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:

Internal Oregons

Ever wonder if certain parts of your life were real or just a dream? Well, after two years in Boston, I tried curing this "nostalgia" by learning how to text. When that didn't help I tried watching reality TV in an attempt to help me understand what "reality" really means. That didn't help either (thanks a lot for NOTHING, "America Broadcasting Company" and "Women's Entertainment" channels).

So I found myself back in Oregon. When exiting the plane, I stopped to inhale extremely deeply, coughed because most of the air was jet fuel, and got asked to please move by the line of people behind me. All the restrooms in the airport were closed except for one, which didn’t have ANY paper towels. Towels weren’t even an option. On the way out of the airport I spotted a man with dirty dread locks wrapped in a bun on top of his head, dragging a rainbow suitcase. And thus I welcomed myself back.

Kim, Lia and I were like The Three Musketeers picking up where we left off after only five minutes of separation, rather than what it really was - the better part of two years.

In Eugene, we stood in front of our former dorm, remembering the times we had while growing up: our first encounters with the “drunk” type of people, the guy who tested his pellet gun on us from the third story window (the first time I helped get someone evicted), the pumpkin left in the stairwell for months until it was finally removed by people wearing masks…and it all pulls at the sinews of my heart like a multi-ton colonial cobble stone.

The yard sale we later encountered had things like used bottles of hair dye and dolls without eyes to name a few - your basic essentials. I’ve missed being exhilarated by things like this. It made me actually consider buying some hair dye and trying it on one of the dolls. The truth is that those Saturday nights spent at Walmart were better than any night at a big city night club.

The yard sale.

Seeing more old friends over Mexican food made me feel so happy I just about felt nauseous (that plus the margaritas).

The way the University of Oregon campus now looks, the things about it that were in the back of my mind but I haven’t thought about, and fully realizing how much I had been through since I was last there, was quite intense.

Then, put a stop on all the emotion, it was time for a road trip. We stop in the small town of Astoria, Oregon (the temporary settlement of explorers Lewis and Clark).

(Lewis and Clark's original cabin)

There were also shops with things like humongous and dirty stuffed panda bears turned on their side in the display window,

or the B&B with possibly the most floral room that ever existed.

But it was the NATURE that was the most striking.

After visiting the beach, we sprinted up 160 steps to catch the last few minutes of this sunset. It was worth the ruptured lungs.

Among the top 5 sunsets I've ever seen:

A little weary from the sprint, with a red glow from the sunset:

After that, we found ourselves more north in the rural forests of Washington to see where Lia just earned her first job running a high school music program. To see her accomplish this after years of hard work and in these economic times is inspiring. I am very proud of her, as I am of Kim, who is on her way to doing the same thing!

Then it was further north, back to civilization in Seattle.

The GPS telling us to drive through the water:

Two years ago when I left Oregon, I didn’t allow myself to feel the emotion as much as it was there, for the purpose of keeping my eyes on the very unknown road ahead. But after the time away, I was hoping this visit would calm down my nostalgia. TOO BAD.
Really, this trip has only made my emotional state worse, but only for more love for the place and for the people in it. Along with the sadness that comes with change is happiness in knowing that this is where I spent some of the best times of my life.

After that I connected with the old Judaism at a Bar Mitzvah in the Bay Area to see more people I hardly ever get to. It isn't how often you see people that matters, but the love you share that outlasts any amount of time or distance.

Here is some brief video footage of my recent performance in at the Los Angeles Colburn School of Performing Arts as part of the masterclass for teacher Jim Walker (http://www.beyondthemasterclass.com/).