What We Talk About When We Talk About...

1. Hair

Answer this for me, my little chicklets. Why is it that the Red Sox get all this attention for shaving their beards, but when I go in for a hair cut, I GET NOTHING?! Actually, I get less than nothing. I lose three hours of my life breathing in toxic chemicals as my scalp screams, my bank account drains, and my inner child sobs while taking in celebrity gossip in People Magazine circa 1993. Why wasn't I born as a male pro athlete?

(Fyi, I will be donating this mess in the spring, because I AM A GOOD PERSON, right?).

2. Halloween

For those of you who accept me for who I am (if you're reading this, you're on that track), you know that nothing gives me so much of an endorphin rush/rise/natural high as pulling off a great Halloween costume.

I mean nothing. Not even breathing.

That's why this entry might seem like the tip of the iceberg of an extreme narcissist.
Don't worry, though. I promise, I am not [that much of] a narcissist. I just think these topics are worth discussing.

The criteria for these costumes are the following:

• very politically incorrect
• borderline offensive
• use of eye liner
• sometimes the use of fake tanner.

Let's recall the moments in time when I shined the most.

• 2004: Baby Spice (of the Spice Girls)

• 2008: Ozzy Osbourne

• 2010: Octomom

• 2011: Occupy Wall Street

• 2012: Tanorexic Mom

• 2013: Paula Dean

What happened in between 2005 and 2008? you might be wondering.
I don't remember, is the answer, which can only mean one thing. Or several.


3. Vegetables



I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT! I...am...now..a...

vegetarian.

Am I crazy? you might ask.
You know it, and that's why you like me.

The reasons for this decision include the following:

• I love animals.
• I may have been brainwashed by pro-vegetarianism documentaries on netflix.
• I want to singlehandedly save the planet from selfish, global-warming-inducing jerk politicians. That along with donating my hair makes me A GOOD PERSON, right?

Additionally, I want to do it for me, and for all those other chicklets out there who just...wish they could be me.

Sigh.

HOWEVER, I want to be clear. I know I'm not, but I want to be.

I am not trying to brainwash you, chicklets. EAT WHAT YOU WANT.

Now you can roll your eyes and judge me for being weird and making it difficult to go out to dinner with me, even though it isn't difficult for YOU.

4. Falling

•  Falling back for daylight savings time: I HATE IT. 
•  Fall in New England: I LOVE IT.

I'm a Musician (damnit)!

Yes, that's right. Since the womb, rocking out to 1980's ballads through the headphones, since toddler-ism, banging with both fists on a fake piano, since early childhood when I was the only person under 40 at rock concerts with my dad. And most importantly, since the day I watched Annie Lennox through the TV screen, singing in a music video from YEARS before my birth, and she randomly whipped out a flute and played three notes. That was it for me! The rest is history.

No, but seriously. No.

In a flash I am now in my mid, to late, to mid twenties, and thinking, WTF?

I drive more than many soccer moms do, between my teaching commitments in six different locations, performances in countless additional locations, weddings in locations not ever even seen on satellites, my day job, suburban living location...........splat.

How do I do it? people ask.

With multi vitamins, coffee, and no real weekends, I answer.

How is that a legit career? people ask, either with words, or with looks.

How is it not? I reply, my inner child crumbling under the weight of constant misunderstanding, judgement, and failed efforts for justification.

Why did I choose this rough, inconsistent lifestyle when I could've been President?

Sometimes I know the answer, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I have amnesia at what got me here. Then other times, thankfully, I remember. It is because I believe.

I believe art is legitimate. I believe that it saves people. I believe that it saved me. I believe it is worthy of a life in it.

I also believe that being a musician is more fun than being President, and it is an equal level of service as being a politician. Especially these last few weeks.

I could've been a doctor, but I get nauseous at the sight of paper cuts. Or a lawyer, but I'm too good of a person.

But enough hypoteheticalizing.

Enough whining!

This is just the cycle, my little chicklets.

I work hard, I sweat, I struggle, I work harder, I fall, I get up, and I keep going. Then, I reach a successful point and all is well. And then the process repeats again.

The most recent point of success is worth talking about.

On Columbus Day weekend, and I was backstage of Distler Performance Hall at Tufts University, not coordinating or managing logistics of a concert (which is my actual job there), but getting ready to perform in it. I perform often, but this time, I was the producer AND performer.

"How many people are here?" I asked the stage manager before the show began.

"A lot," he said. "Like 40."

"For real?"

"Yep."

I proceeded to jump up and down.

"People SHOWED UP! ON A HOLIDAY WEEKEND! REAL FLESH IN BLOOD PEOPLE! WOW!"

The audience would grow to almost 100, plus at least half that many viewers on the online live stream.

Then, there was a moment on stage, with the dancers and actors and other musicians, when it seemed right. I felt happiness percolating from the 20 fellow artists at having an opportunity to perform, to do what they love for an appreciative audience.

So, this is what it's all about.

(A good review doesn't hurt either.)

Stay tuned for when this concert, Proclaiming Pan, will appear on youtube in the coming weeks.

So, until "reality" sets in again, I'd like to declare that I am a musician. Until tomorrow, when I'll want to be President or the next world class basket weaver.

Little Poster, Big World

 Oh thee little poster in a coffee shop, how longst will thou survive in this poster-eat-poster kind of world?

--> I am planning a concert in October called Proclaiming Pan. See more information here and here. If you live in Boston, PLEASE  COME.

 PLEASE. 

If you come, I'll give you tickets at  

50% off

No..

75% off

No.

FREE. 

(Admission is actually free to begin with)

No. 

I will PAY you to come. 

No. 

Actually, yes. I literally will.   

It is on the Tufts University Music calendar. Make sure it is on yours!

 

By the way, I'm happy to be back on the blog-o-sphere. I will keep it updated regularly from now on! :-)

Cross Country Road Trip Chonicles

To read about my enticing cross country road trip, go here.

Adventures and Water Falls

The “Midwest” is a concept I’ve never quite understood. To me, it has always been a bunch of corn squares I fly over that somehow generates 90% of the food I consume. For Michael (the...you know...GUY...who..you know...I've been DATING for over a year now), it is home.

The “road trip” – what is this quirky little concept? When you leave the county you reside in to do something OTHER than going on a school field trip involving vomit, heat exhaustion, altitude sickness, or other “education,” or a time-sensitive task, most of which involves traffic, I think that what WE are doing is the ultimate way to explore world up close and to connect with the land (and also polluting it with exorbitantly-priced gasoline). Many of peoples’ most wild, simulating, and memorable stories come from road trips. We are hoping for similarly memorable stories, but if nothing else some entertainment. Everyone is invited to live vicariously.

So, happy graduation to us. With our common love of hitchhiking (we met that way in fact), Michael and I have been inspired to actually go across this land together.

(Just kidding.)

Throughout these next few entries, I will be bolding little sections called Note to future travelers. Here’s the first one.

Note to future travelers: Get friends that get married in the middle of the country so you can have an excuse to drive across it.

This is Lia, my good friend from college. She's getting married June 25th in Helena, MT and I am a bridesmaid.

So here’s the itinerary: Boston to Niagra Falls to Cleveland to Chicago to Mount Rushmore to Yellowstone to Helena, Montana (Lia’s wedding) and then finally to Seattle. Then, we fly to Kansas City (Michael’s home) for a week. Then we fly back to Boston. Make sense?

Okay, so here’s day #1:

On the way to the rental car place, the train got delayed because someone had a heart attack, two women got into a fist fight, and it was also pouring rain. Once we got there, my credit card was declined, then accepted, Michael’s AAA # was not enough to waive the fee for the extra driver, but after almost an hour of logistical hell, everything actually worked out.

Later that evening, Michael and I went in search of dinner in Niagra Falls, NY. We didn’t plan on driving over into Canada at that time (and thus left our passports at the hotel) but somehow ended up taking a wrong turn into the line for customs at the Rainbow Bridge, right on the border. Turning around was not an option, according to the person in the booth, because then we would be arrested. Half an hour later, after being searched and questioned by four different armed officers, going into the customs facility, and telling almost our entire life stories, we were turned around, hungry and a wee bit cranky.

Note to future travelers: Don’t do that. Also, don’t go to the casino for the food. Go for the second hand smoke.

The next day we crossed the border successfully and spent the afternoon amongst this amazing natural wonder. Grand, powerful water falls, gorgeous scenery. This was actually the first site of power generated from water. Such a great place for the first stop on this journey.

We also did the Maid of the Mist boat tour. Highly recommend. Totally worth the frizzy hair.

At the Riverview restaurant, $16/person got us spoiled ranch dressing, rubbery pizza, grainy macaroni and cheese, spicy fruit and bread that might have taken a bit of enamel off our teeth.

Note to future travelers: If you find yourself in a bad restaurant because it is in a tourist trap and you are just hungry enough to eat anything, ask for your money back. They just might give it to you.

So now stay tuned for our next stop, the home of rock n’ roll, Cleveland, OH.

For some unjust reason, I cannot upload videos to this blog anymore. That means you cannot listen to us singing 99,999,999,999 bottles of beer on the wall. I'm really sorry. :( But I'm working on fixing the problem. 

To read about the rest of this cross country road trip, go here. 

The Plight and Flight of the Zebra

The best thing to do during Superbowl XLV is to update your blog. Since I'm not into the football, I deserve credit for paying attention enough to change the channel during the commercials.

Newscaster says: “you may not like this, but there is MORE snow on the way!”
I throw down the bag of chips, swallow, and spew out my emotional reaction to her insightful reporting (along with a couple crumbs):
"That's BULLS&*^!"

A video of my journey home the other day during the 5th blizzard in 6 weeks:

Aside from not being able to really walk anywhere, there is lots of fun involved in a winter like this. My neighbors dump their snow on my car and scream at me when I park anywhere near their house (on a public street). Roofs are collapsing. I’ve gone through 4 pairs of boots in the last 3 weeks. When I'm president, I'll invent the boots with traction, water proofness, warmth, AND fashion, all for an affordable price in order to attract the student population...perhaps some who spend 2 hours digging out their car in 3 feet of snow turned slush turned solid ice in order to drive 60 miles to teach private flute lessons once a week in the deep suburbs of Boston, just to begin fueling the fire for what will be the beginnings of a career.

The bright side is that I finally found a pair of boots with at least 2 of those qualities.


Then I realize that screaming at the TV is a sign of something not too good (Elvis, is that you channeling me? I don't do the gun thing...).

So when the commercials are over I think about other things. Like how the lack of sleep, occasional outbursts at the TV (when I have time to watch TV), and other sometimes concerning side effects of just putting my soul into forging my life's purpose out of this program have actually rendered some good results.

http://classical-scene.com/2010/10/27/rising-star/ (I am mentioned at the bottom)

http://www.boston.com/ae/music/articles/2010/11/19/gunther_schullers_85th_sounds_rare_notes_at_jordan_hall/

Then, there was the completion of my master's recital, in two locations. Thanks Dad, by the way, for fixing my dress when it fell apart right before.
The first at Colburn School of Performing Arts in Los Angeles, Mayman Hall:


And the second in Williams Hall at the New England Conservatory in Boston:



The real accomplishment is shown in the people who were there to support me. Not just the people in the pictures to follow, but you too. Yes, YOU who are reading this wacky little particle of cyber space real estate.

College buds Kim (left) and Lia (right) who flew 3,000 miles just for the weekend of the recital, and to do my hair and makeup. Everyone should acquire friends like this.A moment of joy with Aunt Becky right after the recital ended:
(Thanks to Kim & Lia for capturing)


At the after party, thrown by Aunt Becky & Uncle Nick...one of the best nights ever.
L to R: Cousin Leigh, Uncle Nick, Liz, Michael, Aunt Becky
The traditional jumping picture:

Yes, I had to wear them at the party. L to R: Chung my pianist, Liz, and Stephanie my bassoonist (before the cream puff exploded on her shirt).

After the after-party. L to R: UO Ducks reunited...Kim, Becca, Lia, and then Liz (where you can see the "after" part of the after-party in full swing).

And with all that's happened in this chapter, new chapters begin. Tomorrow I turn a quarter of a century old. Thanks dad for 2 chicken pies, a honey baked ham, flowers, chocolate, and fruit, each in a separate delivery.

I am also more than 3/4 done with grad school. With both of these milestones, here are a couple lessons I've learned:

On getting around:
1. No matter how many times in a row you press the elevator, button, it won’t come faster.
2. By train, plane, automobile, or foot (zebra feet), just enjoy the journey.

On success:
1. “Success is peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to become the best of which you are capable.” –John Wooden

P.S. I just learned not to change the channel for the commercials, because apparently they are the best part. That's what boyfriends are for...to educate. Everyone should acquire significant others like this. If not in person than online.


To conclude, some further documentation of one of the worst winters New England has ever seen. Ever.


A walk in the park?
Poor California Carolla-lita:

Icy road:

Me: