I have to drive a ways to get to a decent one, but last night I decided it was time to go and get those products exclusive to Trader Joe's. I won't bore you with a list-within-a-list of what was purchased, but I will tell you that after my roomie and I returned from TJ's, he made a kick-ass salmon dinner that was paired beautifully with a $7 Riesling. Ah, TJ's.

7. Binder clips. It's wrong how into office supplies I am, but there we are. Staples now has this paper clip station wherein you can fill a tub (small, medium, or large) with binder clips, paper clips, fasteners, and the like. I filled a medium tub with whimsical and practical clips (some are shaped like G clefs!) for school. The clip I most often use is the red one with the "X" on it. I put my to-be-graded papers in it. When they're graded, the papers get transferred to the green binder clip with the check mark on in. That's how you know they're done!

8. Glade Scented Oil Candles. They come in a pretty tin, which, is pretty much all I need; I love tins. Anyhoo, you burn these little candles and they smell wonderful without being too strong or cloying. The tin is reusable, and you can get refills for the candles. My recommended scent: Clean Linen. Pretty much says it all. You get the smell of laundry without actually having to do any. WIN!

9. Half.com. I just bought some DVDs I've been putting off buying because they were never going on sale. You can get things both new and used, and it's part of eBay so you know you can trust it. I now own all of Samurai Jack, and season 4 of Supernatural. Take that, Target, for not putting it on sale. Now some independent seller in Minnesota gets my money and you get the shaft! (I'm just kidding, Target. We cool.)

10. Fall weather. The weather over here is a little bipolar at the moment, but that's okay. We have experienced beautiful fall weather intermittently. I'm no fan of winter, and I know that's what fall leads into, but it is such a wonderful thing to walk around in the crisp autumn air, wearing a sweater or a jacket. Fall means crunching leaves when you walk, watching TV at night with a blanket tucked around your feet, buying fresh apple cider at the supermarket, deciding on a Halloween costume, roasting pumpkin seeds, and making holiday plans. It's lovely.

Confessions of a Quidditch Player

I never played organized sports as a kid. Not really. I suppose you could count gym class and some catch and stickball with my Dad and sister, but that's about as far as it went. I have one trophy from my first eighteen years and it's for choir. Yeah, I'm that girl. I played intramural soccer and volleyball in high school, but that was more of a joke than anything. Sometime during college, I got it into my head that I was going to play on the softball team, but one introductory meeting later I realized I couldn't make the time commitment. After college I studied martial arts, but team sports were still definitely missing from my resume.

Last weekend I saw Whip It, the roller derby movie starring Ellen Page. It's a fun movie, perhaps a bit long and formulaic at points, but still a rollicking good time. It made me want to join a roller derby team, and I was heartened by the portrayal of players who were still rolling at my age. I probably won't join a team since I work so damn much (and if I find something else to take me away from writing, my head might explode). But still, that sense of camaraderie and girl power and ass-kicking fun is so tempting. Driving home from the movie, it occurred to me that I had participated in some similar ass-kicking fun.

I've played Quidditch.

Readers of the Harry Potter series and viewers of the movie will at present protest that Quidditch is a magical sport, impossible for Muggles, impossible without brooms, enchanted bludgers, and the golden snitch. Magical Quidditch is indeed impossible, but Muggles have come up with ways to play it (yes, there are multiple versions) and I have had the honor to play four times. Each time I played it was while attending a Harry Potter convention. The first was in Orlando about six or seven years ago when we were still working out how to play Quidditch. We played inside the hotel in a ballroom. On this occasion, I didn't play on a team, per se; I was a snitch-carrier. Since our snitches didn't fly, we had to run with them while the seekers chased us. There were a few snitch carriers and we carried either decoy snitches or the real deal.

A few years later, I played Water Quidditch at the Harry Potter convention in Las Vegas. My team was The Giant Squids (we called ourselves the "Squiddies") and we played and practiced in the gorgeous pool at the hotel. I was a beater on this team, but I substituted as a keeper for one of our games. I liked Water Quidditch a lot, but my favorite kind of Quidditch is Mud Quidditch.

It was October of 2005, in Salem, Massachusetts. The Saturday of the Quidditch tournament dawned gray and chilly. All of the teams in the tournament met at the House of the Seven Gables for a special breakfast. My team: the Punctuation Pixies. Our logo features a tough-as-nails pixie giving y'all the finger (the British version). We had met the previous day in person for practice and strategizing, but we'd all met months ahead of time on the interwebs. All of us are writers and/or artists so the physical part of the game was not our strong suit. Where we owned was in the attitude.

For some reason, the Pixies had a reputation as a badass team right off the bat, even though all of our people were nerds and dorks. We probably had one real athlete on the team, but there we were, with a huge cheering section. Our fans screamed the loudest and threw glitter on us as we took the field. We chanted "Mud and Blood" to get psyched up before our matches, and when people took our picture we gave 'em the finger (the British version). The rain that came down even before we started the tournament couldn't dampen our amazing pixie-ness. Or maybe it was just the sugar; we chugged pixie sticks throughout the game. We played our little dork hearts out. We played in the mud as hard as we could. Did we score? Not a single point. Not once. In either of our games. But we were ebullient anyway. After our final defeat, we dove headfirst into the mud on the pitch and rolled around, laughing and screaming and having an awesome time.

The Fizzing Whizbees ended up winning the Quidditch Cup that day, but guess which team made the front page of the Oracle (the daily paper for the convention) under the headline "MUD AND BLOOD!!" That's right, the Punctuation Pixies scored the place of honor. In addition to that, on the way from the park back to the convention (the tournament was played in a public park nearby) people began stopping us--for our autographs. Yes, the losingest, muddiest team in the tournament signed so many autographs on the way back to the hotel that the mud on our bodies hardened into a cement-like substance. Not only that, but NPR interviewed us as did some local television show. At the leaving breakfast at the end of the convention, the Fizzing Whizbees got the Quidditch Cup, but the Pixies got the most applause.

Two years after that I had the opportunity to play for the Pixies again in New Orleans. We played in a park on the banks of the Mississippi. We lost again, but once again, we didn't care because it was ass-kicking fun.
This is a frame-grab of me playing Quidditch in New Orleans. This was the moment after I made my only save of the day. It's from a video that MTV News shot (I still can't believe they managed to film my only athletic move ever). It's still up on the web, and this is the thumbnail that advertises the story. I think that's pretty cool.

Thousands, probably millions, of kids have played soccer and little league. My team sport? Quidditch. How many people can say that?

...And Together We'll Be Fine

It is indeed a blessing that there are different personalities in the world and that there are people who like and excel at different kinds of things. I just spent the last six working days in jury duty, and during that time I watched lawyers and judges hustling through downtown with their file folders. Suits and shiny ties on the men, suits and painfully high heels for the women. I watched these folks going through their day-to-day jobs and I thought to myself, 'If I had to do this every day, I'd end it all.' It's not the suits so much, I wear them myself sometimes (although I prefer jeans and I refuse to wear heels unless it's a really special occasion). It's not the research that bothers me either. I love research. And libraries. No, it's the rest of the job. I don't have the stomach to argue every day. When I talk to groups of people the only thing I want hanging in the balance is knowledge, not someone's fate. I also lack the command of logic that I think might be necessary for lawyering. I assume it's necessary since that's what the LSAT tests. I'm decidedly illogical and often silly. I'm just glad those lawyers and judges do their jobs, and perhaps love doing their jobs, because lawyering and judging are not the jobs for me.

Likewise, I don't think I could work in an office 9-5 every day. I worked in an office all through college and afterwards. A few summers ago I temped for an agency that sent me out as an executive assistant for bigwigs in television production. I hated it. I hated making copies and setting up meetings. I hated rolling calls. I hated being told what to do all the time. I hated being "on-call" for someone else. It's not an existence I am comfortable with. But there are people who excel at such things, who pride themselves on their organization, their ability to predict what will need to be done, who thrive on the pressure to get things done right now. And I salute those people, because I am not one of them.

The job I feel most comfortable in is teaching. Unlike the office jobs that seemed a bit unreal to me at the time--why am I doing this? who is this helping? I never see or meet anyone affected by my work--teaching always seems so real to me. It's happening right now. It's alive and unpredictable. Teaching means interacting with people. In some ways, it's performing. I suppose that's one reason why people might not want to have my job. It requires public speaking, the ability to ad-lib and think on your feet. Patience is not a requirement, but it sure does help. I love doing it because the gratification is almost instant, and the payoffs are huge.

When jury duty was finally over yesterday, I sighed with relief. I didn't have to return to the courthouse again. I could get back to my life and back to the job that I am supposed to have. It was good to see how other people live, though. Good to see bailiffs, judges, attorneys, clerks, court reporters, and police officers all doing their jobs. Even though I'm not at the courthouse today, it's business as usual over there. Juries are being selected, the unwieldy vehicle that is the American justice system rolls on. But I'm here and I don't miss being there.

Besides, they'll call me back for a visit soon enough.

What A Mind Looks Like

A few years ago I saw an unremarkable movie called Dreamcatcher. It's based on an unremarkable book by Stephen King (I love some of King's books; this one was okay--not great, but okay). The one thing about the film that really stuck with me, though, is the representation of a particular character's mind.In the course of the film, this character--Jonesy--is invaded by an alien parasite. The alien wants to find out specific information from this character and reads his mind. But Jonesy's mind is like a warehouse with file cabinets, and he is able to hide the "file" the alien is looking for. The scenes in the mind were my favorite and they got me to thinking about what the inside of my mind might look like.

I can tell you this: it's probably sloppy. Sloppy, but organized. I have a system, but only I know how it works. I'm thinking that it's like the attic of an old house. Some slats in the roof are missing, so a decent amount of light streams in, but there are plenty of dark, dusty corners too. I'm guessing that there are probably file cabinets in there, you know, to keep the facts straight. I imagine a file cabinet full of all the stuff I learned in elementary school. I have a file for the times tables, a file for all the religious stuff I learned in Catholic schools like Holy Days of Obligation, the Seven Sacraments, the Seven Deadly Sins, etc. There's a file full of mathematical formulas like the Pythagorean theorem, BaseXRate=Part, the quadratic equation (I can't see that last one real well. I think this part of the attic has water damage).

In a brighter corner, there's a big basket full of songs. It's not organized in any way, but everything is easily accessible. I imagine that each song looks like an Atari cartridge, and that each day, a different cartridge gets shuffled into the song player. There is always music playing in my head. My mind's ear is a high-tech piece of equipment. It plays my mind's soundtrack, which is probably the most interesting thing about my mind. Bits of remembered conversations, movie lines, song clips, and things I want to say (or didn't say), all vie for air space. And my mind's ear has the ability to play back lots of different kinds of things on command. Everything from entire musicals to my mother's voice to the sounds of different instruments to the part of Family Guy that made me laugh last night. The mind's ear helps me remember things and allows me to do voices and impressions. It's probably the best-kept part of my brain.

There's a dusty screen up there that acts as my mind's eye. It's not that great a set-up. It works, but it's not very detailed. It's pretty good with faces, but not that great with locations. In fact, the channel that supplies me with information on how to get places is pretty much out all the time. I think squirrels chewed through the cable.

Then there's the stuff I use every day. I imagine that this stuff is in tote bags hanging on pegs. In real life, I keep my life organized by having different bags for different things. I have a bag for work, a bag for church choir, a bag for tutoring jobs, a bag for the radio show. When I'm leaving the house, I choose the bag(s) I will need for the day and take them with me. In each bag are the important objects, information, and books I need for each job. Inside my mind, I imagine that all of the facts and skills I need for a certain task are in the tote bag for that task. The teaching tote bag, for example, has musical facts, anecdotes, classroom management skills, ideas for projects and homeworks, mnemonic devices, and a buttload of patience.

Finally, and most importantly, are the organ-grinder's monkey and the Tinkerbell-ish fairy. My mind isn't a still-life. It's full of activity. The monkey runs around and pulls files out of cabinets. He overturns the music basket, pulls the tote bags off their pegs and generally causes a ruckus. He makes me funny. He makes me say random things. He shows me a funny cartoon that causes me to laugh out loud in the supermarket. The fairy, on the other hand, makes me creative. She flies around the attic, looking at different things, finding ways to make new things out of them. She helps me turn ideas into stories. She's the one who suggested I write this blog about the inside of my mind. She sprinkles fairy dust on ordinary stuff, turning it magic.

What is your mind like? Think about it. Take a picture of it. Is it an attic or a basement? A wide open field or a small room? Is it light or dark? Does it look just like your desktop wallpaper? Or your screensaver? Is it a place that you avoid? Or the most comfortable place in your life. My mind may be dusty and cluttered, and it may have a slightly hyper monkey running around in it, and weird music playing 24/7, but it is the finest palace imaginable.

The 15 Commandments

I was waiting for someone on Saturday, and whilst waiting I was reading a story in the New Yorker about Zappos. You know, the shoe company. Zappos has a really intricate customer service policy and a pretty neat mission statement. Well, even though I've done mission statements in the past (they're great for a bulletin board!), I was inspired to think up some rules for myself. You might find some of them useful too. Call them my 15 Commandments. Because sometimes, 10 just isn't enough.

1. Visit New York at least once a year.

NY is where my family lives, so this one means go and connect with family. Remember who you are and where you came from. Also, drink and laugh with the people who made you.

2. Talk to family at least once a week.

No matter where I am in the world, no matter what I'm doing, it's a good idea to talk to parents, sister, or grandmothers. Which reminds me, I forgot to call my grandmas yesterday. Must do it today.

3. Don't lose sleep for work.

Work will be there in the morning. It's better to call it a night and start fresh in the morning than lose a night's sleep over work. Losing sleep is not healthy for me, and the repercussions last longer than a single night. Besides, sleep is where I'm a Viking.

4. Be open to new ideas.

I don't want to be one of those set-in-her-ways people. I reserve the right to reject an idea after I've given it some thought, but being open to new ideas, things, and people is definitely a good plan.

5. Don't be afraid to let old ideas go.

If it ain't working, get rid of it. It's better to admit that it's wrong than to waste time and energy trying to make it right. You can waste a lot of time, energy, money, etc. on such things. Believe me, I know.

6. Be truthful whenever possible.

This is a new one for me. I'm not saying I'm a liar, but it has in the past been my modus operandi to say I'm ok when I'm not, or to agree to something when I wasn't 100% convinced. I'm trying to be more truthful about my feelings and opinions, especially with loved ones. I'm pretty honest at work. It's just in the social life where I roll with the punches maybe a bit too often.

7. Make time for a friend.

I originally wrote "Make time for a meal with a friend" because nothing is better than sitting down to breakfast, lunch, or dinner with someone you love. Catching up is important and it's worth the time. Sure, you can grab lunch in 15 minutes at a drive through, but do you get to reminisce about that time we did that crazy thing? Do you get to drink a glass of wine? Do you get to laugh? I changed it to "Make time for a friend" because some of my friends live far away and a meal is pretty impossible. But I can make a phone date and catch up.

8. Write as often as possible.

For me, this is hard because writing takes a backseat to my other jobs. I do it when everything else is done. And guess what, everything else never gets done. So I just have to prioritize. Blogging every week seems to help this so at the very least, I'll do that.

9. Focus your energy on important tasks.

I am a laser beam sometimes. When I was writing my dissertation, I was a laser beam. I was focused and disciplined, and it was one of the most productive times in my life. I don't always find this focus nowadays. My energy is diffused in too many directions, but I plan to streamline a little bit so I can get some of that focus back.

10. Keep a journal.

Absolutely essential for me. Keeps me honest with myself. Should only be published after my death. And the deaths of everyone that's in it.

11. Be kind and fair.

Probably the thing I find the easiest to do.

12. Allow yourself a break now and then.

Probably the thing I find most difficult. It's like I have two settings: I'm either productive, getting stuff done, or I'm lazy and useless. There's only a sliver of ground between these now. It's a challenge to turn the computer off and stop working. It's hard for me to just sit, but I've been cultivating mindfulness, and it's been miraculous. If only I could just do it more often.

13. Visit at least one new place a year.

It's a big planet, and I haven't even seen the pyramids yet. I've gone a lot of places so far, but I think that it's a good idea to aim for a new destination every year. Ireland, Amsterdam, hell, I've never been to Chicago. The experience is always going to be worth the time and the money.

14. Be generous with your time and talent, but save some for yourself.

You can give so much away that you become empty, but only if you don't take care of yourself. I have to keep enriching myself and feeding myself so that there's always something to share. If I do that, I'll never run out.

15. Use anger as a fuel, not a weapon.

You're pissed off, right? Annoyed at something? Let it spur you to action. Let it be the combustion that drives your engine. Do something about it. Or just do something. Go for a run, start a campaign, talk it out with someone, vote, blog, rescue a kitten, donate some money, draw a picture, organize a committee, write a letter, seek out a hug, cry and then dry your tears and think of something you can do about it. For God's sake, don't yell at people, hit anyone, drive unsafely, destroy inanimate objects, waste time with blame, or just let it seethe. Anger is powerful so USE it to light up a city.

And a bonus one:

Laugh.

At most things. At things that are overly serious. At the driver who's making you late. At the way things appear to be falling apart. At yourself. In the grand scheme of things, it'll probably be okay. So take a step back and see the ridiculousness. You'll live longer.

3-2-1 Contact!

I found chemistry and physics impenetrable subjects in high school. In college, I stuck close to medical anthropology and left bio, chem, physics, and astronomy to the science heads. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested. In fact, I'm a big fan of science shows on TV. Nova, The Universe, Planet Earth, How It's Made, Mythbusters, are always welcome on my TV, but my love of all those shows started with a program that aired when I was a child. It all started with 3-2-1 Contact.

3-2-1 Contact aired on PBS in the 1980s. Every week had a theme like food or gravity or computers (laughable in the 80s). At the beginning of its run, 3-2-1 Contact episodes featured vignettes with three college-aged buddies: Marc, Trini, and Lisa who would perform science experiments at their hangout and sometimes go out and visit scientific places. Trini went to a lab with an electron microscope, Lisa got to take an enviable hot air balloon ride, Marc went to a speech therapy lab. They panned for gold. They helped out a glass-blower. It was awesome.

At the end of episodes, there would be an episode of the Bloodhound Gang--a filmed multi-day mystery that could be solved using such science-y things as a pinhole camera or disappearing ink. One mystery hinged on finding out what kind of wood does not float (hint: it's ironwood). Also, the Bloodhound Gang had an awesome theme song that I will be happy to sing on request. Oh! One more thing! The kids who called themselves Bloodhound Gang (Vicki was their leader) worked for the never-seen Mr. Bloodhound. When the phone rang, one of the kids would answer, "Whenever there's trouble, we're there on the double. Mr. Bloodhound isn't here."

Have I mentioned that I LOVED this show??

As the years went by, Marc, Trini, and Lisa (and their hangout) were replaced. The new kids sometimes hung out at a diner. They still visited labs, doctors' offices, and observatories, but the weekly themes got more ambitious. In fact, one week-long theme took 3-2-1 Contact to Antarctica. We got to see a penguin rookery (where I learned the work "rookery") and saw some of the scientific research done at the South Pole. The kids would invariably have a "friend" in the place where they visited--a friend who would take them around, translate, and show them everything they needed to know. This spawned a joke between a friend and me when, many moons ago, my friend Michele planned a Chinese New Year party. In order to obtain authentic food and treats for the party, we went shopping in NYC's Chinatown. Among the signs written only in Chinese characters, we were at a loss as to where to go, or even what shops would have what we needed. I can't remember who said the following, but I suspect it was me. "You know what we need?" one of us said, "we need to suddenly meet up with out friend Ling who will take us to all the right places." Sadly, Ling never materialized, but a store selling pork buns was discovered, and the party ended up being great.

When the "new" 3-2-1 Contact was on, I was probably about 12 or so. It was a spongy age. I watched those shows and absorbed everything. I didn't know it was happening. I just knew I loved the show. Oh, I wish I had had a DVR back then! I subscribed to 3-2-1 Contact Magazine for far longer than I probably should have. (I was old.) One week featured a series of shows that was a particular favorite. It was a series on Malaysia. At the time, I wondered if I'd ever make it halfway across the world to this fascinating place. Well, crazily enough, I got to go this summer. I didn't get to see a native Malaysian forge a Kris dagger (like I did on the show), but I did get to see Malaysia's oldest rubber tree.

The strange fact is that this little show had a huge effect on me. I still think about it a lot, about the time Trini made a boat out of clay, or the time Marc got to put numbers on bees and watch them do their wiggle dance, or the time we learned how much stuff someone at the South Pole has to wear to keep warm. And every damn time I see a hot air balloon, I think of Lisa getting to take that magical trip. I didn't end up a scientist, but I did end up curious about everything, which is, I suppose, is even better than knowing everything.

Back to Work

I can't believe it's been more than two months since I last posted. In my defense, a lot has been going on, including--but not limited to--a new niece, a conference in Malaysia, and a visit home. But it's time to get into the lovely comfortable routine of Back-to-School (and that also means getting back into the Blog-A-Week thing). I'm actually looking forward to a little bit of routine because I've spent the last two months in constant motion, and it'll be a relief to go to the same place every day for a while. Besides that, I like my job a lot and that's what this particular blog entry is all about. I actually wrote the following while in Malaysia, but this is the first opportunity I've had to type it here.

Almost every job has some sort of hidden perk. I say 'almost' because there's just nothing redeeming about a telemarketing. Boring jobs, for instance, can be great for catching up on crossword puzzles. Einstein's boring job at the patent office allowed him a lot of time to conduct what he called "thought experiments." Lovers of post-it notes, file folders, and paper clips (you know who you are) may have office jobs where such things are available for pilfering. Any job can offer such unadvertised benefits as free ill-gotten photocopies or even mortgage incentives from the company credit union. But the hidden perks are not the kinds of things that come up in the final interview. They are the kinds of things that you only find out about on the job.

I have been constantly surprised at the hidden perks at my job. The unconcealed perks are quite good too: wonderful supportive colleagues, amazing students, an office of my own, a steady paycheck, medical and dental insurance, a parking spot, and vision coverage that allows me a new pair of glasses every two years. As I start my fourth year as a full-timer, what I've noticed is that the hidden perks were also completely unexpected. 

Being a music teacher--specifically a teacher of voice--I am there at the beginning of musical careers, and therefore involved in a bustling music scene. Sometimes I get to participate in musical events. One of my former students is a songwriter, and he asked me to sing back-up on some of his songs. With him, I've had the chance to play gigs in cool little clubs and bars, something I've always wanted to do. I'm getting my chance now, and I never expected that. How fun is that?

For the last two years, one of my standard assignments has been a CD review. It's designed to get my voice students to think and write critically about their vocal models. The unexpected consequence is  that I learn about musicians I might never know otherwise. Some of my discoveries have been new and cutting edge acts, and some have been composers and performers of the past. My students have introduced me to Susannah McCorkle, Tegan and Sara, the Pharcyde, Mindless Self Indulgence, the Bloodhound Gang, and Blossom Dearie, among others. For the presence of this new music in my life, I am eternally grateful.

Finally, my job allows me to meet a hundred new people every semester. The majority of those folks come and go, but every once in a while I'll make a friendly connection with a student that lasts after the class is over, and maybe even after they've moved on to another school or another opportunity. I've made three or four really good friends over the last couple of years. Believe me, it's not something I expected. I certainly expected to make friends with my colleagues--and I have, but I never imagined that I would meet some of my closest buddies for the first time by calling their name on the roll sheet. But that's what's so delightful about it.

The unexpected things are sometimes the most fun. My job may be difficult, and teachers these days may have to do a lot with a little, but the hidden perks of the job make it more than worthwhile. After all, there's no supply closet at work; I have to buy my own post-it notes. But that's okay because I've got rhythm, I've got music, and I've got my friends. Who could ask for anything more?

The Key That Opens Many Doors

Here's my New Yorker resume:

I was born in Long Island Jewish Hospital in 1974. I grew up in Queens, and spent every Sunday of my early childhood in Greenwich Village at my grandparents' apartment. When I was 18 years old, I moved into the Hunter College dorm at 25th street and 1st avenue in Manhattan. I lived in the same dorm room for five years. After that, I moved in with some friends who were living in an apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. When the landlord raised our rent, we moved to Astoria, Queens. It was from there that I moved to Los Angeles. 

I lived in New York for a total of 26 years. I've lived in Los Angeles since 2000, but even if I spend the next quarter of a century right here in L.A., I'll always have "New Yorker" as part of my identity. Growing up there--like growing up anywhere--leaves marks on you. It's just that there's a sort of universal definition of "New Yorker." There's not a universal definition for being a native Cincinnatian, so even though being from Cincinnati might be part of someone's identity, what that means may not be obvious to the rest of the world.

But everybody knows that being a New Yorker means being tough and streetwise. It means having an accent wherein one pronounces the word coffee "kawwfee." It means being loud and outgoing. It means being the type of person who does not suffer fools gladly, or, in the local parlance, "ya don't take crap from nobody." When folks from all over the world find out you're from New York, they make a number of assumptions about you. These may or may not be true, but a New Yorker can take pleasure in either fulfilling people's expectations or subverting them.

Another interesting part of the New Yorker effect is this: many non-native New Yorkers have lived there at some point in their lives. These people often look back on their time in New York as one of the most enjoyable times of their lives, and they will instantly start reminiscing about old hang-outs or quintessential New York moments. I can make a friend really fast with a person who loved eating Ess-A Bagels when they lived near Peter Cooper Village. ("Really? Me too! I used to stand on that long line--remember that ridiculous line?--on Sunday mornings and get a bagel with butter and eat it in the park!")

I've met two people in the last couple of weeks who lived in the same part of Brooklyn as I did, and both times it automatically built a rapport. Today, I had kawfee, I mean coffee, with an old high school friend who said that a property manager showed her the "good apartment" once she found out my friend used to live in Bay Ridge. Job interviewers will go off on joyful tangents when they see your educational background includes a stint in the Big Apple. Here in L.A., die-hard east coasters will assume that New Yorkers are somehow more "real" than our Angelino peers. (I've met plenty of "real" Angelinos, by the way.) Folks are dying to know if you really believe that New York pizza kicks every other pizza's ass.

The New Yorker effect is a wonderful thing. It's like the key that opens many doors. For my friend, the mere mention of Brooklyn was literally the key that opened the door to the "good apartment." Knowing New York is an advantage in business. It's a brilliant ice-breaker at parties. But more than that, it's common ground. People who are from there, and those who have lived there even for a little while, hold New York in their hearts. Knowing that your heart includes New York, and my heart includes New York means that our hearts have something in common. Isn't that the definition of a friend?

Look Up

When you're riding the 6 train at 2 o'clock in the morning, it's probably a good idea to keep your head down. I'll call this head-down position "defensive stance." The years I spent riding buses and trains has bred in me a tendency to walk and sit in public with my head angled downward. And if I'm sitting in a public place, say at a coffee shop or on a bench somewhere, my "defensive stance" includes sticking my head in a book or reading something on my Blackberry. But this has got to stop.

It turns out that when you're walking and looking at your shoes, or when you drink that latte and constantly check for new texts, you're missing out on something: everything. 

At first I developed my "defensive stance" for safety. When I started riding the train a lot, I was a petite teenager, so keeping my head down discouraged unwanted conversations, especially late at night. When I moved to California, I rode the bus for almost five years and kept up my defensive stance. Once I started driving, I didn't really need the stance anymore. But old habits are hard to break, so I kept on ducking, avoiding the world's gaze, just hanging out inside my own head. And once my personal life started to go south, I seemed to need something to occupy me anytime I was alone. My Blackberry became very important because there was always something to read, always something to do. But now my defensive stance wasn't about my outward safety, it was about avoiding my own thoughts, avoiding the problems that were staring me in the face.

I finally did face those problems. It was difficult to do, and what followed was the most challenging ten-month period of my life. There have been many moments in that time when I've been tempted to stick my head back in a book and live at, say, Hogwarts, rather than in my real life. In other words, my head stayed down for a while. But I have this therapist who's amazing, and she suggested I do something very simple: she told me to look up.

She calls it "mindfulness," an awareness of the things happening around me right now. I was skeptical that it would make any difference in my life. I mean, how could changing the angle of my head or sitting bookless at Starbucks possibly help me heal? But the plain truth is that it has. How? Well, two ways that I can see. 

First, by getting my head out of books and off of my Blackberry, I am more likely to address how I truly feel about my life. I am less likely to avoid unpleasant emotions, something I had been doing for years. Second, by picking my head up and looking at a bird, a chair, a picture on a wall, I can get out of my head. I don't think I need to tell you that you can think yourself right down a spiral into hell. You can think yourself into a bad attitude. You can dwell and wallow and make yourself miserable. But if you're mindful, if you pay attention to the simple things around you, you can avoid the pitfalls of brain babble.

Looking up has done wonderful things for me. When I find myself slipping down into the pit, I stop and look around me. When I'm tempted to duck the world, I challenge myself to notice 10 things. Do you know something? The world is a pretty fascinating place. Birds are cute, and they sing and eat french fries off the ground. Women's dresses are really colorful this season. Rain clouds sometimes move quickly. Toddlers whine when they're overtired. Fresh bagels are fun to bite into (and are also superdelicious). Supermarkets are cool inside on a hot day. Trees are ridiculously beautiful, especially in springtime.

When I'm walking, when I'm sitting, when I'm waiting in line at the store, I am starting to learn to abandon my defensive stance. Instead, the voice in my head reminds me to look up. It turns out that life can be pretty cool and interesting, and even when it isn't, I don't have to spend every waking moment thinking at seventy-five miles an hour. I can just watch that adorable little bird eat a french fry that's twice his size. Who knew that could make such a big difference?

 

I feel like I just woke up.

~Hero

Reminders

When we're tired at work and at the end of our patience/rope/sanity, sometimes it's difficult to remember why we got involved in our profession in the first place. But sometimes, we get reminders that renew us, and help us go back to that place where we can recall why the hell we started doing this in the first place. For a doctor, it might be saving a life, for a stockbroker, it might be a big fat check. As a teacher, I get probably more validation than say, someone in an office job. My students thank me all the time. They accomplish things; they graduate. So that part of it is mostly pretty cool, but at the end of the semester, one may begin to wonder why one got into music, instead of say, math. The Math Department doesn't have a concert every night for the last month of the semester. The professors in the Math Department don't have to listen to performances for hours on end as final exams. The folks in the Math Department aren't expected to get up on stage at the end of the semester and do math problems in front of their colleagues and students. But in Music, we do all these things. We attend concerts--not just our own, but each other's. We listen to juries and final performances. We all perform in the Faculty Recital. I did four performances in that recital. Not to mention that in the last week--which is finals week, by the way--I was in the Composer's Club fundraiser on Monday night, the Opera Club performed Tuesday (I am the faculty moderator for the club), I came to Wes' concert on Wednesday, and I performed in the Composer's Club concert on Thursday. Why the hell did I go into music in the first place?!?

How wonderful then, for me to have two reminders yesterday, just when I was feeling my lowest and most burnt out. It was about 2 in the afternoon. I had just sat for four hours of final performances, and I was dragging myself down to my office. I got barely three hours of sleep the night before so I was yawning and sleepy and wondering when I was going to get to sleep late again. It didn't look good. I opened the main office door (it's a suite of offices I share with five other people) and heard a beautiful sound: Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

Now, I don't have to tell some of you, but Beethoven's 7th is one of the three pieces of music I credit with making me a musician.* My colleague was playing B7 in her office because, after listening to some of her piano students mangle great works of art, she needed to "remember what real music sounded like." She offered to turn it down if it was bothering me, but I said, "turn it up," instead. We sat there in our offices, shuffling around our stupid paperwork, listening all the while. During the second movement (my favorite part of the symphony), I walked to the doorway of her office, and we exchanged a few words about how amazing the music was. I barely remember what we said, I just leaned on the door jamb, staring at nothing, remembering that music is indeed a beautiful thing. A decade and a half ago, this same piece helped me make the decision to study music seriously, and here it was reminding me that even though I was burnt out and sick of it all, that music was (and is) still a magical thing that I am lucky to do every day.

And if that weren't enough, my friend Jon took me out to see John Brion last night at the Largo. Jon, T, and I had an amazing Japanese dinner beforehand at a place where you grill your own food (including a birthday s'more at the end!!), then we had drinks at the Roger Room, and then we went to Largo. John Brion is an unbelievable musician. He's just made out of music, that's all I can think to say about him. He plays everything on stage, makes samples and loops and effectively plays in a band consisting entirely of...himself. He'll play a drum loop that plays continuously while he goes over to the piano and adds a piano loop over that. Then there are synthesizers that sound like flutes and space age keyboards and guitars, and he just layers the hell out of everything. And some of it is planned out (he has original songs), but sometimes he'll riff on something pre-existent. When he asked for requests, people yelled out everything from his songs to "Freebird" to "It's Rainin' Men" (T asked for that one and JB said he didn't think anyone had ever asked for it before). I requested Beethoven's Seventh, of course! The layered music often has beautiful, crazy harmonies that would have Chopin and Liszt jumping for joy. He's a hell of a pianist, and his timing as a drummer (and in general) is impeccable.

There were many incredible moments--the "Stairway to Heaven" finale was breathtaking (he started it on vibes!)--but something happened to me during one of the first songs he played. As I mentioned, I was tired yesterday, so even though I was having fun, I was struggling to stay with it when the curtain went up. He started this one loop. It was the last four measures of a song, and he kept adding to it. Piano, string sounds, the theremin-like keyboard, guitar. It was a wash of sound over a simple progression that kept looping back upon itself. And somewhere in the thick plaid of sound that he created, I was suddenly, fiercely happy to be alive, to be there, and to be a musician.

He ended the evening with an encore. He asked for requests and someone yelled out "Frere Jacques." We laughed, but then he played it on the piano. Basically it was variations on the theme, played simply at first, but with growing complexity throughout. One version had this creeping, descending bassline that moved through harmonies that would have made Bach cringe, but sounded rich and beautiful to twenty-first century ears. The variations lasted a couple of minutes, but he managed to touch on at least 150 years of music history. It was Debussy for a bit, then Liszt, then Chopin, John Adams for a second, Steve Reich for a moment. I wanted it to last forever, but what made it great was that it didn't. It is made all the more special because it was live and ephemeral and it will never happen like that again.

So I remember now why I did this...just in time for summer school! It's okay, though. I'm grateful to have a job. And I'm extremely and forever grateful that it's a job where I get to experience and share music every day.

~Hero

*the other two pieces are Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, and the Soundtrack to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Desert Island Discs

I've been working on a list of ten desert-island discs. This list has been in flux for the last two decades, or so. If I found myself on a desert island that had CD or MP3 capabilities (but no way of escape), here are probably the discs I'd bring with me. You'll notice that they're all rock, but I'm hoping the powers that be who allow me to bring 10 CDs to a desert island will let me bring 10 CDs in different genres (i.e. Classical, soundtracks, etc.). In no particular order:

1. The Bends - Radiohead. I know other people like OK Computer more, but I absolutely love the soundscape of this record. It really feels like its own world.

Fave line: "She looks like the real thing. She tastes like the real thing."

2. Whatever People Say I Am That's What I'm Not - Arctic Monkeys. I love the cleverness of the lyrics, and it makes me want to jump around. There is not a song on this album that I do not adore vigorously. They're second album is also amazing.

Fave line: "You can pour your heart out around 3 o'clock, when the 2 for 1's undone the writer's block."

Honorable mention: "I see your frown and it's like looking down the barrel of a gun."

3. With Teeth - Nine Inch Nails. I had a really hard time with this one. I wanted to choose a NIN album and I know Pretty Hate Machine so well, I can sing it to myself, I don't even need to hear it anymore. This album is newer and a little less known to me. But I figure I'll want a couple of lesser-known CDs in with my old favorites. It's a sometimes angry record and it came out when I was particularly pissed off.

Fave line: "I just made you up to hurt myself. And it worked. Yes it did. There is no you, there is only me."

4. So Much for the Afterglow - Everclear. This is the soundtrack to the wildest year of my life. It was also the mental soundtrack to my first novel. If I wanted to get back into writing it after a while away, I'd listen to the first couple of songs and be right back there in the thick of it.

Fave line: "They can't hurt you unless you let them."

Honorable mention: "She's perfect in that F&@$d up way that all the magazines seem to want to glorify these days."

5. Velvet Goldmine Soundtrack - Various. A great collection of songs by fantastic artists including Craig Wedren (of Shudder to Think), Grant Lee Buffalo, and Thom Yorke.

Fave line: "We'll take the whole shebang--all or nothing, any day. Ecstasy's the birthright of our gang. We'll take the whole shebang. Free your heart of guilt and shame. Come and take what's yours: the whole shebang."

6. Pony Express Record - Shudder to Think. Keeps you off balance the whole time. Unexpected time shifts and turns of phrase make this a record that keeps you guessing. One of the two albums on this list I heard about because of my ex-boyfriend, Ed.

Fave line: "The Truth, it wears sharp clothes, and ooh, you cannot undress it."

7. Punk in Drublic - NOFX. This is the other record from the Ed years. This is a really tight collection of songs. Brilliantly played and sometimes hilariously funny.

Fave line: "Got a face like Charles Bronson. Straight outta Green Bay, Wisconsin."

8. One Fierce Beer Coaster - The Bloodhound Gang. One of the funniest albums ever recorded, and what makes it even awesomer is that the musicianship is really tight.

Fave line: "Life's short, but hard. Like a body-building elf."

9. Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy - Mindless Self Indulgence. This album is pure energy. Another pissed off record that came into my life--via my now roommate--when I was really angry at stuff. I remember listening to this and saying, "Oh yeah, this record gets where I'm at right now."

Fave line: "I could've been someone instead of falling flat upon my ass."

Honorable mention: "I'm a badass. Tell me I'm a badass."

10. A Rush of Blood to the Head - Coldplay. I know there are people out there who have no love for Coldplay. I don't care what y'all say, this album is beautiful. When I first heard it--around the beginning of 2002--I was still in grad school, but starting research on my dissertation. I was also getting very heavily into Harry Potter. It was a unique time. I felt on the verge of something spectacular, and this album perfectly captured that "butterflies" feeling that I seemed to experience all the time. 

Fave line: "Questions of science, science and progress, did not speak as loud as my heart."

Deca-Awesome List for the week of 4/27

In no particular order (although #1 is definitely #1 to me)

1. My Mom. It's her birthday on Friday and I love her more than anything. Her love is unconditional and that's an amazing gift. I don't have to be a great success for her to love me. I don't have to be married or give her grandkids for her to praise me. She would love me if I was a convicted felon in jail. She'd love me if I had a drug problem. She'd love me if I was a loser. But her love has made me a winner in so many ways. She is understanding and kind, and I owe so much of my success to her. The reason? She is an expert at dealing with people. I'm talking a really high EQ. I grew up watching her melt hearts of stone. She is amazing at reading people.

Someday she will write a book, or maybe we'll write one together. She worries a lot--and always has--but also realizes that her job as a mother is not to pass that worry on to the kids. When I was 18, she said something like this: "I love you so much, and I will miss you when you go off to college. You will always have a place here if you need it, but now is the time for you to move away and make your new life." I know she must have been fighting her instincts in saying something like that, because I know part of her wanted to keep us close. But she unselfishly looked beyond her own worry, and saw what was best for us (Dad helped too, I'm sure). Her love made me brave because I have always known that she (and my Dad) would be there to catch me if I fell. We are very close, almost psychically linked, and when I hug her, I feel like we're a puzzle with all the pieces clicked into place.

2. Being able to help. Nothing is more awesome than having a confused student come to office hours and walk away understanding what they're doing. Sometimes, it's as simple as re-explaining something to them. Sometimes it's just teaching them an alternate method of figuring something out. On the flip side is not being able to help someone who clearly needs it. That's frustrating as all get out.

3. Gel pens. They're not as reliable as a good old ballpoint, but they come in purty colors. The ones I'm using also have monkeys on them, so that's a bonus.

4. "Monkey-fighting." When Snakes on a Plane aired on commercial TV, they had to do something with the famous line from the movie. So, in their infinite wisdom, they changed the R-rated 13-letter word to "monkey-fighting." Yes. I'm not kidding. I couldn't make that up. They might as well have let him say, "I want these 12-sandwich-eating snakes off my plane."

5. Recovery. I have a friend whose Mom is recovering from a stroke, and she's doing great. Her physical therapy is making her stronger, and she's starting to be able to swallow again. She's not all the way back to normal or anything, but she's making progress, and that is a wonderful thing.

6. Doing whatever I want for my birthday. I don't have anyone to answer to, you know? No one who's planning "something special" for me that I don't even care about doing. Also, last year, I gave two finals and moved on my birthday. It sucked. I want this one to be better.

7. Found Time. I was supposed to leave my office to rush over to an appointment, and I was stressing about it a little. But then I checked my messages and found out that the meeting got canceled. Now I'm on Found Time!! (patent pending).

8. The Inner Game of Music. As a musician, I don't really need the advice because I already instinctively do a lot of things they recommend. But it has helped me so much as a teacher because I now have better ways of giving feedback. For instance, I try to make my comments action comments, like "try this" or "be aware of" or "listen for" rather than "don't do this" statements. It's hard to try to "not do" something. That doesn't mean that's not what you're saying, but there's a way to phrase whatever you want in the positive action way.

9. Bagels. I miss being in a city where there are bagel shops every twenty-five feet. If I want a bagel, I can't be spontaneous about it. That's annoying, because I love these bready delights. I only eat a half at a time now because they're huge and full of calories, but it's a nice Sunday morning treat.

10. My paternal grandfather, Frank. If memory serves, today is the (sixth?) anniversary of his death. He was a good man. Kind and funny and generous and silly and game for anything. He ran his own business, and he was tough. When local "businessmen" wanted to extort money from him, he didn't let it happen. He was brave and trustworthy. My sister and I used to go to our grandparents for an afterschool snack and to hang out before our folks got home. Grandpa made the best sandwiches ever. Mine was a ham sandwich on an egg or kaiser roll with orange juice to drink. YUM. I also learned to carve meat watching him and his ham hands. I love that guy, and not just because he bought me ice cream whenever I asked for it, but because he loved and took care of his family, because he doted on his wife, because he raised my father to be a great man, because he was a veteran, because he still looks after my grandmother in his way. He is sorely missed.

Spring Sprang Sprung Sproing

When I was a child, spring was a vast expanse of time stretching from Easter all the way to those last days of school before summer vacation. It's not like that anymore for a couple of reasons. First, I live in L.A. now and most of our year is like spring. It smells and feels like a beautiful Easter Sunday on a disproportionate number of days. It's amazing, and it's one of my favorite things about living here. But spring is not a season here, really. It's like the default setting. Second, even spring in New York is a truncated affair. I remember there being a couple of months of spring weather. Crocuses and daffodils popping up out of the yellowish grass, cool mornings giving way to warm afternoons, light jacket weather. But that whole thing seems gone. It's dreary old winter, a week of "spring" and suddenly it's humid and hot and summer. Which brings me to my third reason (and this might contribute to the severity of reason #2), as I get older, time just zooms right by. Spring probably felt longer when I was a kid because everything felt longer when I was a kid. The wait for Christmas was interminable, as I recall.

I'm not saying the spring season hasn't actually shrunk in NY, because it really so. My parents can attest to spring being a week or two between snow and mosquitos, but when I was a kid, it was a beautiful time that went on for a while.

Even when I developed allergies, spring was still my favorite season. Who didn't love those first warm days after an eternity in the dark and cold of NY winter? Who doesn't feel renewed by the first green shoots of grass jumping up out of the ground? Who doesn't enjoy shedding layers and layers of down and wool, and re-emerging like a butterfly in a nice light jacket? Wait, did I mean the butterfly was wearing the nice light jacket? Never mind. Spring is awesomeness, and I just figured out why.

It's like a recurring theme with me. Every fourth blog or so (not planned, by the way) I talk about the idea of possibility. Spring is the earth's way of showing us possibility coming to fruition. When I was younger, that time seemed endless, and therefore possibility seemed endless. When spring is shortened (damn you, global warming! ), those flowers don't get to come up with the same glory. That emergence from winter's cocoon isn't quite as sweet.

L.A.'s eight-month-long spring is great, but it's easy to take for granted. Without the awful damp, cold darkness of February, can one really appreciate May? I am grateful to live in a place where we frequently experience cooler mornings, sunny and warm afternoons, and brisk evenings. A few days ago L.A. suffered a two-day heat wave that saw temperatures soar into the triple digits, and I was afraid for a minute that spring had already been replaced by summer. But L.A. doesn't experience that truncated spring yet (and hopefully never will); our summer really hits its stride in August. Today is sunny with a brisk breeze. It feels like Easter Sunday again, and it feels like possibility again.

I feel like I'm coming out of a very long winter, and I'm glad it feels like spring. I'm an orange crocus bulb, no, purple! and I'm just pushing up until my head breaks the surface of the ground. I think I'll go and sit in the sun for a while and drink some water and enjoy spring like a good little flower.

~Hero

Building a Nursery for Possibility

I had a crazy dream a few nights ago. I don't usually remember my dreams, and if I do, they seldom make sense, but this one freaked me out because it was really vivid. I had no idea it was a dream; it felt scarily real.

In the dream, I was pregnant. I was probably only big enough to be about six months, but, when the baby kicked, I could see the outline of its foot in my belly. In real life, you don't really get that until the last weeks, but it was a dream, so, you know. From my reactions in the dream, I can tell you that this pregnancy was unexpected. I was getting ready to have the baby anyway, even though I was quite distressed about the whole thing, and when I finally woke up, it was with great relief that I realized I had been dreaming. I went back to sleep for a little while after that, but when I woke up, the dream was still on my mind.

Why did I dream this? Well, I just babysat for two little ones last week, so maybe little Michael and April were on my mind. My sister is five months along with her second child. I sent a bunch of baby clothes and stuff to her, so I spent a little time perusing the items in Target's baby section. My own biological clock? Still very much on snooze if the relief I felt upon waking up is any indication. So...what does it mean?

Well, I asked the interwebs, and they suggested that a pregnancy dream can be indicative of a new project, a new idea, about to be born. It can also mean the new start of something. Yes, I thought when I read that. Of course that's it. I am in the process of finishing my second book which has been gestating for quite some time. Also, I have just recently reiterated my pledge to continue writing. I've renewed my vows, so to speak (I wear a band on my right hand that signifies this commitment to my art), so perhaps this is the beginning of a new phase where I make time to write more. Also--and maybe this is a reach--I'm coming up on nine months of being single.

So, there are no human babies in my immediate future, but I am ready, willing, and able to give birth to ideas and stories. My life as a teacher and writer is still very much pregnant with possibility. There's pain in childbirth, there's sometimes pain in the act of creation, even if what you create exists only on a computer screen. But I'm willing to carry this metaphor to its limit. If it means sitting up late with a story that's fussy and colicky, I'm willing to be that story's loving mom. I'm good at feeding and nurturing other people's dreams (I am a music teacher, after all), so perhaps the dream is telling me that it's time to start paying closer attention to my own. 

Or it could have just been a crazy dream caused by eating cupcakes too close to bedtime.

DecaAwesome List for the week of 4/13

The theme of this week's list is high school. Here's a list of ten things that I loved about my high school, St. Francis Prep, Fresh Meadows (that's Queens for all you west coasters), NY.

1. The Alvernian Drama Society. Where else could misfits of all sizes, shapes, and stripes find a haven...and put on dramas and musicals! I have so many good memories of building sets, rehearsing dance numbers, and just hanging out with the coolest, funnest, most interesting people in my school. I made friends there, gained self-confidence there (and promptly lost it again in the next round of auditions), and basically grew up there. I laughed, I cried, I saw turtles in the sky, it was a brilliant thing.

2. The 7-day schedule. We had this overly complicated schedule that we all accepted without question. Here are some of its nuances: every class was assigned a letter A-G (not to mention H period which you could take before official classes began every day); every day, one class would "drop out" and the following day that class would meet for an hour, and then the day after that, that class would be first period. So day 1 was ABCDEF (G dropped out); day 2 was DFEGAB (fourth period "G" was an hour long); day 3 was GADCBE. We had funny mnemonic devices to remember this schedule, including the, er, habits and preferences of some of our beloved teachers. Some were generic, like day 2: Drugs For Every Girl And Boy.

3. The Music Department. Particularly Mr. Zuar's choir, Mr. Zuar's Music History class (I'm a freaking musicologist, so it must have had one hell of an impact), and Mr. Motley's RepCo. I just sang my fool heart out for four years running. Good teachers who were funny (intentionally, and otherwise) and knowledgeable and made me love music so much that I made it my career. The jazz band was pretty awesome too, as I recall.

4. The Seraph. Our newspaper. I wrote features for this thing for all of my four years at the school. At the beginning of junior year, they gave me a regular column to write. I called it "The World Through My Eyes" (with apologies to Depeche Mode). It was basically like this blog, but in print form and with more typos. My junior and senior years, I won a bunch of High School Press awards for my column and for other stories I wrote. It was good experience, and it was the beginning of my (possibly incorrect) thinking that people might actually care what I have to rant about.

5. Joe Claro. My junior year English teacher. His first day at Prep was my first day of junior year. He is quick-witted, hilariously deadpan, and superknowledgeable. We hit it off right away, and we are still friends now. I had lunch with him when I was home visiting at Christmas. Way back when, he helped me find my voice as a writer, and he continues to encourage my work. He is a lovely human being, and Joe and his wife Fran are like family to me.

6. The stage in the auditorium. Seriously, one of the biggest stages I have ever seen at a school. It also dwarfs some Broadway theater stages. It's not only wide, it's deep. And when I watch old RepCo tapes (yes, I still have some), I am amazed at how many people we crammed on that thing. I spent half my time at Prep on that stage. It was like home to me.

7. Three lunch periods. Freshman had "first lunch," i.e. the first half hour of the 1 1/2 hour fourth period/lunch thing. After first lunch, freshman had the whole hour period and the afternoon. It made the afternoon drag on interminably, but at least freshmen didn't have to fight with upperclassmen for food. Juniors had "last lunch," i.e. the last half hour of fourth period. So juniors would have their first four periods (last one of those was the "hour" period) and then lunch. Last lunch made the afternoon go very quickly. Seniors had "split lunch," i.e. a half hour stuck in between two halves of the hour period. Made the hour period fly by. I think sophomore lunch was a wild card. Could be any of them. This was a really good system. The school was huge, so this was a way to feed everyone and stagger the crowds.

8. Cafeteria pizza. God help me, I love that stupid square pizza. I loved it at the roller rink, and I loved it on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in the Prep cafeteria. Honorable mention: those chocolate chip cookies that came three in a package.

9. Eating outside. I and the other misfits ate our lunches away from the madding crowd of cafeteria folks. When the weather really sucked, we'd compromise and eat on the steps, but we tried to stay out of that hornet's nest whenever possible.

10. The smartness of the student body. You had to test to get in, and the standards there were pretty rigorous. Being smart wasn't something you needed to be ashamed of there. It wasn't something you had to hide (like it was in middle school), it was something that was valued, both by the teachers and by the other students. I had friends who were brilliant scientists and artists, and who made the environment fun and stimulating. Only during my Ph.D. studies at USC did I find myself in that kind of environment again.

Bonus: Michele Filorimo. Still one of the funniest people I have ever known. She was a sophomore when I was a freshman, and she took me under her wing. We were unselfconsciously weird together, and I am so excited to still call her a friend. She was my heart during our three shared years at Prep.

Ch- Ch- Ch- Ch- Changes

If you ask 100 people if they want an exciting life of change vs. a life of routine, most people would say: give me that exciting life! But in reality, some of those same people crave routine and will stick to it slavishly even if they are unhappy and unfulfilled. Some will go so far as to defend it when questioned, and will go to great lengths to ensure that it continues, even if they hate it (they can't admit to themselves that they hate it). And don't think I'm making this point because I'm so far above this behavior; I defended my choices even when I knew they were wrong, and I stayed in an unhealthy routine for years. I suppose I'm something of an authority, but only because I've been there and done that.

When I finished school a couple of years ago, I looked for teaching jobs all over the country. Because of my relationship, I tried to limit my choices to coastal places and cities with film industry connections. I suppose I was ready to move to these places, although I don't know what the reality would have been had I gotten one of these jobs. As it happens, I did get a full time job, a year after I graduated, at a school that was 1.1 mile away from my apartment. Now, I made a compromise and took a job teaching my second area of expertise, not my first choice, and it's still something that bothers me from time to time. But still, here I was with a job, and I didn't have to move, change my cell phone number, buy clothes for a different climate, or say goodbye to my friends.

The friends I graduated with, however, are still looking for jobs all over the country. And it looks very likely that I will be the one staying here, while they are spread to the four winds away from me. V and Z moved to England, and now V has an awesome full-time gig in the midwest. R just had two interviews in the last two weeks, one in Ohio, one in Texas. Now she's got a phone interview in Anthens, GA. RM is looking everywhere for work, and KC has some possibilities that would take him at least three hours away from L.A.

So, change comes, whether you like it or not. I may have gotten a job that meant I didn't have to do another cross-country move, but my old friends seem to be leaving, one by one. Even though it's sad to lose their physical presence in my life, I understand that true friendship is stronger than distance (and having Facebook doesn't hurt). Not to mention that I am so incredibly proud of my friends who are getting jobs in this crazy economy, and I'm grateful that they are able to teach and share their gifts with students. It's bittersweet, I guess.

I have dreams of my own, of course. Dreams of leaving L.A. for a while and traveling, making my living by writing. Making change a way of life. I don't know when and if that will happen. I don't know if I will end up staying in my beautiful job long-term, or if I will ever again live close to my best friends. Uncertainty doesn't bother me that much. I'm a very roll-with-the-punches kind of person. I'm a river that keeps flowing, around obstacles, through passageways, and over ground, both rocky and smooth.

What I am certain of is this: I do know that whatever circumstances I find myself in, they will definitely change, either by the increasing chaos of time's arrow, or by my own hand. Luckily, I'm good friends with chaos, and I'm just crazy enough to shake things up when they get boring.

~Hero

The Big Event

If things had gone in one direction (and I'm sure such events are still taking place in a parallel universe somewhere), I was supposed to get married this year. The date was set for July. As we all know, this course events was averted through my own efforts, and now that date is just another Saturday. But, something happened this week that has many elements of a wedding: I gave a recital.

How it was like a wedding:

1) I got to wear a pretty dress. It wasn't white, but it was ivory, almost a light butter-yellow. It was sparkly and twinkly and flattering. I didn't have multiple fittings (I didn't even have it altered), and it cost me less than most regular dresses, and probably 5% of what a real wedding dress costs.

2) I had my hair and make-up done for the occasion. A student of mine, YJ, turned the middle part of the Music Office in an ersatz salon, which was funny. Despite the surroundings, she did a spectacular job. It was perhaps the prettiest I will ever look. 

3) It took a lot of preparation. I spent months picking out and learning the repertoire for the concert. All the songs were new to me. I had the idea for a recital maybe a year ago, and I rehearsed and practiced and dedicated a lot of time to the planning and execution.

4) There were flowers involved. Of course, they all came after the fact, but that's okay. One of my students gave me the prettiest bunch of flowers I have EVER received. Gigantic orange roses (darker at the tips of the petals), huge lilies, and some flowers I don't even know what they are, all in one spectacular bunch. Wow. I also received other lovely bouquets which were beautiful and are decorating my house now.

5) Music was involved. Duh.

6) It was video-documented for future generations. The recital went so well, I was thinking about putting some clips up on YouTube. (Although, entre nous, I think that the lens on the camera is weird and that I look like a giant ivory whale at some parts of the video. Please note that I am not actually fat in real life. See the DecaAnnoying list for more details.)

7) Most importantly, my friends and colleagues came out to see it. Of course my family was missing from the picture, but that's why God made DVDs. Still, the place was packed--students sitting in the aisles--and it was just a room full of love and support.

How it was not like a wedding:

1) There was no reception or food. Later on in the day, though, a bunch of folks I know came out with me for drinks and eats, and we had ourselves a hell of a time.

2) It was inexpensive. The dress cost me next-to-nothing, and I didn't have to rent a hall or anything. I think the only thing I spent money on were downloads from iTunes, photocopies, and gifts for my accompanists and other helping hands. I don't even think anyone let me pay for drinks that evening either.

3) I didn't have to share the decision-making with anyone. That was nice.

4) I remained unmarried at the end of it. This might be my favorite part. I did have three accompanists share the stage with me, but none of them popped the question.

5) I don't have any pictures. Can you believe that? I forgot my camera and we had to vacate the recital hall quickly afterwards (there was something else going on in there), so I had zero photo-ops. Doesn't that just beat all? 

The recital was only an hour, but I have memories that will last forever. I'm glad I did it, and I think it went really well. I don't know what the future holds for me, but whether a wedding is ultimately part of the grand scheme of my life, I'm sure recitals will make appearances now and then. It was a magical day, a day where I looked like a sparkly princess, and I got to go home and be just me at the end of it. That felt perfectly right. 

~Hero