Time to Think and a Time to Rest

In which our hero is looking for the latter; he's had plenty of the former.....

For a sample of the latter, see my previous post....

This has been a busy semester and not even coursework wise. I don't know that I'll have a semester to rival last, as far as busy work is concerned. But this semester is full of thinking. Thinking about so many things that my brain is almost constantly on overload, trimming thoughts off the edges so that I forget things, little things, but things. I lost my travel mug, or I forgot to check my email, or I forgot to eat my apple with lunch, or I forget to pick up my pin for Freshman honors. Little trains of thought that took a detour and never made it back to the station.

This semester has introduced me to many new trains of thought, all of them freight trains. This semester I was informed that I had the possibility of considerably more scholarship money, as well as being invited to take part in a Colloquium class to help prepare for grad school. I had not thought I had particularly odd or varied interests until they were enumerated being assessed by someone else; (apparently the Office of Major scholarships at IPFW has never seen 'Koine Greek' on an application.)
I've also been going through the machinations of getting a job as a tutor. The process is taking a terribly long time; because the head of the program never seems to be free to finish up the training. I've been considering how effective of a tutor I actually might be. I'm hoping that tutoring, as well as providing me some much needed income and job experience, will help me get a feel of whether or not I would want to teach at some point in my life. I'm only tutoring in Music Theory, which is a subject near and dear to me. Although all the feedback I've received from colleagues, or the professor who wrote the letter of recommendation for me to tutor, is that I will make an excellent tutor, or indeed, in the future, professor.

But I digress, I was speaking of my thought freight trains; observe how easily the detour....

Why am I thinking of thinking? Well, right now it's all I can do, I am currently confined to a chair in my living room, having pulled my trapezius (and yes, spellczech, that most certainly is a word) muscle. I am hoping to try and wake up my brain before I settle in for some homework.

But I digress, that still is not a return to original subject matter....

This semester I also ended up with the unusual responsibility of arranging a gig for the vocal jazz group I'm in. I have a contact with the local food truck association and I volunteered that I could contact them about us maybe performing at a rally. Then it turned into me organizing the event and making all of the necessary phone calls/meetings for advertizing etc. I don't mind, I was glad to contribute, but it was a weight on my mind up until this week when plans were finalized.

And, as always, my thoughts have been much consumed by my thoughts of the future. Perhaps there is a time and a place to stop thinking so hard about it, but I am at a point where my actions will almost directly and dramatically influence my future. I am looking into Summer opera programs, but I am also looking towards starting to learn the organ, to the point of perhaps graduating with it as a secondary instrument. How I invest my summers will directly effect my career options from here to the point that I graduate from a masters. Which, for what it's worth, I know I want to pursue, even if I'm not positive what form it will take. And, of course, school is not the only thing that can shape my vision of the future, or alter it dramatically. I know that marriage and a family has been a central aspect of all of my plans, even if it has not been clear when or with whom. Which is perhaps another thing that has been occupying my mind of late, (let the reader understand.)

There is also the ever present idea of transferring. It's always a thought, whether or not it will need to happen or not.

There are other things that have occupied my mind, but I am now realizing that this post is waxing long; I suppose that is what will happen if I start writing during the day, as opposed to at night. But then, I always wax long, even if I'm writing in the AMs. There are other things I could continue to write about...

Anywho, I am merely recognizing that it has come high time to bring this post to an end... What was I even talking about? I had to think about it before I remembered.

I hope that there was something worthwhile in this post, otherwise it was just grumbling. Which mind, was not the intent of this post. I don't mean to whine.

But that's a post in itself.

Thanks for reading.

Escape

In which our hero gets away from it all....


On certain satellite radio services, there is a particular station which plays schmaltzy, jazz-lounge-ish music. The station alternated announcers and each one had a different manner in which they delivered the primary tagline. All of them over delivered it and consequentially sounded absurd doing so.

Apart from the fact that the music was insipid and the announcers unbelievable, what they were proposing was ridiculous. You are listening to satellite radio, which almost necessarily means driving, which, in my mind, is the absolute most polar opposite thing from 'getting away from it all.' Driving is death, and panic, and fire, and burglars, and demons, and madmen, and thieves, and charlatans, and scoundrels, and villains......

{This section of the manuscript has been removed by the NSA to preserve the life-force and sanity of the general populace}

.... it's just wretched.


So then, the purpose of this spiel.

This weekend, I got away from it all. I have been having a terrible time getting acclimated to being at school; acclimating to not spending time with my bros; not being in control of my own schedule; not getting to spend all day with my niece when she was here. I feel like I don't have time, even though I am on top of my studies, and am really faring better than fair. I love the work. I love my music. So, why the stress and lack of restiveness?

Je ne sais pas.

Whatever it is; I got away. I had homework that needed to be done, sure. But homework can wait for the lonesome hours. I didn't have a plan, sure. It was all impromptu, the only plan being that friends were in town, and I was going to spend every second I could in their incomparable society. I put the hazards and care of my life away and immersed myself in the mutual consolation of the brethren.

And there were stories for the telling, and roads to be run. There was trudging through trees, and foolishness in fields. We gandered at greenery and milled in modalities. We spoke, or were silent. Cried out, or said nothing at all. We posed for portraiture and laughed til it hurt. We talked of everything, and nothing, of cabbages, and even of kings; discourse in dialectics of didactics of demeanor and distraction. Words were exchanged, at cost or gain (and non cared the more which for.)

A day marked by the sheer unbridled happiness of a soul and mind at rest. Sure there was thinking, there might have even been some level of worry at times.

But what are such things, when one is among his friends?

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 5

In which our hero finishes the week on Friday....


So, it's come to this....

No, it really has. End of the week and this is the end of this many-volume blog post anthology. I hope that the reading has merited the time it has likely taken. I can't say it was a terrifyingly interesting week. I was pleased with it on the whole.

But back to our narrative....


Today began like many of these days have: Alarm, make coffee, shower, stumble, sip coffee, stumble, sip coffee, scratch head trying to remember what I forgot, sip coffee, make bagged lunch, sip coffee, and rinse and repeat actions, starting from 'stumble.' I am rather pitiful when I wake up early. Zombie-ish you might even say.

-Interjection: I have been remiss this week in not expressing gratitude to the most wonderful neighbor person in the world, Mrs. P. Who was generous enough to let me ride to and, when necessary, from campus with her. She would put up with me, whether it was being anti-social and dozing off, or being over social for lack of Lutheran social stimuli. Ain't nobody got neighbors as awesome as mine.

I got to school about eight. I had an hour until my first class, so I killed the time practicing blues patterns, which are fun once you figure them out but are terribly tedious to practice.  Thirty minutes of practicing later, I walked down the hall and chilled outside my Theory classroom talking DnD with a classmate, sharing silly memories from various encounters or campaigns. I might have to look into doing a DnD group on Fridays.... But then, I really need to use that time for homework or music... c'est la vie de la Musique Major.

Be warned, I might start dropping French phrases in my posts, to try and exercise my knowledge.

Theory class went off without a hitch. Every answer I had was correct, and I didn't waste any time getting those answers. It will be a great way to begin my non-busy days. Maybe I'll even get some writing done if I don't have a lot of homework late in the semester.

After Theory class, I mingled for about fifteen minutes and then sat down to practice more piano, and a little bit of opera. I learned that there was free food today, which, you must understand, is hard to beat. Especially hard to beat is the prospect of extra protein in my daily diet. So I walked across campus to the free food, and then back to Rhinehart, free food in tow. On the way I spotted a group of Freshies doing homework and cloistering themselves in the midst of their classmates. As it was a passing fair day, I decided that instead of going in and sitting in the student lounge, I would sit outside and talk with them. The conversation revolved around choir starting today, and their own varying degrees of choral experience. They asked about U.Singers, what kind of rep. we did last year, etc.

I sat talking with them for some time, and then it was time for piano. I had rather a lot of fun in piano today. Our assignments for today were to play the blues, minor scales, and playing "Twinkle, Twinkle" by ear. Then the fun part, modulating "Twinkle" into minor. It sounds really funny, and somehow really epic. One of my fellow basses and I went from the class singing "Twinkle" a la minor, an octave down in our best Bassi Profundi impressions. It's healthy to sing when walking down the hall, it helps remind people who don't get to hear me sing much that I am a bass. We wouldn't want them thinking me a tenor. That would not do.

I went about doing nothing really at all, trying to find a practice room. When I finally had one, it wasn't long before U.Singers. I practiced a bit and went to choir.

Choir today was special. It was the first rehearsal of the new year with a new director. Exciting stuff. When we had dispensed with introductions, Dr. Busarow declared that we would sing first, read syllabus second. We pulled out the music and opened it to the "Cantique de Jean-Racine."
 Dr. Busarow asked, "So, who here has sung this piece before?" I raised my hand, expecting at least a few others. But no one else raised their hand. People who knew me already laughed. They knew I was a bit of a geek, and it figured that I would have sung the piece no one else had ever sung. It is a beautiful piece, and good fun to sing and allowing a proper bass line.

On a side note, the men are divided into TI, TII, BI/Bar., B2. Of the bass 2s, I am the only non-freshman music major; making me the senior member of the section, which actually holds true in age too, funny enough.

As choir ended, I milled about in the hallway, chatting with friends until my extraction team arrived.

And then I was home. I had pool-o'clock, drank tea, and had delicious Kraft mac with my wonderful little brother, who entertained me as I wrote with his commentary while playing "Forza 4."

In summary, it has been a long week. There is much work to be done, not terribly much time to do it, and a long semester of early wake-ups and bag lunches ahead of me. But for all that, there is knowledge, friendship, experience, and maybe, if I'm lucky, wisdom to be had. My semester could turn out to be crazy. As it stands it doesn't look bad, but it can change, or I may be underestimating the workload. Any way that it turns out, I will carry through this academic year, improve my skills as a musician, and maybe, just maybe, learn some French.

The former pair are certainly worth looking forward to, the third, well, jury's still out on French.

Thank you for reading. It has been a pleasure to share this first week with you. I would like to thank my sponsors, my mama and my papa, who have underwritten my college venture and have provided more than the money's worth in love and support. I would like to thank my backer (the person standing behind me poking me, telling me I should do things when I propose that I should do them, you know who you are.) And I would like to thank the number 5 and the word "Vici." As in: Doppleganger, although I did not intend to compete with you in length of blog posts, I will point out that, while you wrote one long post, I have exceeded it in my five volumes.

Either way, I hope this has been enjoyable -or at least not boring- reading.

Thank you for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 4

-In which our hero talks about Thursday....


The week is drawing to a close. This is the second to last volume of this series, my school week ending as it does on Friday.

My day began early, again. A light-less rising, when I bounded out of bed as my alarm screamed bloody murder at me. Early wake-ups are much harder when the sun isn't shining. Or maybe the sun was shining, but my eyes were sealed by sleepishness.

But I digress.

I scrambled about my morning preparation, trying to pull together the minutia of my day. I had a lot to bring with me, Repertoire books, paperwork for tutoring and such. I had to make coffee, prepare my lunch box (bag actually), and make sure that all of my books were in order. I also went about the important business getting properly caffeinated. I managed to drink a large cup of coffee to supplement my small travel mug.

When I arrived at school, I had only a little business to attend to. I practiced a wee bit of piano, mostly Blues patterns. I was waiting for the eight o'clock classes to end; for Dr. North's first Sight singing class to end. When it ended, I approached him and asked if he would mind filling out a recommendation form for a job tutoring the theory courses he teaches, which he taught when I attended them. He agreed, and told me he'd return them to me in an envelope.

At nine Dr. Bookout's Music Lit. class began, and I became more determined that I was going to love her class. We talked about Gregorian chant, the notation, the prayer offices and ordinaries, and the acoustics and spaces it was written for. Which translates to, listening to and reading chants and looking at pictures of Chartres. I was so happy when I realized I could name all the ordinaries and propers of the medieval Mass without prompting. Dr. Bookout is an excellent professor, and I look forward to hearing everything she has to say about her subject matter.

I then had French class, but that has not really changed much. It's still madness. There may be method, but that doesn't change the madness.

My next class was at one-thirty, and until that time I had to eat lunch and occupy the time. I learned that one of my classmates was performing out in the amphitheater outside of the Music Building, and I decided to check it out. There was also, as I had heard from fellow starving artists, food to be had for free. I couldn't say no to that.

When I got out to the amphitheater it was about fifteen minutes until my classmate was billed to perform. I had not realized it, but there were still canvas lawn chairs available, also for free. I grabbed a free lawn chair and my free grub and chatted with another music student until the music I was interested in hearing started. When she did perform, my classmate did a couple of original songs and a couple of covers. She has a much better voice than the original artists and the effect was quite pleasant.

I went inside and got my act together for Sight-singing with Dr. K. Once more, this class doesn't change much from day to day. However, this class is no madness at all. It's always strictly structured and rigorously taught. Which is important when you are teaching a bunch of young musicians how to fly by the seat of their pants.

Ah yes, Convocation; It was the first convocation of the semester and they had arranged a nice line-up of performances. But first the business, including recognizing Dean's list and Semester's Honors students.

-Interjection: My ego is slightly swollen, as I fall into both of those lists.

....After the recognition of the lists, the major music related student organizations gave presentations; the department chair made a short address, and, when the business was done, came the performances. On the docket was Jason and the head of the piano division, playing a Mozart piano duet; Drew, star tenor of our music program, singing an aria from Faust; and the Trombone ensemble, performing an impressive all brass setting of "Nearer My God to Thee." The music was excellent, a good way to show the Freshies what it's all about.

Opera was shortly after Convo. Opera was long today. We read dialogues, but my character has none, so I had nothing to do. I was more than eager to leave the building aboard the Peril chariot at the end of the day and to return to my home of hominess.

Tomorrow is the last day of the first week...

But that is for then.

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 3

In which our hero whittles away writing about a Wednesday....


Continuing our sequential plot line of summary posts, today was Wednesday.

Indeed, it was the first day of serious classwork for Theory, although that consisted of review of last semester....

-Interjection: I was afraid that I would not be able to do theory and analysis as quickly, having neglected those skills over the summer... I needn't have worried, I was completing problems about as fast as I could identify the pitches... which was fast.

....I had a good time during that class. Dr. Johnson is going to be great to have as a professor. I've missed theory. I might have to pursue composition merely to explore the possibilities presented by the vast world of theory. I love it.

After Theory had ended, I walked with some classmates across campus to where a local breakfast place was catering an ISPGA event. It was decent food, and more protein to add to my daily diet. Shortly after food was my third day of French. I have struggled to get onto my feet with French. I pick up words quickly, and I understand what people are saying very fast, but I got confused by the two fifteen page documents, the Programme Detailles and the Syllabus. I believe I now know what I must do and it is simply a matter of finding the time to do it.

Immediately after French I took off for piano. Piano has always been one of my easier prospects, today was no exception. We were assigned to do five-finger pattern warm-ups for next class, but I was able to do the patterns proficiently today, thus saving me the time on Friday. It was a straight forward class, we were assigned the twelve-bar blues and to review minor scales.

When piano had ended, I had nothing to do til Vocal Jazz, an extra-curricular ensemble, not a class.

When I arrived for Jazz, about two minutes late, I quickly realized I was one of only four guys in the room. I was then informed that two of them were tenors, and that as it stood, we were only guaranteed us two for basses. We went through the business for the ensemble; electing new officers, proposing fundraising plans. Then, came the election of section leaders, as one of two basses present, and between us the only voice major, I was made bass section leader. I was not particularly enthused by the idea, but then, I don't have to be. I figured I could do the job as well as just about anybody.

Jazz was the end of my day. Afterwards I walked across campus to meet with Mrs. P to catch a ride home with her.

When I had gotten home, I met my family for foodtrucks. A good way to end the day.

And that, essentially, was my Wednesday.

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliliquoys, vol. 2

In which our hero thinks about Tuesday....


Today, following in the footsteps of yesterday, as it must, I will speak of today; of such things as did pass through my time that I did behoove worthy of further contemplation.

Exemplia Gratia: This morning began late. I over slept and only had twenty-five minutes to remove my carcass from bed, prepare, and traipse through the door. I had planned on a solid hour. There was stuff to get done, things to fetch, papers to locate (more on that later,) food to eat, and coffee to drink. Instead I headed out the door at twenty-five to eight having not eaten breakfast or had any coffee, save the eight-ounce travel mug in my hand, a meager allotment  at best. The papers I had meant to locate were my application papers for the CASA tutoring center, especially the professor-signed recommendation sheet, which I had intended to have signed this morning by the esteemed Dr. North of Theory I and II.

A rough beginning, to be sure. One I hope not to repeat.

When I arrived on campus, I dallied some, swerving back and forth mindlessly until the bookstore opened. I went to the computer lab to print off some papers for my classes, including my fifteen page French syllabus and Programme Detailles. Then it was half past, and the bookstore was open. I had purchased my hundred and forty dollar French text a couple nights before, and I had received notification that it was available for pick-up. I approached the counter, asked for it, and received my bookstore bag that contained it. I pulled the text from the bag, eager to see what had cost so much....

Pages.... Unbound pages. Albeit, they were laminated and hole punched....

One hundred and forty dollars had bought me a few hundred pages of unbound textbook....

As you can imagine, this did not improve my morning.

After this disappointment, I had Music Lit. I knew Dr. Bookout, loosely, from her work with the Bach Collegium as a consultant and period musician. I knew that she played magnificently and knew more about music history than just about anybody in Ft. Wayne. Her class was packed, filled with new sophomores, people who had missed her class last year, or people who had already failed it and come back. The room was full, there was not a seat to be had.

And it was dead silent.

Dr. Bookout speaks very softly, almost in a manner of reverence for her subject matter. She didn't raise her voice so we could hear her, we had to listen. And we did, we hung on every word she spoke. We didn't waste much time on the syllabus. We looked over it, put it aside and got down to history. We talked about style, musical elements, and the reasons for musical development; the basic building blocks of music history.

After Music Lit. I had a little while until French. I sat down to work on an assignment with a classmate until such a time as we had to leave. French class was unremarkable. We learned some more basic bits of kit and generally had an easy time of it. I volunteered and was an amiable buffoon, opening doors and then being told she had said 'frappez a la porte' and then, obligingly, if embarrassed, rapping on the door with my knuckles.

After French I had a break until Sight-singing. I didn't do much. I don't have repertoire selected yet, and the only thing I had to practice was opera (granted I should have practiced that but I didn't.) I ate my lunch and sat around talking to a classmate and one of the Freshman (my teacher's son.) Sight-singing was fabulous, if terrifying, but that comes with the territory. Dr. K was as polite and brutally honest as ever,which I love....

-Brief interjection. I took voice with Dr. K for about three years, in which time she pretty much single handedly  saved my voice from destruction through this brutal honesty-

.... I was shaking in my boots about sight-singing. But I knew that, if I did my part, Dr. K would do everything in her power to make sure I did well.

(Looks at clock and realizes how close it is to being Wednesday, better wrap up.)

After Sight-singing was Performance class. It was exactly what was expected, telling all the freshies what's up. After Perf. was Opera. It was also very much a syllabus/organization class period.

After opera, I texted Patchy for evac. His class didn't finish for a while, but I appreciated the chance to sit still.

That's it. I'm done. And no, I am not going to enter a post length spitting contest with the Doppleganger.
Tune in tomorrow for another exciting adventure... or not.....

Thanks for reading.

Sundry Sophomore Soliloquoys, vol. 1

In which our hero reflects on a Monday....


On this day, in the year of our Lord 2013, the month being August, the twenty-sixth of the month, I began the new semester of school, my sophomore year.

I have been looking forward to school. I missed the structure, the tangible progress of my semesters in the music building. I missed having work to do, having problems to solve, rhythm and rhyme to reason and resolve. School represented a growth in knowledge and ability which is difficult to match outside of the disciplined context of academic study. I am hoping that the developing discipline of the school year will continue to grow into my down time. I did more work this semester than I have ever really done in an unenforced context previously

But I digress, all this speaks to the pre-semester thoughts, this blog post is themed for this semester starting today. Entschuldigung.


My day began early, very early. I woke at 6:40, stumbled my way to the shower, and groped my way about my morning prep. I will be waking earlier when Lauds shifts to its school year time of seven-am. I look forward to the time when I will be able to continue such disciplines, which I find to be the best way to start the day....

Once, more, I have diverged from the subject at hand. Krosis.

So, having prepped my box-lunch, I searched for a travel mug which I could carry my coffee in; however, woe of woes, there was not a sizable mug to be found. I left the house, bereft and caffeine deprived.

I did some first day prep, procuring my locker, printing my schedule, figuring out which books I needed that day. I went to the bookstore, learned they didn't have my last textbook reserved yet, and bought my piano workbook for my class piano. I returned to the music building, and settled in for my first class, nine-am Theory III. I was instantaneously surrounded by some of my favorite people from freshman theory, as well as some favored classmates who had to retake it. Dr. Johnson is an excellent personality. A wit, a man who genuinely enjoys the work he is doing and delights in sharing it. We'll get along swimmingly.

After theory, I had a brief respite. My next class didn't start until eleven-am, so I went about some of the additional business I had to complete. I walked across campus to the CASA tutoring center and procured for myself the paperwork prerequisite of working as a tutor. From there I texted my merciful brother, and begged that he should provide caffeination that I might survive the day. He graciously did provide it, and I continued my day with eleven-am French.

French is my only non-music class this semester and, funny enough, when I entered the class this morning, four of my fellow students were music majors. I settled in next to one of them and sat through the syllabus and a little bit of introductory French in the form of name games.

After French I had nothing to do, earlier in the day I had signed up for my re-audition for U.Singers, but the excerpt to be prepared was simple, and I was not worried for the audition (But more on that later.) I waylaid the Freakishly-tall Tenor and Mufasa who were out enjoying the sun and waiting for free food. I chilled with them and followed when they removed from the company of the Sopranos towards the music building. I hung out with them in the Lounge for a good hour, re-acclimating myself to socializing with my music peeps.

Mufasa and I practiced the excerpt, it was simple, consisting of a bass line not untypical in choral music, four or five notes repeated, sometimes in different octaves, but at simple intervals. At two-twenty I went into my audition and sang for Dr. Busarow, the new head of choral. I was having a strange day, vocally. I sang an Eb 2 on bottom and a G# 4 on top. My normal is a D2 on bottom with maybe the F4 on top. Strange day.

After my audition, I went home with my mama and, having arrived home, held a baby for half an hour and sat down, I fell asleep. I took a nap, a long nap.

There isn't much more to say. I was attempting to find out what had me stressed today, by working back through it. It didn't really work. I think there must have been a wide array of small antagonizing thoughts that made up my anxiety train.
Perhaps the light of tomorrow morning will illumine the darkness...

Tune in tomorrow for more.

Thanks for reading.