I watched the Emmy awards this evening. Even though I enjoyed the introduction to tonight’s award show, it still doesn’t change my opinion of Jimmy Fallon. Sorry bud, but I’m going to have to ask you to stop acting like a rockstar. However, I loved Neil Patrick Harris’s jab at him.
Well folks, wedding season is finally over. At least, mine is. The scrambling is over with for now until the next union. I haven’t blogged for days, and there are things in which you, the reader has missed out on. However, for as long as I am in Nebraska, I won’t have a life, so my updates will be a bit lackluster if you will.
I have survived the week of relatives. I have always felt family life in general deteriorating over the past 10 years and I always feel awkward and uncomfortable. I guess in my case, it’s the hiding who I am that makes it awkward and difficult. Perhaps it is cowardice of me to not want to come out fully until I’m moved out and have a steady career. I believe it is important to be myself and I know I can perform at my best when I am ‘myself.’ I’ve never been much of a risk taker, always thinking things thoroughly through. It also doesn’t help that my political and social views are the complete opposite. But I survived nonetheless. The wedding rehearsal/dinner went well, as did the wedding. But two days in uncomfortable shoes and a dress/skirt is enough for me.
I officially have signed my soul away to my hometown school district, becoming a substitute teacher. As I am unexcited about this plan of action due to my experiences with the school in the past (like the lack of support for the fine arts and my name being read off incorrectly at graduation), I’m hoping for learning experiences to come out of this. I’ve signed up to basically sub everything save math, science, sped, and ESL (I don’t feel THAT qualified). There was an immense amount of paperwork to fill out. It was odd being back at the high school, not really recognizing many of the faculty that work there. One of my former instructors stopped by the office I was in and was ecstatic to see me. I’m going to be honest; I’m petrified to sub in a classroom under 5th grade. Or a regular classroom setting in general. I guess what frightens me is the structure of it all. I’m used to seeing a different group of kids every hour or so. That and only teaching music. But I can get past that. I imagine Sky-town kids will be a lot easier to work with than the ones I had in Chicago that I honestly miss. And if I have trouble, I can always use the opening line of, “Hello. I lived in Chicago for half a year and worked with kids who live in some of the most dangerous neighborhoods of the south side. Let’s get class started, shall we?”
She & Him. How do I even begin? I have to say, they were one of the best live bands I’ve heard. I took K~ with me, it being her first time at the Anchor Inn in Omaha. I went there two years ago to see Jenny Lewis and Conor Oberst. The first time I took my best friend in the entire world with me. The Anchor Inn is located along the Missouri river, directly south of Eppley Airfield. Basically, it’s out in the boonies. You have to drive on poorly kept gravel roads to get there. But the place is pretty chill and amazing to see live shows at when the weather is nice. Three great moments: 1. Zooey Deschanel playing the Rhodes, 2. M. Ward bring out THE Mike Mogis to play with them, 3. Doing a cover of “Roll Over Beethoven” by The Beatles during their encore. And sooo many indie girls there. Heavens tibetsy (in a good way).
S~ leaves tomorrow for Romania and even though I’ve known about this all summer, I’m not ready for it. I became so accustomed to speaking with her just about every day and now I’ll probably be lucky if I hear from her once a week. It’s going to be a strange year. But perhaps this is a time to strengthen the friendships I have here.
I’ve been thinking about the things that I want to happen over this year.
I want to save up money.
I want to learn how to play my cello well.
I want to improve my violin and guitar skills.
I want to keep learning about music as well as learning to play new music.
I want to learn life skills like how to change a tire, how to change/check the oil, how to use a deep fryer (heck yes). Basic life skills we don’t think of until life happens. If I’m going to live independently in a year, I feel this is essential. We’ll see if I actually complete this task.
Keep reading. I’m about halfway through The World in Six Songs, and by golly, it’s fascinating.
S~, we’re good friends, you and I. Buddy.
There seems to be a common misunderstanding going around. A lot of people think I’ve been living in Chicago, or ask me why I’m not living in Chicago. I’ve been living in Nebraska since May and I can’t live there until I have money and a job there. Now that that’s cleared up…
I’ve been listening to a local band called Thunder Power. I’ve seen them perform twice. They originally drove me crazy mostly because of their lead singer’s vocal style. But their music is rather catchy and I’m becoming hooked. It’s like my relationship with Britney Spears. I was annoyed with the music at first and now I’m warming up to it. That probably isn’t the best example though. I still can’t understand anything this lead singer sings though. But kudos to them for still being around. I’d do almost anything to be creating music and performing with a band again.
Peace out.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Appalachian Spring
Every time I listen to Aaron Copland, I always wish he was still alive so I could give him a giant hug. While I was in Chicago, I had bought a book at a used bookstore in Hyde Park entitled The Queer Composition of America’s Sound: Gay Modernists, American Music, and National Identity by Nadine Hubbs that shows how a group of Manhattan-based gay composers (Aaron Copland, Leonard Bernstein, Virgil Thomson, etc.) crafted the “American sound.” I had started reading it while in Chicago and it became my plane ride literature. However, I haven’t gotten very far as it’s not an easy read. It’s been fascinating though. Currently I’ve been reading The World in Six Songs: How the Musical Brain Created Human Nature by Daniel J. Levitin. Before this, I had read his book This is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession. It was a great read, but some of it got repetitive and other times, dull. I am though highly enjoying his second book. There’s just a short little statement I’d like to share with you from the chapter I recently finished about joy:
“Like life, music speeds up and slows down, it breathes, it has peaks and valleys of emotion, it engages our attention more or less strongly, it holds us then lets us go, and then picks us up again.”
I love the description. For anyone who would like to learn a little more about music on his/her own, I would suggest reading This is Your Brain on Music. For someone who loves both science and music and has knowledge in both fields, I highly suggest reading The World in Six Songs. There are studies and comparisons made that make many things I experience as a musician make a lot more sense as of why I feel the way I do when I perform music, or even listen to music for that matter. There are a few things I’d like to mention that I have learned but I feel aren’t quite appropriate to discuss here (even though I ranted forever on civil liberty issues).
I have moved on to listening to Arvo Pärt’s Festina Lente. This was the first piece I saw performed at my very first orchestra performance. TOP~, my violin instructor for the first year and a half of my undergrad, had let me have her comp tickets to see the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra perform. I still have the program I believe. I was 18 when I saw my first symphony. And I loved every minute of it, especially Pärt’s piece. I’m sure many others have experienced this, but when I sat in my seat listening to this piece and picking my instructor out of the 1st violin section, my eyes welled up with tears while the music made me feel like I was sitting in a wind storm. It is still today one of the most emotionally grabbing pieces of music I have heard. TOP~ is one of the two instructors I’ve had who has played a role in why I want to become an orchestra instructor. If she would have been able to stay in Lincoln, who knows how great of a violinist I would have become, or even a violist since she decided to split my hour lesson in two during my last semester with her. Part violin, part viola. It was great. I continued lessons with the new instructor but withdrew about a month before the end of the semester. I didn’t find myself getting along with her and she was trying to turn me into something I didn’t want to become. And so, I haven’t taken a violin lesson since, which, honestly, is sad. But I at least stayed in orchestra and played violin on my own watch (more folk, fiddle, than classical). I miss the instructors who pushed me to become something well-rounded and diverse. Even though I’m not where I hope to be in my own playing, I hope to at least become a great instructor like the two women who pushed me in my violin studies during high school and beginning of college. I have a lot of growing to do in many aspects of my life. And the wonderful thing about being a musician is that there’s always room to grow. Slightly off path for a moment, this is one of the reasons why I want to move back to Chicago. I grew so much as a person while living there and I feel I can grow further. I am well aware it won’t be easy. I am going to provide you with another excerpt from The World in Six Songs:
“My father gave me a book written by George Plimpton called The X Factor that described how people become experts in their respective fields. Plimpton points out that successful people have had far more failures than unsuccessful people. Or course this seems paradoxical. But the resolution is this: People who eventually become successful have had many, many failures along the way, and what distinguishes them from the rest of the population is that they don’t give up. These leaders - corporate heads, expert chess players, actors, writers, athletes - look at failure differently than everyone else. First, when they fail, they don’t assume that there is anything wrong with them (“I’m not good enough,” “I suck”), nor do they figure that this is a permanent state (“I’m never going to get better,” “I will always suck”). Rather, they look upon each failure as a necessary step toward reaching their ultimate goal. People who become successful see the progress toward a goal as involving a number of steps that will inevitably produce some minor setbacks. “This is something that I need to know in order to reach my goal,” they say to themselves. “And until now, I didn’t even know that I needed to know this. This setback is an opportunity to now go about acquiring the knowledge that is necessary to succeed.””
As summer nears its end, I gain a glimpse more every day of what I want and where I want to go in this life. I know the next few years are going to be intense as I try to get my feet off the ground. I’m just looking forward to everything I’m going to pick up along the way.
“Like life, music speeds up and slows down, it breathes, it has peaks and valleys of emotion, it engages our attention more or less strongly, it holds us then lets us go, and then picks us up again.”
I love the description. For anyone who would like to learn a little more about music on his/her own, I would suggest reading This is Your Brain on Music. For someone who loves both science and music and has knowledge in both fields, I highly suggest reading The World in Six Songs. There are studies and comparisons made that make many things I experience as a musician make a lot more sense as of why I feel the way I do when I perform music, or even listen to music for that matter. There are a few things I’d like to mention that I have learned but I feel aren’t quite appropriate to discuss here (even though I ranted forever on civil liberty issues).
I have moved on to listening to Arvo Pärt’s Festina Lente. This was the first piece I saw performed at my very first orchestra performance. TOP~, my violin instructor for the first year and a half of my undergrad, had let me have her comp tickets to see the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra perform. I still have the program I believe. I was 18 when I saw my first symphony. And I loved every minute of it, especially Pärt’s piece. I’m sure many others have experienced this, but when I sat in my seat listening to this piece and picking my instructor out of the 1st violin section, my eyes welled up with tears while the music made me feel like I was sitting in a wind storm. It is still today one of the most emotionally grabbing pieces of music I have heard. TOP~ is one of the two instructors I’ve had who has played a role in why I want to become an orchestra instructor. If she would have been able to stay in Lincoln, who knows how great of a violinist I would have become, or even a violist since she decided to split my hour lesson in two during my last semester with her. Part violin, part viola. It was great. I continued lessons with the new instructor but withdrew about a month before the end of the semester. I didn’t find myself getting along with her and she was trying to turn me into something I didn’t want to become. And so, I haven’t taken a violin lesson since, which, honestly, is sad. But I at least stayed in orchestra and played violin on my own watch (more folk, fiddle, than classical). I miss the instructors who pushed me to become something well-rounded and diverse. Even though I’m not where I hope to be in my own playing, I hope to at least become a great instructor like the two women who pushed me in my violin studies during high school and beginning of college. I have a lot of growing to do in many aspects of my life. And the wonderful thing about being a musician is that there’s always room to grow. Slightly off path for a moment, this is one of the reasons why I want to move back to Chicago. I grew so much as a person while living there and I feel I can grow further. I am well aware it won’t be easy. I am going to provide you with another excerpt from The World in Six Songs:
“My father gave me a book written by George Plimpton called The X Factor that described how people become experts in their respective fields. Plimpton points out that successful people have had far more failures than unsuccessful people. Or course this seems paradoxical. But the resolution is this: People who eventually become successful have had many, many failures along the way, and what distinguishes them from the rest of the population is that they don’t give up. These leaders - corporate heads, expert chess players, actors, writers, athletes - look at failure differently than everyone else. First, when they fail, they don’t assume that there is anything wrong with them (“I’m not good enough,” “I suck”), nor do they figure that this is a permanent state (“I’m never going to get better,” “I will always suck”). Rather, they look upon each failure as a necessary step toward reaching their ultimate goal. People who become successful see the progress toward a goal as involving a number of steps that will inevitably produce some minor setbacks. “This is something that I need to know in order to reach my goal,” they say to themselves. “And until now, I didn’t even know that I needed to know this. This setback is an opportunity to now go about acquiring the knowledge that is necessary to succeed.””
As summer nears its end, I gain a glimpse more every day of what I want and where I want to go in this life. I know the next few years are going to be intense as I try to get my feet off the ground. I’m just looking forward to everything I’m going to pick up along the way.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Dash 7
I have nothing insightful to say as I sit here watching Thunderheart on AMC. Nor do I really intend to write everyday. Val Kilmer isn’t the most convincing part-Sioux FBI agent. However, even though the movie is set in the Badlands of South Dakota, being Sioux works since it’s a Nebraskan tribe. But that’s not important.
Today has been an odd informational day. This morning I received an e-mail (I’m assuming automated to a degree) from HR from the Papillion-La Vista district (to which I applied to for the accompanist position) basically saying ‘thank you for applying, etc.’ I checked last night to see if the position was still up on the district website and it was finally taken down. Either they found someone or just took it down. Last night I got offered a place to stay at in Omaha by a friend. Him and his wife have a spare bedroom I could use. Later this afternoon I received an e-mail from the woman I had to send my résumé and such to from the ACLU that she was reviewing résumés at the moment and plans to schedule interviews soon. THEN, I received a letter in the mail from Carson Elementary, the school I interviewed at in Gage Park, basically telling me thank you for applying, they found someone who matched what they were looking for, and good luck on your job search. I interviewed for that job like…a month ago? Well, it was nice of them to at least send something like that. However, other than learning that that position was a 2 in 1 deal, after the two shootings that happened in the past two weeks right by the school, it makes me feel a little better I didn’t get it.
And so the coming days will be spent in preparation for my cousin’s wedding that is next weekend (which will be followed by seeing She & Him). The house will be a little crazy in a few days.
Random thought of the day: I wonder what Sarah Palin would be like if she had a sassy gay friend, or 5. Like, if the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy would have taken her in years ago, what would she be like?
Bird in the hand:
Worth at least two in the bush.
Peace out.
Today has been an odd informational day. This morning I received an e-mail (I’m assuming automated to a degree) from HR from the Papillion-La Vista district (to which I applied to for the accompanist position) basically saying ‘thank you for applying, etc.’ I checked last night to see if the position was still up on the district website and it was finally taken down. Either they found someone or just took it down. Last night I got offered a place to stay at in Omaha by a friend. Him and his wife have a spare bedroom I could use. Later this afternoon I received an e-mail from the woman I had to send my résumé and such to from the ACLU that she was reviewing résumés at the moment and plans to schedule interviews soon. THEN, I received a letter in the mail from Carson Elementary, the school I interviewed at in Gage Park, basically telling me thank you for applying, they found someone who matched what they were looking for, and good luck on your job search. I interviewed for that job like…a month ago? Well, it was nice of them to at least send something like that. However, other than learning that that position was a 2 in 1 deal, after the two shootings that happened in the past two weeks right by the school, it makes me feel a little better I didn’t get it.
And so the coming days will be spent in preparation for my cousin’s wedding that is next weekend (which will be followed by seeing She & Him). The house will be a little crazy in a few days.
Random thought of the day: I wonder what Sarah Palin would be like if she had a sassy gay friend, or 5. Like, if the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy would have taken her in years ago, what would she be like?
Bird in the hand:
Worth at least two in the bush.
Peace out.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Pink Triangle
This entry will probably offend someone. Just a heads up. It gets political.
I have applied to be an accompanist for a high school in one of the suburbs south of Omaha, just short of being full time. I have also applied to be an executive assistant with ACLU Nebraska at their Lincoln office. Both positions would be great. On one hand, I’d still be working with music. Just playing piano. A lot of piano. On the other hand, I’d be working for social justice causes which I’ve also always wanted to do at some point in my life. My mom doesn’t quite understand what the ACLU is, and I’m not sure if she wants me to work for them or not (not saying I’m going to get the position). I explain to her that it’s the American Civil Liberties Union. The only way she knows who they are is from something she heard about recently about a recent racial profiling case in Nebraska (and not the Fremont Immigration case surprisingly). I was supposed to explain more to her about it last night but it never happened. I’m sure if I explain a bit more, she’d be ok. There are slight external judgmental factors though (not that I really care). I’m all gung-ho (or is it gun-ho?) for this position. But if I would get it, and have to explain to my relatives where I work, oh heavens! I’m sure when I say American Civil Liberties Union, they would be, “Ok…” But to go in depth, that will cause controversy. “I work to protect the civil liberties of the people of this country.” And following that would be, “Alright… That still doesn’t tell me anything.” Then must come the nitty gritty. Remember, this is conservative Nebraska. And although not everyone in Nebraska is conservative, a good percentage is. That means LGBTQI, reproductive rights, and immigration issues are, well, an issue. Following the Arizona immigration case came the Fremont, NE case. Ever my hometown was mentioned in the New York Times because of the Fremont case that the ACLU was taking on. This region of Nebraska has undergone a lot of changes in the past 15 years. Sky-town is a meat packing plant town of about 5,400 people (the smell of the plant is one thing I DON’T miss whenever I leave the area). Cargill what used to be Excel. The town is probably 75% Hispanic now, followed by white, two Chinese families, and a few black families. We are also a farm town. There are two stoplights and a school system that has gotten way out of hand. Sky-town is the county chair. Anywho…
There is a lot of racial tension in the town. People thought it would such a culture shock when I would go to Chicago, and it was the opposite. The majority of my orchestra students were Hispanic so it was sort of like being back ‘home.’ The students were like the kids I hung out with and went to school with. There is a lot of aggravation I guess you’d call it. And a generation gap. People over the age of 35 say, “Mexican.” People under the age of 35 say, “Hispanic or Latino/a.” I can understand both sides of the argument. I don’t agree with what Arizona is doing, but I still think the country has a problem. This will most likely be an issue I will continue to stay out of. This is all my relatives talk about when they congregate and then I get upset every time they say “Mexicans” when not everyone around here is Mexican.
Reproductive rights. This will always be a sore subject for as long as this country remains to be the United States. Do realize that this country is based on “the pursuit of happiness” meaning we will never be happy. However, Nebraska actually did something good for once. Nebraska LB 594 “would have required doctors to do extensive screening of women seeking abortions. It would have made the doctors subject to wrongful death lawsuits if screenings fell short.” District Court Judge Laurie Smith Camp ruled to block the anti-abortion bill. Attorney General Jon Bruning will not appeal, saying it would be a waste of money with little chance of winning and that it was evident from the judge’s ruling that LB 594 would be found unconstitutional (does this sound like something else from recent news? Hmm???). This was all taken from the Omaha World Herald.
And so we leave the big guns to the end; LGBTQI rights. LGBTQI persons and allies have experienced a whirlwind over the past few weeks with Prop 8 in California, Judge Walker striking it down, saying it was “unconstitutional” and waiting until August 18th for marriages to commence only to be put on hold again. As impatient as we humanly are, those of us in support for marriage to continue, we want to get the ball a rollin’. But for how much of a fight we’ve put up with so far, I think it would be wise to take it slow so we can push this to the Supreme Court. If this would go through, this could be probably the most historical event of our lives (at least for mine). But I don’t want people to forget about all the other work that needs to be done. Gay marriage is and has always been in the main spotlight. DATD was out for like a month and now is on the back burner. I still don’t even understand why that is an issue. Gays can’t serve openly in the U.S. Military when there are countries all over that allow it. I would like for the roles to be reversed some time and say that heterosexual couples can’t wear their wedding rings, have pictures of their families on their desks and never once mention his/her significant other. Heavens tibetsy, it’s not like as soon as a gay man joins the military, he’s going to go after every man he sees. Even if a gay person is promiscuous, how is that any different than a straight person’s promiscuity (and I’m not saying all gays nor straights are promiscuous because that just doesn’t make sense)? There isn’t. So why is it even an issue? Back to other issues. Workers rights. I can be fired in Nebraska for being who I am. However, some places are finally including it in their rights (like the two places I recently applied to!).
I’m going to stop there because you all know that I could talk about this all night. I should probably refrain from talking about other political issues as well like the Ground Zero mosque and Bill O’Reilly. All I really want to say about the New York deal is; does anyone else think this sounds like a situation we’ve had in the past? Like… WWII when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and then the U.S. created internment camps? Like a group of people from another country did something to ours so we’re going to punish those who live here? Everyday I look at the Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times on my phone just to keep update on current events and there was an article about Mayor Daley believing that the quest should be more towards creating a memorial at Ground Zero and not worrying about thinking it’s wrong to build a mosque blocks away from Ground Zero which really the people who want to build it don’t follow the same Muslim beliefs that Bin Laden does. Now if it was a Nazi or KKK group, then yes, we should be worried and something should be said. Plus, what’s with the news caring about what religion Obama follows recently? I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal if he’s Christian or not. So much for being ‘united’, right? The United States rated at #11 in the best countries in the world in Newsweek magazine. IN THE WORLD. Canada beat the United States. Sweden beat the United States. FINLAND made #1. Now, I’m going to admit, I have a slight beef with Finland. It’s a petty beef that really doesn’t matter anymore. It involves someone who came from there and studied at my college and then dated the person I liked for a long time. But then that was over with and then we started dating (not the Finnish girl and I) and it was ok until I was dumped, again. But like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is what’s supposed to be the most powerful country in the world didn’t even rate in the top 10. I think the country needs to take a tip or ten from Europe for a bit. Maybe? Perhaps. In this current stage, if I were to think of the main problem for why our country is spiraling downwards, I would say religion. I consider myself Christian. I was baptized Presbyterian. The flaw that I see is how some people believe we need to follow God’s law in a country that is to separate religion and government. You know darn well people are lying when they say gays shouldn’t marry because it goes against all morals. Some say it’s even bestial. WHAT? REALLY? How often do you hear of homosexuals having intercourse with animals? Never. Heterosexuals? Every once in a while. It’s those special cases that you read on the internet when you’re really bored. Homosexuality in no way would destroy the institution of marriage. I think half of heterosexual couples in the country are already doing a good job at that. Divorce rates are at an all time high. “Think of the children!” If you are a gay parent, there is no guarantee your child will become gay. Most gay people come from heterosexual parenting. Then there are the people who believe gay people shouldn’t exist, that they should just all be hung (NOM says this, I kid you not, and we live in the 21st century?). Well, if gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex people come from heterosexual couples, shouldn’t we do away with the heterosexuals then? For Pete’s sake, we wouldn’t have a human population anymore. Besides, Dick Cheney has a lesbian daughter! I feel for every step the U.S. takes forward, two steps are taken back (Sarah Palin, Mitt Romney). If polls are showing that over half of the country believes gays should be able to be married, then what’s the big deal? And really, if you let homosexuals get married, think of how much that’ll boost the economy. You know darn well that some of the most extravagant weddings will be put on.
Ok, I’M REALLY GOING TO STOP THERE.
Alright.
I’m beginning to even reconsider moving to Lincoln if I don’t get a job there, or anywhere outside of Sky-town. The absolute best way to save up money for Chicago would be to live at home (even though I know how miserable I will be) and get a job nearby. I have become THAT determined to get out of here. I already know I wouldn’t have to pay rent or any deposits, water, electricity, etc., so that saves a butt ton of money there (speaking of butt tons, A~ and I figured how much a butt should be worth). We will see. I will be closeted and miserable, but that sure would be an easy way to save money so I can move to Chicago. Besides, I figure, people don’t come to visit me now, so they won’t visit me in Chicago (you know they would only visit in Chicago because of the tourist attractions). Even though I really do like driving, I’m getting tired of always paying visits and never being visited in return. Plus I’ve done far too much couch surfing this summer.
In other news, I found out my first significant other I had in college is now married. Yeah. All I can say is, “Weeeeeiiiiirrrrrrrddddd.”
Going back to this whole ‘living’ business. I listen to what a lot of other people are doing. Going to a different country. Going to a different state. Having a job that applies to his/her major. And then there’s me, typing this blog, an unemployed starving artist I suppose you could call it. However, I shouldn’t let this bring me down. I KNOW I shouldn’t let this bring me down. Perhaps I can think of this as a blessing in disguise. Maybe I need a break before I jump back into the water (even though in real life, I honestly can’t swim). The past 8 years of my life have been hectic. Maybe I need a year where I’m not in the classroom. I’m not doing really…anything. One of my friends has been the same boat as I. Trying to move out west when he can, and when the money or job runs out, then back to Nebraska to keep working to save up more money. I keep forgetting that there are millions of others just like me right now in the same position. Fresh out of college without a job, wanting to get out into the world and make a difference some way or another. I really do try to remind myself that it could be worse.
Back in my senior capstone class last fall, my professor (the greatest professor ever and whom I’ll miss because she quit NWU over this summer) had us make a timeline of our ideal lives from now until we die. From that point I wrote it last fall, it started with student teaching in Chicago, teaching in Chicago while getting my masters degree in conducting, finding my partner in crime, moving to the east coast to teach, possibly learn how to produce in a record studio, work with other bands, start a family, volunteer at an LGBTQIA community center, perform, etc. Some of this stuff was going on at the same time and some of it was sequential. I knew my dreams, and I knew what was logical. I knew what was a long shot, and I knew some of the things I knew I wanted to do for sure. Some people teach that if we take certain steps, we will ‘achieve our dreams.’ But I think we forget the external affects like economic downfall which plays a part in everyone’s life whether we are aware of it or not. I just have always felt that there was this pressure to go out and be something or someone as soon as I graduated. And considering the things I went through while in college (ie: holding my ground during my senior dialogue and then crying with Dr. F-Y in her office afterwards), this would make sense why I feel the way I do. I think I have proved myself enough in the months before graduation. I was the first ever music major to do the CCULC program from NWU, and survived with flying colors. Yeah, I proved myself enough for now. Anyway, the thing about my timeline was I never decided on an age to retire. I’ve never really seen myself stop working. I can’t imagine myself not working.
Frédéric Chopin had once said:
“Simplicity is the highest goal, achievable when you have overcome all difficulties. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.”
It’s so true. It’s so unbelievably true. Both in life and music.
Peace out.
I have applied to be an accompanist for a high school in one of the suburbs south of Omaha, just short of being full time. I have also applied to be an executive assistant with ACLU Nebraska at their Lincoln office. Both positions would be great. On one hand, I’d still be working with music. Just playing piano. A lot of piano. On the other hand, I’d be working for social justice causes which I’ve also always wanted to do at some point in my life. My mom doesn’t quite understand what the ACLU is, and I’m not sure if she wants me to work for them or not (not saying I’m going to get the position). I explain to her that it’s the American Civil Liberties Union. The only way she knows who they are is from something she heard about recently about a recent racial profiling case in Nebraska (and not the Fremont Immigration case surprisingly). I was supposed to explain more to her about it last night but it never happened. I’m sure if I explain a bit more, she’d be ok. There are slight external judgmental factors though (not that I really care). I’m all gung-ho (or is it gun-ho?) for this position. But if I would get it, and have to explain to my relatives where I work, oh heavens! I’m sure when I say American Civil Liberties Union, they would be, “Ok…” But to go in depth, that will cause controversy. “I work to protect the civil liberties of the people of this country.” And following that would be, “Alright… That still doesn’t tell me anything.” Then must come the nitty gritty. Remember, this is conservative Nebraska. And although not everyone in Nebraska is conservative, a good percentage is. That means LGBTQI, reproductive rights, and immigration issues are, well, an issue. Following the Arizona immigration case came the Fremont, NE case. Ever my hometown was mentioned in the New York Times because of the Fremont case that the ACLU was taking on. This region of Nebraska has undergone a lot of changes in the past 15 years. Sky-town is a meat packing plant town of about 5,400 people (the smell of the plant is one thing I DON’T miss whenever I leave the area). Cargill what used to be Excel. The town is probably 75% Hispanic now, followed by white, two Chinese families, and a few black families. We are also a farm town. There are two stoplights and a school system that has gotten way out of hand. Sky-town is the county chair. Anywho…
There is a lot of racial tension in the town. People thought it would such a culture shock when I would go to Chicago, and it was the opposite. The majority of my orchestra students were Hispanic so it was sort of like being back ‘home.’ The students were like the kids I hung out with and went to school with. There is a lot of aggravation I guess you’d call it. And a generation gap. People over the age of 35 say, “Mexican.” People under the age of 35 say, “Hispanic or Latino/a.” I can understand both sides of the argument. I don’t agree with what Arizona is doing, but I still think the country has a problem. This will most likely be an issue I will continue to stay out of. This is all my relatives talk about when they congregate and then I get upset every time they say “Mexicans” when not everyone around here is Mexican.
Reproductive rights. This will always be a sore subject for as long as this country remains to be the United States. Do realize that this country is based on “the pursuit of happiness” meaning we will never be happy. However, Nebraska actually did something good for once. Nebraska LB 594 “would have required doctors to do extensive screening of women seeking abortions. It would have made the doctors subject to wrongful death lawsuits if screenings fell short.” District Court Judge Laurie Smith Camp ruled to block the anti-abortion bill. Attorney General Jon Bruning will not appeal, saying it would be a waste of money with little chance of winning and that it was evident from the judge’s ruling that LB 594 would be found unconstitutional (does this sound like something else from recent news? Hmm???). This was all taken from the Omaha World Herald.
And so we leave the big guns to the end; LGBTQI rights. LGBTQI persons and allies have experienced a whirlwind over the past few weeks with Prop 8 in California, Judge Walker striking it down, saying it was “unconstitutional” and waiting until August 18th for marriages to commence only to be put on hold again. As impatient as we humanly are, those of us in support for marriage to continue, we want to get the ball a rollin’. But for how much of a fight we’ve put up with so far, I think it would be wise to take it slow so we can push this to the Supreme Court. If this would go through, this could be probably the most historical event of our lives (at least for mine). But I don’t want people to forget about all the other work that needs to be done. Gay marriage is and has always been in the main spotlight. DATD was out for like a month and now is on the back burner. I still don’t even understand why that is an issue. Gays can’t serve openly in the U.S. Military when there are countries all over that allow it. I would like for the roles to be reversed some time and say that heterosexual couples can’t wear their wedding rings, have pictures of their families on their desks and never once mention his/her significant other. Heavens tibetsy, it’s not like as soon as a gay man joins the military, he’s going to go after every man he sees. Even if a gay person is promiscuous, how is that any different than a straight person’s promiscuity (and I’m not saying all gays nor straights are promiscuous because that just doesn’t make sense)? There isn’t. So why is it even an issue? Back to other issues. Workers rights. I can be fired in Nebraska for being who I am. However, some places are finally including it in their rights (like the two places I recently applied to!).
I’m going to stop there because you all know that I could talk about this all night. I should probably refrain from talking about other political issues as well like the Ground Zero mosque and Bill O’Reilly. All I really want to say about the New York deal is; does anyone else think this sounds like a situation we’ve had in the past? Like… WWII when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and then the U.S. created internment camps? Like a group of people from another country did something to ours so we’re going to punish those who live here? Everyday I look at the Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times on my phone just to keep update on current events and there was an article about Mayor Daley believing that the quest should be more towards creating a memorial at Ground Zero and not worrying about thinking it’s wrong to build a mosque blocks away from Ground Zero which really the people who want to build it don’t follow the same Muslim beliefs that Bin Laden does. Now if it was a Nazi or KKK group, then yes, we should be worried and something should be said. Plus, what’s with the news caring about what religion Obama follows recently? I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal if he’s Christian or not. So much for being ‘united’, right? The United States rated at #11 in the best countries in the world in Newsweek magazine. IN THE WORLD. Canada beat the United States. Sweden beat the United States. FINLAND made #1. Now, I’m going to admit, I have a slight beef with Finland. It’s a petty beef that really doesn’t matter anymore. It involves someone who came from there and studied at my college and then dated the person I liked for a long time. But then that was over with and then we started dating (not the Finnish girl and I) and it was ok until I was dumped, again. But like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is what’s supposed to be the most powerful country in the world didn’t even rate in the top 10. I think the country needs to take a tip or ten from Europe for a bit. Maybe? Perhaps. In this current stage, if I were to think of the main problem for why our country is spiraling downwards, I would say religion. I consider myself Christian. I was baptized Presbyterian. The flaw that I see is how some people believe we need to follow God’s law in a country that is to separate religion and government. You know darn well people are lying when they say gays shouldn’t marry because it goes against all morals. Some say it’s even bestial. WHAT? REALLY? How often do you hear of homosexuals having intercourse with animals? Never. Heterosexuals? Every once in a while. It’s those special cases that you read on the internet when you’re really bored. Homosexuality in no way would destroy the institution of marriage. I think half of heterosexual couples in the country are already doing a good job at that. Divorce rates are at an all time high. “Think of the children!” If you are a gay parent, there is no guarantee your child will become gay. Most gay people come from heterosexual parenting. Then there are the people who believe gay people shouldn’t exist, that they should just all be hung (NOM says this, I kid you not, and we live in the 21st century?). Well, if gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex people come from heterosexual couples, shouldn’t we do away with the heterosexuals then? For Pete’s sake, we wouldn’t have a human population anymore. Besides, Dick Cheney has a lesbian daughter! I feel for every step the U.S. takes forward, two steps are taken back (Sarah Palin, Mitt Romney). If polls are showing that over half of the country believes gays should be able to be married, then what’s the big deal? And really, if you let homosexuals get married, think of how much that’ll boost the economy. You know darn well that some of the most extravagant weddings will be put on.
Ok, I’M REALLY GOING TO STOP THERE.
Alright.
I’m beginning to even reconsider moving to Lincoln if I don’t get a job there, or anywhere outside of Sky-town. The absolute best way to save up money for Chicago would be to live at home (even though I know how miserable I will be) and get a job nearby. I have become THAT determined to get out of here. I already know I wouldn’t have to pay rent or any deposits, water, electricity, etc., so that saves a butt ton of money there (speaking of butt tons, A~ and I figured how much a butt should be worth). We will see. I will be closeted and miserable, but that sure would be an easy way to save money so I can move to Chicago. Besides, I figure, people don’t come to visit me now, so they won’t visit me in Chicago (you know they would only visit in Chicago because of the tourist attractions). Even though I really do like driving, I’m getting tired of always paying visits and never being visited in return. Plus I’ve done far too much couch surfing this summer.
In other news, I found out my first significant other I had in college is now married. Yeah. All I can say is, “Weeeeeiiiiirrrrrrrddddd.”
Going back to this whole ‘living’ business. I listen to what a lot of other people are doing. Going to a different country. Going to a different state. Having a job that applies to his/her major. And then there’s me, typing this blog, an unemployed starving artist I suppose you could call it. However, I shouldn’t let this bring me down. I KNOW I shouldn’t let this bring me down. Perhaps I can think of this as a blessing in disguise. Maybe I need a break before I jump back into the water (even though in real life, I honestly can’t swim). The past 8 years of my life have been hectic. Maybe I need a year where I’m not in the classroom. I’m not doing really…anything. One of my friends has been the same boat as I. Trying to move out west when he can, and when the money or job runs out, then back to Nebraska to keep working to save up more money. I keep forgetting that there are millions of others just like me right now in the same position. Fresh out of college without a job, wanting to get out into the world and make a difference some way or another. I really do try to remind myself that it could be worse.
Back in my senior capstone class last fall, my professor (the greatest professor ever and whom I’ll miss because she quit NWU over this summer) had us make a timeline of our ideal lives from now until we die. From that point I wrote it last fall, it started with student teaching in Chicago, teaching in Chicago while getting my masters degree in conducting, finding my partner in crime, moving to the east coast to teach, possibly learn how to produce in a record studio, work with other bands, start a family, volunteer at an LGBTQIA community center, perform, etc. Some of this stuff was going on at the same time and some of it was sequential. I knew my dreams, and I knew what was logical. I knew what was a long shot, and I knew some of the things I knew I wanted to do for sure. Some people teach that if we take certain steps, we will ‘achieve our dreams.’ But I think we forget the external affects like economic downfall which plays a part in everyone’s life whether we are aware of it or not. I just have always felt that there was this pressure to go out and be something or someone as soon as I graduated. And considering the things I went through while in college (ie: holding my ground during my senior dialogue and then crying with Dr. F-Y in her office afterwards), this would make sense why I feel the way I do. I think I have proved myself enough in the months before graduation. I was the first ever music major to do the CCULC program from NWU, and survived with flying colors. Yeah, I proved myself enough for now. Anyway, the thing about my timeline was I never decided on an age to retire. I’ve never really seen myself stop working. I can’t imagine myself not working.
Frédéric Chopin had once said:
“Simplicity is the highest goal, achievable when you have overcome all difficulties. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.”
It’s so true. It’s so unbelievably true. Both in life and music.
Peace out.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Purple Keys
If I were to be diagnosed with anything that you could claim was a disease, it would be nostalgia. It feels strange to not be performing or working on music with others right now. It feels even stranger that Z~ has been living in Florida for about 2 weeks now. For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, how about you pull up a carpet square on the floor, sip some tea, and let me tell you a story that plays a huge roll in the past 2.5 years of my life.
Some of you may have heard me talking about “my band” or mention “The Candle Simon” from time to time. Back in high school during my senior year, I had a band called “Band Without Phillips.” This name came from that 1. we were obviously a band, 2. Mr. Phillips was the name of our school’s band director, and 3. we were band, without Mr. Phillips. And from there we set forth to rock. The group only consisted of myself and my friends C~ and J~. And we only played covers. Our repertoire was limited as we only really played “Blitzkrieg Bop” by the Ramones, “Woo Hoo” by the 5.6.7.8’s, and “C’mon, C’mon” by The Von Bondies. As graduation neared, I had written a song on piano and we performed it at commencement. Booyah! Band Without Phillips is the reason why I own a drum kit. Anywho…
I had left for college wanting to join a band. During my first year at NWU, a battle of the bands was held on campus and there was a group called Aria Fall. I liked them enough to make a sound recording of one of their songs on my phone and make a note of the name. I eventually befriended them on myspace to keep track of them and to listen to their music. Late in the spring that year, a bulletin was posted that they needed a keyboardist. I took a leap and responded to the bulletin. And…no reply. About a year later I get a message from out of the blue from a group called The Candle Simon saying that Aria Fall broke up, The Candle Simon was created, they needed a keyboardist, and for some unknown reason, my message was still in their inbox. Call it fate? Perhaps. I went to one of their practices and was inducted into The Candle Simon instantly. After I joined, the group consisted of three women and two men. Over time, the band made some changes to its membership as some left and had to be replaced. Music with the influenced sound of The Beatles, Weezer, and Oasis was created (with the exception of “Christine A” or “Letting Me Go” that I was told sounds like a Jimmy Eat World song) over about two years. Then there were the “Candy Says” by The Velvet Underground, “Happy Xmas” by John Lennon (I LOVED performing this), and “We Are The World” by Michael Jackson covers. The songs were mostly written by Z~ with the exception of three and a half by myself. However, the making of the music was put together by the group as a whole. And whenever no one knew what to do during a certain part, the only thing left to do was to say, “Christine. Solo!” Let’s just say THAT’s how I learned to do most of my improvisation.
As my time neared to depart for Chicago, we created the “Farewell to Christine Tour” that consisted of three shows in Lincoln; Knickerbockers, The Zoo Bar, and The Bourbon Theatre. Faces were to be melted and women’s hearts were to be broken. And I think we did just that. During and after this we began recording so we would have my instrumental and vocal parts on file for whoever was to replace me. Thing is, I was never replaced. The person who was to replace me stole the synthesizer. When I came back to Nebraska, I learned that The Candle Simon had never really practiced since I left. We could have formed back together over the summer, but our drummer left of Iowa for the summer for an opera internship. And so, our lead (as well as my former roommate as I moved in with him during the fall semester of my final year of college) Z~ had been recently hired by a television station in Florida. That was another thing; half of our band worked for 10/11 News in Lincoln.
This story is a background for my nostalgia. Performing with The Candle Simon was one of the best times I had during college. This made me the unconventional music major in the music department. And yes, I got a number. I got a phone number after the first show I played. And I was supposed to meet someone at my final show but she never showed up. Lame. That was ok though.
I have always written music whenever I could or whenever I was inspired and I am missing playing the music I would create. Currently I am in what I would call a songwriting season where lyricism begins to flow more easily than usual. It also helps that I have a handful of unrequited feelings in my pocket, years of heartbreak, and vivid illogical dreams full of metaphors to write about. But let’s not let that gets us down, shall we? Afterall, not EVERYTHING I’ve written is unhappy. The three songs I had contributed to The Candle Simon were;
Christine A or “Letting Me Go” - about heartbreak
Christine B or “A-OK” - about a professor I had
Christine C or “I Waited For You” - about frustration from a fling I was in where I wasn’t ever told when whatever you would call we were in was over
Ok, so 2 out of 3 were bad news. However, Christine C was only performed once and shall never be again by my request. The favorites are A and B because A is a rock song (and has continually been one of my favorite songs I’ve written) and B has a catchy hook. The .5 from earlier where I said I contributed 3.5 songs comes from a night where Z~ and I were jamming in the basement and decided to write a song together. He wrote the lyrics. I wrote the music and contributed the name Suzanne which is the girl that is sung about in the song (Suzanne is my middle name). Example: “Oh Suzanne, can you tell me where you are? I don’t know why you’ve gone away. Oh Suzanne, can you tell me where you are?” This is honestly one of my favorite songs from The Candle Simon era.
So Christine, why is your music the way it is? Well, I did write ONE happy song this summer. It’s like Tilly and the Wall meets The White Stripes. But once again, the person that it’s about is nothing but unrequited feelings and perhaps misunderstandings now (ie; see previous blog post). But why limit myself? Afterall, the world of songwriting can be put into six categories; friendship, joy, comfort, knowledge, religion, and love. And when you look at the past four years of my life, it’s rather tragic. Take this quote into mind:
"We mortals with immortal minds are only born for sufferings and joys, and one could almost say that the most excellent receive joy through suffering." - Ludwig van Beethoven
I guess what makes me being a musician so fitting is that I’m able to turn my life into art. This all got depressing fast.
S~ and I came up with a summer project; to write an album of music about our experiences over the past 8 months. I don’t remember how, but I created a song about “nice clean sheets” from something she said. This song was turned into an 80’s glam rock song. It’s like Lady Gaga+Journey+Survivor. It has most of the same chord progressions as “Bad Romance,” the rawness of Survivor, and the 80’s feel of Journey. Booyah!
That just may be the most time and effort I had ever put into writing a song. I’ve written a rap as well, but I haven’t recorded it yet, and there’s another song I’m supposed to write as requested that I haven’t decided what style I want it to be in. Perhaps I’ll stick to what I’m good at; writing folksy acoustic songs.
The last time The Candle Simon played (almost as a whole group, P~ was still in Iowa) was a few weeks ago at what was called The Final Jam Session because Z~ moved. We played a few Candle Simon songs as well as a few others that are off the wall. Just for Z~, I learned "A Day in the Life" and "I Am The Walrus" by The Beatles because 1. "A Day in the Life" is Z~'s favorite Beatles song and 2. Whenever we'd go to dueling pianos at Brewsky's in the Haymarket, he always requested it and never found anyone who could play it. And of course, I brought some of the piano music I had acquired while in Chicago as well as some of my newly purchased music. All of that means "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey and "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga was performed. I kid you not. It was the most brilliant moment of the night. "Don't Look Back In Anger" by Oasis didn't turn out so well. But the other two were a hit!
I have far more to tell you, but I think it would be wise to let it stop here and have this just be a music themed entry. As for now, I shall go back to listening to “I’m the star that you evolve around,” “purple taxis pick me up,” and “you can’t play those purple keys.”
Some of you may have heard me talking about “my band” or mention “The Candle Simon” from time to time. Back in high school during my senior year, I had a band called “Band Without Phillips.” This name came from that 1. we were obviously a band, 2. Mr. Phillips was the name of our school’s band director, and 3. we were band, without Mr. Phillips. And from there we set forth to rock. The group only consisted of myself and my friends C~ and J~. And we only played covers. Our repertoire was limited as we only really played “Blitzkrieg Bop” by the Ramones, “Woo Hoo” by the 5.6.7.8’s, and “C’mon, C’mon” by The Von Bondies. As graduation neared, I had written a song on piano and we performed it at commencement. Booyah! Band Without Phillips is the reason why I own a drum kit. Anywho…
I had left for college wanting to join a band. During my first year at NWU, a battle of the bands was held on campus and there was a group called Aria Fall. I liked them enough to make a sound recording of one of their songs on my phone and make a note of the name. I eventually befriended them on myspace to keep track of them and to listen to their music. Late in the spring that year, a bulletin was posted that they needed a keyboardist. I took a leap and responded to the bulletin. And…no reply. About a year later I get a message from out of the blue from a group called The Candle Simon saying that Aria Fall broke up, The Candle Simon was created, they needed a keyboardist, and for some unknown reason, my message was still in their inbox. Call it fate? Perhaps. I went to one of their practices and was inducted into The Candle Simon instantly. After I joined, the group consisted of three women and two men. Over time, the band made some changes to its membership as some left and had to be replaced. Music with the influenced sound of The Beatles, Weezer, and Oasis was created (with the exception of “Christine A” or “Letting Me Go” that I was told sounds like a Jimmy Eat World song) over about two years. Then there were the “Candy Says” by The Velvet Underground, “Happy Xmas” by John Lennon (I LOVED performing this), and “We Are The World” by Michael Jackson covers. The songs were mostly written by Z~ with the exception of three and a half by myself. However, the making of the music was put together by the group as a whole. And whenever no one knew what to do during a certain part, the only thing left to do was to say, “Christine. Solo!” Let’s just say THAT’s how I learned to do most of my improvisation.
As my time neared to depart for Chicago, we created the “Farewell to Christine Tour” that consisted of three shows in Lincoln; Knickerbockers, The Zoo Bar, and The Bourbon Theatre. Faces were to be melted and women’s hearts were to be broken. And I think we did just that. During and after this we began recording so we would have my instrumental and vocal parts on file for whoever was to replace me. Thing is, I was never replaced. The person who was to replace me stole the synthesizer. When I came back to Nebraska, I learned that The Candle Simon had never really practiced since I left. We could have formed back together over the summer, but our drummer left of Iowa for the summer for an opera internship. And so, our lead (as well as my former roommate as I moved in with him during the fall semester of my final year of college) Z~ had been recently hired by a television station in Florida. That was another thing; half of our band worked for 10/11 News in Lincoln.
This story is a background for my nostalgia. Performing with The Candle Simon was one of the best times I had during college. This made me the unconventional music major in the music department. And yes, I got a number. I got a phone number after the first show I played. And I was supposed to meet someone at my final show but she never showed up. Lame. That was ok though.
I have always written music whenever I could or whenever I was inspired and I am missing playing the music I would create. Currently I am in what I would call a songwriting season where lyricism begins to flow more easily than usual. It also helps that I have a handful of unrequited feelings in my pocket, years of heartbreak, and vivid illogical dreams full of metaphors to write about. But let’s not let that gets us down, shall we? Afterall, not EVERYTHING I’ve written is unhappy. The three songs I had contributed to The Candle Simon were;
Christine A or “Letting Me Go” - about heartbreak
Christine B or “A-OK” - about a professor I had
Christine C or “I Waited For You” - about frustration from a fling I was in where I wasn’t ever told when whatever you would call we were in was over
Ok, so 2 out of 3 were bad news. However, Christine C was only performed once and shall never be again by my request. The favorites are A and B because A is a rock song (and has continually been one of my favorite songs I’ve written) and B has a catchy hook. The .5 from earlier where I said I contributed 3.5 songs comes from a night where Z~ and I were jamming in the basement and decided to write a song together. He wrote the lyrics. I wrote the music and contributed the name Suzanne which is the girl that is sung about in the song (Suzanne is my middle name). Example: “Oh Suzanne, can you tell me where you are? I don’t know why you’ve gone away. Oh Suzanne, can you tell me where you are?” This is honestly one of my favorite songs from The Candle Simon era.
So Christine, why is your music the way it is? Well, I did write ONE happy song this summer. It’s like Tilly and the Wall meets The White Stripes. But once again, the person that it’s about is nothing but unrequited feelings and perhaps misunderstandings now (ie; see previous blog post). But why limit myself? Afterall, the world of songwriting can be put into six categories; friendship, joy, comfort, knowledge, religion, and love. And when you look at the past four years of my life, it’s rather tragic. Take this quote into mind:
"We mortals with immortal minds are only born for sufferings and joys, and one could almost say that the most excellent receive joy through suffering." - Ludwig van Beethoven
I guess what makes me being a musician so fitting is that I’m able to turn my life into art. This all got depressing fast.
S~ and I came up with a summer project; to write an album of music about our experiences over the past 8 months. I don’t remember how, but I created a song about “nice clean sheets” from something she said. This song was turned into an 80’s glam rock song. It’s like Lady Gaga+Journey+Survivor. It has most of the same chord progressions as “Bad Romance,” the rawness of Survivor, and the 80’s feel of Journey. Booyah!
That just may be the most time and effort I had ever put into writing a song. I’ve written a rap as well, but I haven’t recorded it yet, and there’s another song I’m supposed to write as requested that I haven’t decided what style I want it to be in. Perhaps I’ll stick to what I’m good at; writing folksy acoustic songs.
The last time The Candle Simon played (almost as a whole group, P~ was still in Iowa) was a few weeks ago at what was called The Final Jam Session because Z~ moved. We played a few Candle Simon songs as well as a few others that are off the wall. Just for Z~, I learned "A Day in the Life" and "I Am The Walrus" by The Beatles because 1. "A Day in the Life" is Z~'s favorite Beatles song and 2. Whenever we'd go to dueling pianos at Brewsky's in the Haymarket, he always requested it and never found anyone who could play it. And of course, I brought some of the piano music I had acquired while in Chicago as well as some of my newly purchased music. All of that means "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey and "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga was performed. I kid you not. It was the most brilliant moment of the night. "Don't Look Back In Anger" by Oasis didn't turn out so well. But the other two were a hit!
I have far more to tell you, but I think it would be wise to let it stop here and have this just be a music themed entry. As for now, I shall go back to listening to “I’m the star that you evolve around,” “purple taxis pick me up,” and “you can’t play those purple keys.”
Via Chicago
I broke down. I had a myspace blog, but who uses myspace anymore? I had intended to blog like the dickens during my Chicago residency, but never wrote once in it (journaling for class took the place of it and those of us who were in the program know how much it took to get ourselves to do so). With the cultural technological shift, I have chosen this route. Also, partially because a good friend of mine is departing for overseas for a year and this will help somewhat in keeping up to date with each other’s lives (along with various facebook messages back and forth and the occasional skype date once I can get my hands on internet that doesn’t involve a dial tone).
Before we get into the nitty gritty, I will leave a disclaimer. I do realize this is a public blog. This blog may amuse you (the reader), depress you, aggravate you, inspire you, etc. I apologize in advance if I say something that ignites the wrong fuse. I will try to keep my language clean and to not use specific names (which may eventually become confusing). Being that is this public, I can't say I'm going to trust that you don't share this information with other people. I will probably sound selfish throughout all of this, but isn't that what part of the purpose of these things are? Also, this being the first blog entry, I'm going to warn you. This one is extremely long, mostly because it consists of my Chicago story that I haven't fully told everyone. With that said…
Why “The Good That Won’t Come Out”? That was the title of my old blog that I used for four years. It’s also the first song I had ever heard by the band Rilo Kiley who has sat at the number one spot on my favorite bands list since my early high school days. And yes, I kept a myspace blog for four years. What I did do with all of those entries? I deleted them. Well, most of them save around 15 or so. I began deleting earlier this summer, needing a fresh start. I will admit, I’m a bit of a memory whore (Which may explain why I remember far more instances that happen than you. Yes you. You know who you are). There are far too many memories created during my undergraduate days I feel I no longer need to carry (hence, “timelines & tragedies”).
For many people I know, there are missing parts in the story they know about myself. This would include my departure to Chicago. Let’s begin there, because I know many of you haven’t gotten the ‘low down’ or anything in general other than facebook stalking me (don’t lie). I departed for Chicago, IL on Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 around 8:30AM. I made a call to my mom letting her know I got through security and then received a call from a friend/ex where her final words were, "I love you." I sat at Eppley Airfield alone, taking my first flight ever. Alone. It was emotional, frightening, yet exhilarating. I was more afraid of throwing up on the plane than it crashing. As my plane reached the city, I was in disbelief at where I was. It didn’t feel real. I was technically on my own in what can be compared to a foreign country. I had been to Chicago once before, but it was so structured and confined to where it wasn’t all too memorable and enjoyable. I figured out how to get my luggage by myself (all two suitcases) and took my first taxi ride (it was in one of those Scion vehicles that look like shoeboxes). I remember just gawking out the window at all of the old buildings and their character. It was an incredible feeling. I felt so much like a tourist. But the thing is, I was. At least, at that moment in time. I arrived at my apartment, “The Boulevard,” around 11:00AM, becoming the third person to move in. I remember right after meeting A~, our housing coordinator, I met S~ and I think his dad and right away I got asked if 1. I was a Huskers fan and 2. Did I have running water. Oh heavens tibetsy. I think he was joking about #2. I remember looking at the inside of the Boulevard and thinking how awesome this place was (I love, love, LOVE hardwood floors). I did many firsts that day. I ate Chicago style pizza which I was unsure how I felt about (sauce…ON TOP!?). I rode a public bus (CTA!). I went ice skating (which has been one of the most terrifying moments of my life). I shared a bedroom with someone for the first time since my first year of college. Orientation plus winter weather was intense. But I got a lot out of it. I also got lost in the city during our excursions we had to take (I wasn’t alone during this). And I learned how to protect myself if I was attacked (or at least, try to protect myself). After that first week of orientation, I knew that I wasn’t going to go back to Nebraska the same person. And I was excited about that. But at the same time, a part of me was still lingering back in Nebraska, not quite ready to fully let go.
My first student teaching placement was at Curie Metropolitan High School, located in Archer Heights. I remember being on the orange line for the first time and seeing the school from the train, comparing it to the size of two Target stores. My first day of student teaching, the first music faculty member I met was the department chair. Not all of the faculty members got there at the same time so I went almost two hours before I met my cooperating teacher. My first experience at Curie was watching this musician from South America do a demonstration with percussion instruments. My post was orchestra. Orchestra was one of the three reasons I wanted to student teach in Chicago. The other two reasons aren’t important right now. I won’t go into extreme detail about my student teaching experiences. Most of my students were bigger than I. I also got hit on on my first day. I don’t quite remember how I was actually broken in to the group. I guess that’s why I still have my journal from my seminar class to remind me. I had my own desk in the instrumental office, even though it was often covered in sheet music. I suppose from what I can remember from the top of my head is one of the ways that got me in with the students was sectionals. My group that was I guess my own were the violas. There weren’t many of them, and the number often fluctuated. After working with them so much, I often caught myself outside of the classroom counting to myself because that’s what the violas had the most trouble with (1-2, 1-2, 1-2-3). “Ghosts of Brandenburg” was the main beast to be tamed. Mr. B~, my cooperating teacher, handed the reins over to me to work “Adagio Cantabile”, otherwise known as Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor Op. 13, or the “Pathetique Sonata.” I am an incredible nerd and was ridiculously exciting to be able to conduct. How excited was I exactly? Let me reveal to you an embarrassing story. There was a night where our Chicago group went to a One-Act Play festival. Someone who I admire greatly and find incredibly enchanting spoke to me afterwards about my Curie experience so far. I began telling her that I was given a piece to conduct with the advanced orchestra and was really excited about this because I finally got to use my baton. I may have slapped my forehead a dozen times that night after realizing how dorky I must have sounded. But it was the truth.
The day finally came to where I would finally use my baton to conduct the advanced orchestra. And when I began, I realized they had no idea what I was doing. They didn’t know how to watch a conductor or read what the conductor was trying to convey to them. After that day, I planned for a conducting workshop day. Everyday at the beginning of class, both the intermediate and advanced orchestras would do warm-up exercises from this packet they had. A metronome would be played during each exercise they would play. Well, that day I turned the metronome off. I used some of their exercises and a few scales to help get certain points across. By golly, this worked. It actually worked. From that day on, “Adagio Cantabile” began to sprout life. It became more elegant and no longer sounded like just playing notes on a page. It was glorious. That day they also learned ‘the conducting stance.’ That tool right there just may be the reason I was able to work with inner city Chicago teens so well. However, I still question how I did it. How I got them to listen. To play. To begin to make music. Towards the beginning of my student teaching, there was a certain moment that became a turning point in knowing what I really had inside me and how the students would react towards me. Let’s just say, that was most I had ever exerted my voice the whole semester. I suppose I proved to them that I wasn’t just this nerdy white girl from Nebraska. But I also found out that one of the best tools to gaining their trust is just being yourself and talking with them. I always liked to ask questions. I also wanted the students to be able to listen to each other. I carry a lot of warm memories with me from Curie and I honestly cried the day I had to leave them. I wish I could have been there all semester because I felt I had left with unfinished business. And I still feel that way today. My final day was March 5th, or at least, technical day. I’ll explain later. I spent the following day with a few of my students at solo/ensemble competition because I was accompanying a student.
I began my second student teaching placement the following Monday, March 8th at Hampton Fine and Performing Arts School located in Auburn (when I say names like that, that means the neighborhood). I came on a day where testing was still going on. So, I only saw the Monday students for 15 minutes each. It was a bit of a disappointing day. I have mixed feelings about my Hampton experience, and the people I lived with know this. It was rough. It was honestly rough. I took the 15 bus to the 47th red line station, took the train to the 79th station, and rode the 79 bus to 79th and St. Louis. I rode in a dangerous neighborhood 5 days a week for 7 weeks. I honestly feared for my life during the beginning but felt better as time went by. I’ll be honest, I ran into a lot of rude people on the bus. But there were some that stick out that were incredibly pleasant. About 97% of my travel time to Hampton I was the only white person on the CTA (Chicago Transit Authority). Usually in the morning, the 79 bus was packed which made for an uncomfortable 40 minute ride (it took me an hour and 20 minutes to get there everyday). There was a day where I got on the bus and was packed towards the front. My bag accidentally nudged a girl in the hip and I got the stinkeye and a few rotten words right away. I apologized and tried to keep my messenger bag as close to my body as possible so I wouldn’t invade anyone’s personal space. These two older ladies who were sitting saw what happened. When someone next to them got off the bus, they offered me the empty seat. There was another moment where I was sitting towards the front of the bus and once again, it was full. An older lady had gotten on and no one budged to let her sit. And so, I got up and offered her my seat. Half of the bus just stared at me, I think partially in disbelief that the only white person on the bus gave up her seat.
There were days where the racial tension was thick. One day some younger girls were sitting across from me saying, “Cracker this, cracker that,” while giving me the stinkeye. It obviously was an awkward situation, but I just had to ignore it. That was the worst of it. I often wore my identification badge on my rides but made sure the actual ID was covered. All you could see was the lanyard peeking out from my collar. There was one day that a guy asked me what NMEA was (I had been using one of my NMEA lanyards for my badge). I had to explain to him that it was Nebraska Music Educators conference. I had to then explain I was from Nebraska and I was becoming a music teacher. As soon as he heard music, he asked if there were any recording studios in Nebraska. “Yes, there are a few. No, I’ve never been to any of them.” I enjoyed that conversation a lot because I totally opened up this guy’s eyes to a whole different world in a matter of minutes. Another enjoyable conversation was with this mother who sat down next to me. She asked me why I was so dressed up and I explained to her that I was becoming a music teacher. She was so fascinated by this and starting talking about her kids. It was fascinating to hear her point of view about her children’s education. My morning transit rides caused my mornings at Hampton to feel like they would just be flushed down the drain. However, not all my Debby Downer days were caused by my rides to school.
I rarely ever saw my students which was problematic. The students I saw the most were my Thursday students, 1st and 6th grade. Breaks, assemblies, PBIS training, and professional development were the cause. I had a heck of a time remembering names. But what I find fascinating is for how little I saw certain classes, the students became attached to me (my Curie students became attached as well but in a teenage sense). Whenever I had a moment where I was working one on one with a student, it was like an interrogation each time. “Where are you from?” “Where is that?” “Is that your real hair color?” “How do you get your eyebrows to match your hair?” “Why do you wear ties?” “Why are you not wearing a tie today?” “How old are you?” “Are you Ms. M~’s daughter?” “Is that your real eye color?” Yes, I really got asked those questions. Because I saw my first graders the most, they became extremely attached. My cooperating teaching, Ms. M~, gave me the task of beginning a primary choir, consisting of select students from 1st-3rd grade. This was I guess what you’d call, “My baby.” Kind of like “Adagio Cantabile.” I picked out the music and taught the hour how I wanted to teach it. I wanted my students to be knowledgable of the music I grew up with. Out of the three songs I chose to start with, the one I knew was “Kookaburra.” None of my students had ever heard of it. As much as I wanted to teach it, I knew was going to run into a problem. The end of the original song, the final line is, “gay your life must be.” Most of my students didn’t snicker, but a few did. I had one day where a student freaked out because of the line. I had a short talk with her after class. That was another issue that was overcome.
Long have I had the fear of being who I am and eventually getting fired for it. Because Lord knows it happens in Nebraska. I didn’t know my 7th and 8th grade students all too well. There was a bit of an incident towards the end of my student teaching. It was a day where the students were working and of course, every class has it’s class clown. This particular student wouldn’t stop talking so my cooperating teacher invited him up to the front of the class along with the boy he was speaking with. She wanted to try an experiment. She would have both boys tell each other a story at the same time and have them try to listen to each other as they spoke. This was to have them see what it’s like to try to speak when someone else is trying to speak over you. But instead, some unnecessary words were spoken during the process. As one of the boys began his story, the words, “I hate gay people,” flew out of his mouth. Right at that moment, my cooperating teacher stopped them. Class ended and she spoke to him after class, demanding he write an apology letter for what he said. I was furious and at the same time I wanted to cry. I felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my butt. I felt sick. And I was supposed to teach the next class. I almost had asked my coop if she’d teach but I sucked it up and taught the following class. I brought up what had happened in that class of older students and just, well, did it. I came out to my cooperating teacher. And she was cool with it. From that point on, I felt comfortable in my skin, and I was opened up to a whole new world. It was truly liberating. This totally changed how I conversed with my cooperating teacher.
Towards the end of my student teaching, I had some brilliant things happen. But I realize this is already incredibly long right now, so I’m sure I’ll write about them at another time. On my final day of student teaching, May 7th, I took a bus north to Curie after school from Hampton to see Mr. B~ and my students a ‘final’ time. When spring break came around, I went back to Curie for a week while my Hampton students were on a two week spring break. The Saturday of that week at CPS large ensemble competition, I made my cooperating teacher tear up. Never have I made a grown man cry. Never have I thought I had left so much of an impact on a place and a group of people. Back to my final day of student teaching. After I left Curie, I cried on the orange line to downtown (not the whole ride). I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better student teaching experience, and even though my Hampton experience was a ride and a half, Curie has left me with many fond memories.
After all of that teaching stuff, I’m sure you want to know what I did OTHER THAN teach. We got to know the Chicago tourists don’t see. During my four months living in the city, never did I; visit Navy Pier (the closest I got was being in a vehicle that drove up to it), go to the Field museum, go the aquarium, walk on the beach (cold weather!), eat at Dunkin Donuts (I honestly have never been to one). I went to the Lyric Opera to see The Marriage of Figarro (and wore my tux!), saw Billy Elliot, sat by Lake Michigan, ate at The Original Pancake House (LOVE), fell head over heels with Giordano’s, Moon Palace, and Hyde Park Gyro’s, went to the Art Institute (twice), ate at Anne Sather, went to a White Sox game (a forever memorable experience). I visited Andersonville by myself to find the People’s Music School. H~, S~, and I stayed up (or tried) all night after an amazing time in Boystown to watch the sunrise at Lake Michigan (Day of Silence). I traveled all the way to Northwestern University in Evanston by myself to watch a violin teacher teach the most adorable students I have ever seen (itty bitty violins!!!). I saw the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform Stravinsky. Visited the Sears Tower and Millennium Park on a field trip with my Hampton students. I composed music on a table cloth at the Mity Nice Grill on Michigan Avenue. There were many ridiculously amazing, confusing, and aggravating moments. We lived a weekend without heat and hot water during the cold winter. We experienced the separation of the floor, but at the same time, gained new friends (Super Bowl). I was outed to my roommates without my consent. A flirtation had begun between myself and someone else after the first weekend of March that would last the entire time there and never develop into anything no matter how many attempts I tried to arrange a get-together to talk, and failed miserably. I got back to the Boulevard at 3:30AM that night. Goose Island 312 became my favorite beer. Howl At The Moon became one of the top two best nights of my entire life. I also realized how awful of a dancer I must be (proof is found in a video of myself dancing to “Bad Romance” at Howl At The Moon) and how much 14 years of dance must have not have worked. I played piano in the basement at 1:00AM with amazing singers to sing along to The Phantom of the Opera. I also infected the Boulevard one “ra ra ah ah ah, roma, ro ma ma, ga ga oo la, la” at a time along with my dear friend A~. I camped out often on school nights in S~’s room, just talking. I drank a lot of Dr. Pepper and danced awkwardly in the kitchen. I also cleaned a lot and became incredibly sarcastic when needed. I found a miniature secret door in the floorboards in the living room. I walked around downtown Chicago with a gallon of orange juice in my messenger bag one night. I educated my closest roommates about LGBTQI issues and constantly reminded them about the crap I put up with (ex. “as least you can get married wherever you want and not get fired for being who you are”). I had glass shower doors crash down on me after I showered. I washed a lot of dishes. I ate actual pie for the first time. I knocked on H~’s door probably one too many times after school just to say hello. I had a Xena. I helped a student receive superior contest ratings. I said a lot of weird things (and still do). I hauled my iMac in my messenger bag on the bus all the way to the Apple Store. (my computer eventually bit the dust, right after I arrived back in Nebraska, the display went out). I didn’t feel comfortable practicing my conducting in front of my roommates. I often felt like the best dressed which is ironic (I don’t mean to sound cocky). I told my roommate A~ that she looked like a headmistress after a few of my roommates tried dressing her. I went to the Falcon Inn only twice and the Woodlawn Tap only twice. I spent my 22nd birthday at a professional development day, followed by visits to the Woodlawn Tap and Falcon Inn. I actually watched a full season of American Idol for the first time and consistently yelled at the television during critiques. I quoted so many lines to Juno, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and Little Miss Sunshine with my roommates. I sang “Don’t Rain On My Parade” almost every time I did my laundry in the basement. I played piano when I was sure no one was listening. I was asked, "What do you do with your hands in your spare time?" and then showed that person what lesbian protection looks like. I learned it takes two girls to open and close a window. I dedicated songs in candlelit rooms. I bought a Dr. Horrible comic book and some Czech music on vinyl. I got angry every time someone mentioned the chore chart. I threw away the chore chart during everyone’s last week together. I thought the Pulaski Day dinner party was brilliant. I became a White Sox fan (don’t hate!). I Cajun danced with Nancy. TWICE. I also danced with two old men. I was sad the Greek music store burned down a week before I visited it in Greektown. I grew to despise the 15 bus. I was unexpectedly outed to a relative who wasn’t supposed to know. I never did get to go to Jamba Juice. I learned where the fuse box was. Fast. I sat on the floor in the hallway with my roommates talking and teaching S~ about pop culture. I taught people the benefits of being a musician at Panera Bread. I carried my computer and bedding seven blocks to the post office. I sang in a choir. I was enchanted. I was inspired. I was emotional. I was frightened. I was confident. I was many things. All of which have led me to become who I am now. And so, May 8th rolled around and I made a tearful ride to Midway Airport to fly back to Nebraska. I am going to be honest and say that my Chicago experience has been the best time of my life so far.
I returned to Nebraska around 5:30PM and stayed in Lincoln for a bit that night to see Wesleyan’s opera production of Hansel and Gretel. The next day I saw RENT. A day and half back in Nebraska and I feel like a stranger. Barely anyone recognized me. Barely anyone spoke to me. Nebraska no longer felt like home as I was chauffeured around Omaha and Lincoln. I stayed the night in Lincoln Sunday and returned Monday night. I minute after I was back in my house, my cooperating teacher from Curie called. An emergency happened and he was no longer able to be at the orchestra concert that was to happen that Wednesday night and said that I was the first person he thought of to take his place. He knew I was back in Nebraska already but after speaking with the principal, he wanted to be sure of what I was doing. I was offered to conduct the advanced orchestra at their concert. Sadly, I had to decline. I couldn’t afford the flight on such short notice and he couldn’t get Curie to pay for my flight. I graduated days later. Before all of us CCULC students left, we were warned that when we would return to where we came from, we may run into people who block what they don’t want to hear. I ran in that instantly and still do today. Most of the professors I spoke to, all they cared about was the touristy things of Chicago. My time spent there was far from that.
Now that I’m back in Nebraska with a music degree, what am I doing with myself now? To be honest, not a whole heck of a lot. I have visited Chicago twice this summer; one trip for Chicago Pride, to visit the Old Town School of Folk Music (that never happened because no one got back to me about interviewing even though my résumé was reviewed), to see my dear friend S~ and to see A~ that never happened. I got incredibly sunburned, but it was worth it. What wasn’t worth it was someone stepping on a ketchup packet and ketchup squirting all over my favorite khaki shorts. That was an awkward ride back to Hyde Park. I also made my first visit EVER to 7Eleven! I kid you not! I proudly wore my bow tie that weekend. The second visit was for an interview with an elementary school in Gage Park that turned out weird. I also took my Illinois certification tests in Mount Greenwood and got sunburned, again. S~ and I deemed that weekend to be S~ and Christine’s BGW. We had a pleasant time in Lake View as well as just hanging out eating food from Hyde Park Gyro’s and watching Little Miss Sunshine. That was the last time I saw S~ face to face as she’ll be leaving the country in two weeks for a year to teach. Basically, what I’ve been doing all summer is living with my parents in Sky-town, applying for every CPS music position I feel qualified for, sorting through my possessions (which I swear seems to never end), making music (specifically the Chicago album that was inspired by ‘some nice clean sheets’), and trying to get back in touch with old friends. I felt like more people from Nebraska kept in touch with me while I was in Chicago than they do now. I feel like I’m almost having to force people now to talk to me and it’s getting awfully frustrating. I feel like I have half the friends now than I did before I left Chicago. But then again, I gained a handful when I came to Chicago. They just happen to live all over the country and not in Nebraska.
And so, it’s already mid-August. I’ve had a few bites from people in Chicago about jobs, one interview and have been screwed out of having an interview (let’s not get into that right now). I’ve received my Nebraska Educator’s Certificate, have been working on getting my Illinois Educator’s Certificate, and am still without a job. After leaving Chicago, my plan was to go back as soon as possible, get a few part time jobs and live with S~. That obviously didn’t happen. The next plan was to keep applying for CPS music positions and hope to land one and move to Chicago. That hasn’t happened. It doesn’t help that hundreds of teachers were laid off, music programs were being cut and the state is broke. And so, with the rest of CPS beginning school in 2.5 weeks, living in Chicago is looking grim/unlikely. I continually get the, “You should have applied to schools in Nebraska, even if they were small,” speech. But I’m stubborn and I have my sights set. There was a moment last week where I really questioned if I wanted to really move to Chicago anymore. This whole job search had gotten me down and ridiculously frustrated with myself. When you think about it, really think about it, why would anyone want to move to Chicago? Pollution, high taxes, plenty of violence, pricey, politically corrupt, poor education system. All reasons to make a person reconsider moving. I felt this way for about a day and rethought things. I have a picture that I took on the bridge on Michigan Avenue after a few of my roommates and I went out for supper (the night of the Mity Nice Grill). Always has it been my favorite picture I have taken of the city. I remember while I was standing there during that moment, it felt magical and enchanting. Almost like the feeling I got when I performed shows with my band. Even though that spot is a tourist destination, I knew that if I moved there, I could visit that spot almost whenever I wanted and feel that all over again. In a city so large and full of life and culture, I felt at home. I missed walking around Hyde Park. I missed riding the orange line. I missed walking up and down N. Halsted late at night. Even though it looks as if I’ll be spending another year in Nebraska, I aim to return to Chicago. I feel as if I have unfinished business. There are art galleries, theatres, neighborhoods, small shops, restaurants, music venues, dive bars, etc., that have yet to be explored. Besides, Mr. B~ said if he could, he’d love for me to teach by his side at Curie.
August is here and it is already beginning to feel like a Nebraska October (it got down to 57ºF one night). This year will be spent saving money, paying bills/loans, continually learning about music (I need to really work on my cello skills), soul searching, figuring out what else I want from life, and making up for lost time with the people I love in Nebraska and still keeping in touch with the ones that aren’t. I’ve already begun to cut my pop habits down (it got bad while student teaching) and drink more water. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in Chicago. I actually want to eventually move to either Massachusetts (or somewhere on the east coast) or Washington state and when I get old and wrinkled, retire to Vermont (I want to be able to sit on a porch in a rocking chair, sip iced tea and listen to jazz records on summer evenings). Before I assembled with my classmates the day of commencement, a girl I went to school with told me that she always believed I’ll be one of the people from our graduating class who will make a difference in the world. It was incredible to be told something like that from someone whom I hadn’t had a real conversation with since probably my second year of college. A few friends and even my site supervisor have said that Chicago needs me. By golly, I’m trying.
As all of us are on journeys of our own right now, whether it is to a different country, state, whatever, let me leave you with a few words to keep in mind. If I have learned anything from my experience in Chicago, it is this. My Curie coop would tell me, “It is never “goodbye.” Instead, it is “see you later” because you never know what could happen. So, I’ll see you later.”
Before we get into the nitty gritty, I will leave a disclaimer. I do realize this is a public blog. This blog may amuse you (the reader), depress you, aggravate you, inspire you, etc. I apologize in advance if I say something that ignites the wrong fuse. I will try to keep my language clean and to not use specific names (which may eventually become confusing). Being that is this public, I can't say I'm going to trust that you don't share this information with other people. I will probably sound selfish throughout all of this, but isn't that what part of the purpose of these things are? Also, this being the first blog entry, I'm going to warn you. This one is extremely long, mostly because it consists of my Chicago story that I haven't fully told everyone. With that said…
Why “The Good That Won’t Come Out”? That was the title of my old blog that I used for four years. It’s also the first song I had ever heard by the band Rilo Kiley who has sat at the number one spot on my favorite bands list since my early high school days. And yes, I kept a myspace blog for four years. What I did do with all of those entries? I deleted them. Well, most of them save around 15 or so. I began deleting earlier this summer, needing a fresh start. I will admit, I’m a bit of a memory whore (Which may explain why I remember far more instances that happen than you. Yes you. You know who you are). There are far too many memories created during my undergraduate days I feel I no longer need to carry (hence, “timelines & tragedies”).
For many people I know, there are missing parts in the story they know about myself. This would include my departure to Chicago. Let’s begin there, because I know many of you haven’t gotten the ‘low down’ or anything in general other than facebook stalking me (don’t lie). I departed for Chicago, IL on Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 around 8:30AM. I made a call to my mom letting her know I got through security and then received a call from a friend/ex where her final words were, "I love you." I sat at Eppley Airfield alone, taking my first flight ever. Alone. It was emotional, frightening, yet exhilarating. I was more afraid of throwing up on the plane than it crashing. As my plane reached the city, I was in disbelief at where I was. It didn’t feel real. I was technically on my own in what can be compared to a foreign country. I had been to Chicago once before, but it was so structured and confined to where it wasn’t all too memorable and enjoyable. I figured out how to get my luggage by myself (all two suitcases) and took my first taxi ride (it was in one of those Scion vehicles that look like shoeboxes). I remember just gawking out the window at all of the old buildings and their character. It was an incredible feeling. I felt so much like a tourist. But the thing is, I was. At least, at that moment in time. I arrived at my apartment, “The Boulevard,” around 11:00AM, becoming the third person to move in. I remember right after meeting A~, our housing coordinator, I met S~ and I think his dad and right away I got asked if 1. I was a Huskers fan and 2. Did I have running water. Oh heavens tibetsy. I think he was joking about #2. I remember looking at the inside of the Boulevard and thinking how awesome this place was (I love, love, LOVE hardwood floors). I did many firsts that day. I ate Chicago style pizza which I was unsure how I felt about (sauce…ON TOP!?). I rode a public bus (CTA!). I went ice skating (which has been one of the most terrifying moments of my life). I shared a bedroom with someone for the first time since my first year of college. Orientation plus winter weather was intense. But I got a lot out of it. I also got lost in the city during our excursions we had to take (I wasn’t alone during this). And I learned how to protect myself if I was attacked (or at least, try to protect myself). After that first week of orientation, I knew that I wasn’t going to go back to Nebraska the same person. And I was excited about that. But at the same time, a part of me was still lingering back in Nebraska, not quite ready to fully let go.
My first student teaching placement was at Curie Metropolitan High School, located in Archer Heights. I remember being on the orange line for the first time and seeing the school from the train, comparing it to the size of two Target stores. My first day of student teaching, the first music faculty member I met was the department chair. Not all of the faculty members got there at the same time so I went almost two hours before I met my cooperating teacher. My first experience at Curie was watching this musician from South America do a demonstration with percussion instruments. My post was orchestra. Orchestra was one of the three reasons I wanted to student teach in Chicago. The other two reasons aren’t important right now. I won’t go into extreme detail about my student teaching experiences. Most of my students were bigger than I. I also got hit on on my first day. I don’t quite remember how I was actually broken in to the group. I guess that’s why I still have my journal from my seminar class to remind me. I had my own desk in the instrumental office, even though it was often covered in sheet music. I suppose from what I can remember from the top of my head is one of the ways that got me in with the students was sectionals. My group that was I guess my own were the violas. There weren’t many of them, and the number often fluctuated. After working with them so much, I often caught myself outside of the classroom counting to myself because that’s what the violas had the most trouble with (1-2, 1-2, 1-2-3). “Ghosts of Brandenburg” was the main beast to be tamed. Mr. B~, my cooperating teacher, handed the reins over to me to work “Adagio Cantabile”, otherwise known as Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor Op. 13, or the “Pathetique Sonata.” I am an incredible nerd and was ridiculously exciting to be able to conduct. How excited was I exactly? Let me reveal to you an embarrassing story. There was a night where our Chicago group went to a One-Act Play festival. Someone who I admire greatly and find incredibly enchanting spoke to me afterwards about my Curie experience so far. I began telling her that I was given a piece to conduct with the advanced orchestra and was really excited about this because I finally got to use my baton. I may have slapped my forehead a dozen times that night after realizing how dorky I must have sounded. But it was the truth.
The day finally came to where I would finally use my baton to conduct the advanced orchestra. And when I began, I realized they had no idea what I was doing. They didn’t know how to watch a conductor or read what the conductor was trying to convey to them. After that day, I planned for a conducting workshop day. Everyday at the beginning of class, both the intermediate and advanced orchestras would do warm-up exercises from this packet they had. A metronome would be played during each exercise they would play. Well, that day I turned the metronome off. I used some of their exercises and a few scales to help get certain points across. By golly, this worked. It actually worked. From that day on, “Adagio Cantabile” began to sprout life. It became more elegant and no longer sounded like just playing notes on a page. It was glorious. That day they also learned ‘the conducting stance.’ That tool right there just may be the reason I was able to work with inner city Chicago teens so well. However, I still question how I did it. How I got them to listen. To play. To begin to make music. Towards the beginning of my student teaching, there was a certain moment that became a turning point in knowing what I really had inside me and how the students would react towards me. Let’s just say, that was most I had ever exerted my voice the whole semester. I suppose I proved to them that I wasn’t just this nerdy white girl from Nebraska. But I also found out that one of the best tools to gaining their trust is just being yourself and talking with them. I always liked to ask questions. I also wanted the students to be able to listen to each other. I carry a lot of warm memories with me from Curie and I honestly cried the day I had to leave them. I wish I could have been there all semester because I felt I had left with unfinished business. And I still feel that way today. My final day was March 5th, or at least, technical day. I’ll explain later. I spent the following day with a few of my students at solo/ensemble competition because I was accompanying a student.
I began my second student teaching placement the following Monday, March 8th at Hampton Fine and Performing Arts School located in Auburn (when I say names like that, that means the neighborhood). I came on a day where testing was still going on. So, I only saw the Monday students for 15 minutes each. It was a bit of a disappointing day. I have mixed feelings about my Hampton experience, and the people I lived with know this. It was rough. It was honestly rough. I took the 15 bus to the 47th red line station, took the train to the 79th station, and rode the 79 bus to 79th and St. Louis. I rode in a dangerous neighborhood 5 days a week for 7 weeks. I honestly feared for my life during the beginning but felt better as time went by. I’ll be honest, I ran into a lot of rude people on the bus. But there were some that stick out that were incredibly pleasant. About 97% of my travel time to Hampton I was the only white person on the CTA (Chicago Transit Authority). Usually in the morning, the 79 bus was packed which made for an uncomfortable 40 minute ride (it took me an hour and 20 minutes to get there everyday). There was a day where I got on the bus and was packed towards the front. My bag accidentally nudged a girl in the hip and I got the stinkeye and a few rotten words right away. I apologized and tried to keep my messenger bag as close to my body as possible so I wouldn’t invade anyone’s personal space. These two older ladies who were sitting saw what happened. When someone next to them got off the bus, they offered me the empty seat. There was another moment where I was sitting towards the front of the bus and once again, it was full. An older lady had gotten on and no one budged to let her sit. And so, I got up and offered her my seat. Half of the bus just stared at me, I think partially in disbelief that the only white person on the bus gave up her seat.
There were days where the racial tension was thick. One day some younger girls were sitting across from me saying, “Cracker this, cracker that,” while giving me the stinkeye. It obviously was an awkward situation, but I just had to ignore it. That was the worst of it. I often wore my identification badge on my rides but made sure the actual ID was covered. All you could see was the lanyard peeking out from my collar. There was one day that a guy asked me what NMEA was (I had been using one of my NMEA lanyards for my badge). I had to explain to him that it was Nebraska Music Educators conference. I had to then explain I was from Nebraska and I was becoming a music teacher. As soon as he heard music, he asked if there were any recording studios in Nebraska. “Yes, there are a few. No, I’ve never been to any of them.” I enjoyed that conversation a lot because I totally opened up this guy’s eyes to a whole different world in a matter of minutes. Another enjoyable conversation was with this mother who sat down next to me. She asked me why I was so dressed up and I explained to her that I was becoming a music teacher. She was so fascinated by this and starting talking about her kids. It was fascinating to hear her point of view about her children’s education. My morning transit rides caused my mornings at Hampton to feel like they would just be flushed down the drain. However, not all my Debby Downer days were caused by my rides to school.
I rarely ever saw my students which was problematic. The students I saw the most were my Thursday students, 1st and 6th grade. Breaks, assemblies, PBIS training, and professional development were the cause. I had a heck of a time remembering names. But what I find fascinating is for how little I saw certain classes, the students became attached to me (my Curie students became attached as well but in a teenage sense). Whenever I had a moment where I was working one on one with a student, it was like an interrogation each time. “Where are you from?” “Where is that?” “Is that your real hair color?” “How do you get your eyebrows to match your hair?” “Why do you wear ties?” “Why are you not wearing a tie today?” “How old are you?” “Are you Ms. M~’s daughter?” “Is that your real eye color?” Yes, I really got asked those questions. Because I saw my first graders the most, they became extremely attached. My cooperating teaching, Ms. M~, gave me the task of beginning a primary choir, consisting of select students from 1st-3rd grade. This was I guess what you’d call, “My baby.” Kind of like “Adagio Cantabile.” I picked out the music and taught the hour how I wanted to teach it. I wanted my students to be knowledgable of the music I grew up with. Out of the three songs I chose to start with, the one I knew was “Kookaburra.” None of my students had ever heard of it. As much as I wanted to teach it, I knew was going to run into a problem. The end of the original song, the final line is, “gay your life must be.” Most of my students didn’t snicker, but a few did. I had one day where a student freaked out because of the line. I had a short talk with her after class. That was another issue that was overcome.
Long have I had the fear of being who I am and eventually getting fired for it. Because Lord knows it happens in Nebraska. I didn’t know my 7th and 8th grade students all too well. There was a bit of an incident towards the end of my student teaching. It was a day where the students were working and of course, every class has it’s class clown. This particular student wouldn’t stop talking so my cooperating teacher invited him up to the front of the class along with the boy he was speaking with. She wanted to try an experiment. She would have both boys tell each other a story at the same time and have them try to listen to each other as they spoke. This was to have them see what it’s like to try to speak when someone else is trying to speak over you. But instead, some unnecessary words were spoken during the process. As one of the boys began his story, the words, “I hate gay people,” flew out of his mouth. Right at that moment, my cooperating teacher stopped them. Class ended and she spoke to him after class, demanding he write an apology letter for what he said. I was furious and at the same time I wanted to cry. I felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my butt. I felt sick. And I was supposed to teach the next class. I almost had asked my coop if she’d teach but I sucked it up and taught the following class. I brought up what had happened in that class of older students and just, well, did it. I came out to my cooperating teacher. And she was cool with it. From that point on, I felt comfortable in my skin, and I was opened up to a whole new world. It was truly liberating. This totally changed how I conversed with my cooperating teacher.
Towards the end of my student teaching, I had some brilliant things happen. But I realize this is already incredibly long right now, so I’m sure I’ll write about them at another time. On my final day of student teaching, May 7th, I took a bus north to Curie after school from Hampton to see Mr. B~ and my students a ‘final’ time. When spring break came around, I went back to Curie for a week while my Hampton students were on a two week spring break. The Saturday of that week at CPS large ensemble competition, I made my cooperating teacher tear up. Never have I made a grown man cry. Never have I thought I had left so much of an impact on a place and a group of people. Back to my final day of student teaching. After I left Curie, I cried on the orange line to downtown (not the whole ride). I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better student teaching experience, and even though my Hampton experience was a ride and a half, Curie has left me with many fond memories.
After all of that teaching stuff, I’m sure you want to know what I did OTHER THAN teach. We got to know the Chicago tourists don’t see. During my four months living in the city, never did I; visit Navy Pier (the closest I got was being in a vehicle that drove up to it), go to the Field museum, go the aquarium, walk on the beach (cold weather!), eat at Dunkin Donuts (I honestly have never been to one). I went to the Lyric Opera to see The Marriage of Figarro (and wore my tux!), saw Billy Elliot, sat by Lake Michigan, ate at The Original Pancake House (LOVE), fell head over heels with Giordano’s, Moon Palace, and Hyde Park Gyro’s, went to the Art Institute (twice), ate at Anne Sather, went to a White Sox game (a forever memorable experience). I visited Andersonville by myself to find the People’s Music School. H~, S~, and I stayed up (or tried) all night after an amazing time in Boystown to watch the sunrise at Lake Michigan (Day of Silence). I traveled all the way to Northwestern University in Evanston by myself to watch a violin teacher teach the most adorable students I have ever seen (itty bitty violins!!!). I saw the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform Stravinsky. Visited the Sears Tower and Millennium Park on a field trip with my Hampton students. I composed music on a table cloth at the Mity Nice Grill on Michigan Avenue. There were many ridiculously amazing, confusing, and aggravating moments. We lived a weekend without heat and hot water during the cold winter. We experienced the separation of the floor, but at the same time, gained new friends (Super Bowl). I was outed to my roommates without my consent. A flirtation had begun between myself and someone else after the first weekend of March that would last the entire time there and never develop into anything no matter how many attempts I tried to arrange a get-together to talk, and failed miserably. I got back to the Boulevard at 3:30AM that night. Goose Island 312 became my favorite beer. Howl At The Moon became one of the top two best nights of my entire life. I also realized how awful of a dancer I must be (proof is found in a video of myself dancing to “Bad Romance” at Howl At The Moon) and how much 14 years of dance must have not have worked. I played piano in the basement at 1:00AM with amazing singers to sing along to The Phantom of the Opera. I also infected the Boulevard one “ra ra ah ah ah, roma, ro ma ma, ga ga oo la, la” at a time along with my dear friend A~. I camped out often on school nights in S~’s room, just talking. I drank a lot of Dr. Pepper and danced awkwardly in the kitchen. I also cleaned a lot and became incredibly sarcastic when needed. I found a miniature secret door in the floorboards in the living room. I walked around downtown Chicago with a gallon of orange juice in my messenger bag one night. I educated my closest roommates about LGBTQI issues and constantly reminded them about the crap I put up with (ex. “as least you can get married wherever you want and not get fired for being who you are”). I had glass shower doors crash down on me after I showered. I washed a lot of dishes. I ate actual pie for the first time. I knocked on H~’s door probably one too many times after school just to say hello. I had a Xena. I helped a student receive superior contest ratings. I said a lot of weird things (and still do). I hauled my iMac in my messenger bag on the bus all the way to the Apple Store. (my computer eventually bit the dust, right after I arrived back in Nebraska, the display went out). I didn’t feel comfortable practicing my conducting in front of my roommates. I often felt like the best dressed which is ironic (I don’t mean to sound cocky). I told my roommate A~ that she looked like a headmistress after a few of my roommates tried dressing her. I went to the Falcon Inn only twice and the Woodlawn Tap only twice. I spent my 22nd birthday at a professional development day, followed by visits to the Woodlawn Tap and Falcon Inn. I actually watched a full season of American Idol for the first time and consistently yelled at the television during critiques. I quoted so many lines to Juno, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and Little Miss Sunshine with my roommates. I sang “Don’t Rain On My Parade” almost every time I did my laundry in the basement. I played piano when I was sure no one was listening. I was asked, "What do you do with your hands in your spare time?" and then showed that person what lesbian protection looks like. I learned it takes two girls to open and close a window. I dedicated songs in candlelit rooms. I bought a Dr. Horrible comic book and some Czech music on vinyl. I got angry every time someone mentioned the chore chart. I threw away the chore chart during everyone’s last week together. I thought the Pulaski Day dinner party was brilliant. I became a White Sox fan (don’t hate!). I Cajun danced with Nancy. TWICE. I also danced with two old men. I was sad the Greek music store burned down a week before I visited it in Greektown. I grew to despise the 15 bus. I was unexpectedly outed to a relative who wasn’t supposed to know. I never did get to go to Jamba Juice. I learned where the fuse box was. Fast. I sat on the floor in the hallway with my roommates talking and teaching S~ about pop culture. I taught people the benefits of being a musician at Panera Bread. I carried my computer and bedding seven blocks to the post office. I sang in a choir. I was enchanted. I was inspired. I was emotional. I was frightened. I was confident. I was many things. All of which have led me to become who I am now. And so, May 8th rolled around and I made a tearful ride to Midway Airport to fly back to Nebraska. I am going to be honest and say that my Chicago experience has been the best time of my life so far.
I returned to Nebraska around 5:30PM and stayed in Lincoln for a bit that night to see Wesleyan’s opera production of Hansel and Gretel. The next day I saw RENT. A day and half back in Nebraska and I feel like a stranger. Barely anyone recognized me. Barely anyone spoke to me. Nebraska no longer felt like home as I was chauffeured around Omaha and Lincoln. I stayed the night in Lincoln Sunday and returned Monday night. I minute after I was back in my house, my cooperating teacher from Curie called. An emergency happened and he was no longer able to be at the orchestra concert that was to happen that Wednesday night and said that I was the first person he thought of to take his place. He knew I was back in Nebraska already but after speaking with the principal, he wanted to be sure of what I was doing. I was offered to conduct the advanced orchestra at their concert. Sadly, I had to decline. I couldn’t afford the flight on such short notice and he couldn’t get Curie to pay for my flight. I graduated days later. Before all of us CCULC students left, we were warned that when we would return to where we came from, we may run into people who block what they don’t want to hear. I ran in that instantly and still do today. Most of the professors I spoke to, all they cared about was the touristy things of Chicago. My time spent there was far from that.
Now that I’m back in Nebraska with a music degree, what am I doing with myself now? To be honest, not a whole heck of a lot. I have visited Chicago twice this summer; one trip for Chicago Pride, to visit the Old Town School of Folk Music (that never happened because no one got back to me about interviewing even though my résumé was reviewed), to see my dear friend S~ and to see A~ that never happened. I got incredibly sunburned, but it was worth it. What wasn’t worth it was someone stepping on a ketchup packet and ketchup squirting all over my favorite khaki shorts. That was an awkward ride back to Hyde Park. I also made my first visit EVER to 7Eleven! I kid you not! I proudly wore my bow tie that weekend. The second visit was for an interview with an elementary school in Gage Park that turned out weird. I also took my Illinois certification tests in Mount Greenwood and got sunburned, again. S~ and I deemed that weekend to be S~ and Christine’s BGW. We had a pleasant time in Lake View as well as just hanging out eating food from Hyde Park Gyro’s and watching Little Miss Sunshine. That was the last time I saw S~ face to face as she’ll be leaving the country in two weeks for a year to teach. Basically, what I’ve been doing all summer is living with my parents in Sky-town, applying for every CPS music position I feel qualified for, sorting through my possessions (which I swear seems to never end), making music (specifically the Chicago album that was inspired by ‘some nice clean sheets’), and trying to get back in touch with old friends. I felt like more people from Nebraska kept in touch with me while I was in Chicago than they do now. I feel like I’m almost having to force people now to talk to me and it’s getting awfully frustrating. I feel like I have half the friends now than I did before I left Chicago. But then again, I gained a handful when I came to Chicago. They just happen to live all over the country and not in Nebraska.
And so, it’s already mid-August. I’ve had a few bites from people in Chicago about jobs, one interview and have been screwed out of having an interview (let’s not get into that right now). I’ve received my Nebraska Educator’s Certificate, have been working on getting my Illinois Educator’s Certificate, and am still without a job. After leaving Chicago, my plan was to go back as soon as possible, get a few part time jobs and live with S~. That obviously didn’t happen. The next plan was to keep applying for CPS music positions and hope to land one and move to Chicago. That hasn’t happened. It doesn’t help that hundreds of teachers were laid off, music programs were being cut and the state is broke. And so, with the rest of CPS beginning school in 2.5 weeks, living in Chicago is looking grim/unlikely. I continually get the, “You should have applied to schools in Nebraska, even if they were small,” speech. But I’m stubborn and I have my sights set. There was a moment last week where I really questioned if I wanted to really move to Chicago anymore. This whole job search had gotten me down and ridiculously frustrated with myself. When you think about it, really think about it, why would anyone want to move to Chicago? Pollution, high taxes, plenty of violence, pricey, politically corrupt, poor education system. All reasons to make a person reconsider moving. I felt this way for about a day and rethought things. I have a picture that I took on the bridge on Michigan Avenue after a few of my roommates and I went out for supper (the night of the Mity Nice Grill). Always has it been my favorite picture I have taken of the city. I remember while I was standing there during that moment, it felt magical and enchanting. Almost like the feeling I got when I performed shows with my band. Even though that spot is a tourist destination, I knew that if I moved there, I could visit that spot almost whenever I wanted and feel that all over again. In a city so large and full of life and culture, I felt at home. I missed walking around Hyde Park. I missed riding the orange line. I missed walking up and down N. Halsted late at night. Even though it looks as if I’ll be spending another year in Nebraska, I aim to return to Chicago. I feel as if I have unfinished business. There are art galleries, theatres, neighborhoods, small shops, restaurants, music venues, dive bars, etc., that have yet to be explored. Besides, Mr. B~ said if he could, he’d love for me to teach by his side at Curie.
August is here and it is already beginning to feel like a Nebraska October (it got down to 57ºF one night). This year will be spent saving money, paying bills/loans, continually learning about music (I need to really work on my cello skills), soul searching, figuring out what else I want from life, and making up for lost time with the people I love in Nebraska and still keeping in touch with the ones that aren’t. I’ve already begun to cut my pop habits down (it got bad while student teaching) and drink more water. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in Chicago. I actually want to eventually move to either Massachusetts (or somewhere on the east coast) or Washington state and when I get old and wrinkled, retire to Vermont (I want to be able to sit on a porch in a rocking chair, sip iced tea and listen to jazz records on summer evenings). Before I assembled with my classmates the day of commencement, a girl I went to school with told me that she always believed I’ll be one of the people from our graduating class who will make a difference in the world. It was incredible to be told something like that from someone whom I hadn’t had a real conversation with since probably my second year of college. A few friends and even my site supervisor have said that Chicago needs me. By golly, I’m trying.
As all of us are on journeys of our own right now, whether it is to a different country, state, whatever, let me leave you with a few words to keep in mind. If I have learned anything from my experience in Chicago, it is this. My Curie coop would tell me, “It is never “goodbye.” Instead, it is “see you later” because you never know what could happen. So, I’ll see you later.”
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