Yeah, they look good. But I'm not talking about actual buns.
That's right sillies...I'm talking about the SONG!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVZM-8rs2Qw
Sadly, in my generation of elementary school beginner musicians, nobody (and I mean NOBODY) liked Hot Cross Buns. It was called “boring” “stupid” and even more mature terms like “lame” and "sucky.”
Among its haters, however, I liked it. My tolerance for the simple and sometimes obnoxious little melody was perhaps the first sign that I was kinda different. (Here’s me in a third grade recital.)
Later, in high school, I was trying to get a summer job. They asked us in interviews, “What do you do with your free time?” and people responded by saying, “I play volleyball, “ or “I make photo albums of me and my friends,” and I responded by saying “I play the flute” (and almost corrected the bad grammar).
After a few moments of silence, the interviewer quickly moved onto the next question. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job.
One time at music camp, despite having gone to religious school, for one of the first real times in my life, I prayed. In that adolescent mixture of egos and competition, I prayed that I would be able to get somewhere, someday, with this perhaps unusual yet strong passion; that this mysterious calling would amount to something worthwhile.
Then last week, two hours before I was to give a deposit to Boston University’s College of Fine Arts for graduate school (who had given me no more time to extend the decision), I got a new email.
Dear Elizabeth, At this time a re-evaluation of your application for admission is complete. On behalf of the Woodwinds faculty and Admissions Committee of New England Conservatory, I am pleased to offer you admission to the Fall 2009 Master of Music program in Flute Performance. We hope that you will accept this offer and will choose to enroll with us this fall. I nearly destroyed my computer by almost spilling the coffee, and then proceeded to jump up and down while screaming a series of curse words. Luckily, these were curse words were joy.
On my way to NEC to give them a deposit, I thought how I have spent this year in limbo.
Even though it hasn't been easy, I have been hungry for life like a tiger hungry for the flesh of a little bunny. (maybe without quite the degree of violence). Identity crises and struggles the appetizers to a main course I didn’t know the contents of (like tuna “surprise” at flute camp, but in this case, not tuna). With the worse recession in more than half a century and a quarter-life crisis, I was determined to not let this time be a waste.
Life has given me some good lemons, and some lemons more sour than others, but one thing is for certain. In this chapter, I have FINALLY made some lemonade!
In this conclusion to a wild nine month adventure of being in this place, the good moments have never in my life felt so truly good, not just sort of good, or superficially good. The bad moments, well, weren’t really all THAT bad.
However, I know that these things will eventually blend together like a swirly cloud of pastel colors. In the future, what will really stick out about this experience is the way I have utilized the valuable tools given to me by my extremely wonderful teachers and mentors, and the connection I’ve made with my family.
So, hot cross buns, all I have to say is, good job.
Here is New England Conservatory's Jordan Hall, one of the best performance spaces in the world,
and its newest member for the next two years.
