Dear Christian Bale,

I have always loved you.  I'm not one of those females who suddenly fell in love with you when you started doing crappy actions movies and speaking in a monotone husky voice.  No!  I liked you way back, when you were rocking "Newsies," quite possibly one of the most delightful Disney musicals ever.  (At least compared to the current musicals they do.  Hannah Montana the movie? I think not).  But Newsies?  That was great.  Granted, I was 6 when that movie came out, but I loved it at the time.  Now I realize there's a bit of an age difference between us, but I'll just keep loving your movies from 10 years ago, and prefer the past to the present, and then it's not so bad is it?  Let's look at your cinematic past:

Empire of the Sun: You stole my heart with your adorable British accent.  You were how old? 13?  My hear is still clapping.

Newsies:  I need not repeat myself.  You were dreamy at 18, and you sang and danced.

Little women: As usual, Winona Ryder gets ALL of the hearthrobs.  Johnny Depp, the dude from Mermaids, Christian Slater.   And she didn't choose to marry you in this movie.  Her loss.  It was probably your long hair.  It wasn't really flattering.  Fortunately, this 1994 magazine cover shows your hunkiness to its fullest.

 Velvet Goldmine: Yum.  Not only did I get to watch you get corrupted, but I also got to watch Ewan McGregor and John Rhys-Meyers.  You still have a preference for real movies during this time, movies in which your brains and your beauty are showcased-not your rippling muscles.

Midsummer Night's Dream: You showcased your attempts at a thespian future with Shakespeare, and did ok.  Your character was obnoxious, but that wasn't entirely your fault.

American Psycho: Your claim to fame.  You got to show your ephemeral beauty at its finest- the guise of a madman.  Your penchant for accents finally won you a non-British part of substance, and it was awesome.  Combining a hot man with an instrument of murder is surprisingly sexy-just don't invite me to your place anytime soon, Mr. Bateman.  And you actually did a great job acting, not just looking foxy.

Shaft: This was the first of many action films to come, a harbinger of your ill-fated future of apocalyptic universes, the supernatural, and jumping off of buildings.  I should've known better.

Now, I've never seen Laurel Canyon or Reign of Fire, but anything involving you and dragons makes me want to stay away.

Equilibrium: Another sci-fi action movie.  I'm sensing a pattern here, pal.

The Machinist: While I don't remember much about this movie, I do remember that you were good in it, and you lost tons of weight to look awful, and everyone loves when actors mess with their bodies for the sake of "art."  I'll have to check it out again.  At least it's not an action movie.

Batman Begins: This is the role you've been waiting for.  The opportunity to canoodle with Katie Holmes.  The chance to speak in monotone.  The chance to get ripped and hang out with Michael Caine.  Just remember, Batman is never the star.  Just look at all the other actors: Val Kilmer, George Clooney...Batman never has good writing or good lines.  Watch as you get typecast for all action movies...starting NOW!

I haven't seen Rescue Dawn or Harsh Times, so I can't really talk about those.

The Prestige: Great movie.  David Bowie? Yes.  Hugh Jackman?  Please.  And you?  Sounds like a winner, a reminder that you can act without violence and explosions involved.

3:10 to Yuma: a western action movie.  Need I say more?

The Dark Knight: I know, I know.  Heath Ledger stole the show.  But really, couldn't you have at least tried to act?  It's like the more people you rescue and the more muscles you chisel, the less brains and nuance you have.  Really disappointing, especially when you spend most of the movie in costume, and I can't blame your bad acting on your looks.  Aaron Eckhart did a much better job than you did.  Are you losing your touch?

Terminator: Salvation: Another f*cking action movie?  Whatever happened to real movies?  Dramas?  movies where you didn't kill people or save them from killers?   Do you remember those movies?  

So, you can see, Mr Bale, I've really lost faith in your abilities.  You've slowly lost your ability to be in movies where you don't beat the crap out of people or save them from the forthcoming apocalypse.  If you reconsider your cinematic choices, maybe I can love you again.  But until then, I'm giving me affections to someone else, someone who can return my affections with a better acting job.  (John Cusack?  Anton Yelchin? the guy from Twilight? Oh wait, I was talking about acting skills.  Harry Potter?)  So you can see, you've got to step up your game.  Bring it on-I'll be waiting.

love,

kayleigh 

"Oh-and now you have time to find a boyfriend?"

     About a month ago, one of my neighbors moved out and he saw me in the elevator, and asked what I was doing for the summer.  I guess he specifically was more interested in who I might be dating this summer, because he claimed that someone in the building had a thing for me.  And I told him that I was busy and not exactly on the prowl for a guy.  His response, "You probably have more time now to find someone."  I was polite at the time, but a voice in my head was screaming, "No! No! You evil ass!  Women do not NEED significant others at all times."  It was certainly an awkward situation, only made more awkward because my neighbor has told me on more than one occasion that he would've asked me out if he was single.  (Minor detail: I'm NOT interested and never was.)  But fundamentally, there was a bigger issue at hand: women do not need men in order to be successful or happy.  Just because I'm single does not mean that I'm looking for love.  It's not that I'm opposed to romantic intricacies, it's just that I don't feel a compelling need to be on the prowl.   

     As someone has been single for most of her life, I absolutely detest when people still think that women can't be independent and successful, and if you are independent and successful, then you're a lesbian, a man-hater, selfish, or not interested in ever having a family.  But I'm none of those things, and most likely, neither are you!  It would be nice to have a significant other, but it's not a requirement.  Seriously.  

    In one of my children's books, "Sisters Grimm: The Everafter War," Snow White is talking to one of the Sisters Grimm.  (The Sisters Grimm are the long lost descendants of the Brothers Grimm and they live in a place called Ferryport Landing, where all fairy tale characters are real and living together.  Snow White is engaged to Prince Charming, but doesn't want to marry him.  She is the resident self-defense teacher, and here she explains why she can't marry Prince Charming.)

"I won't marry someone who has to take care of me.  I'm going to take care of myself.  I have to prove to myself that I can, again."

(Snow White was attacked by BlueBeard, and was petrified, and couldn't use her self-defense techniques, which made her furious with herself.)

So no, I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Mr. Neighbor.  If one fell out of the sky, I wouldn't refuse him, but I'm not, nor have I ever been, in need of a man to get me through the day.  I've done just fine for the last 22 years.

Listening to: the new Grizzly Bear album.

Fighting the Need for Speed

In driving 7+ hours today, as well as during my driving last week, I was observing the driving patterns of the species known as humans.  This group of non-celestial beings has decided that driving rationally will simply not do.  It doesn't matter the circumstance, but cars are striving to pass others constantly, seeking power and speed and superiority.  In a constant power struggle, how can we be ok with our powerlessness?  How can I accept that other cars simply drive faster than 75 mph on a rainy day on a freeway frequented by police?  Each time a car passes me, I feel threatened, as if I'm not good enough for the person passing me.  I'm not fast enough, I'm not a good enough driver, I'm just not enough.  And then I see them in front of me, and I realize they haven't accomplished much.  They're just in front of me, and not behind me.  But we end up in the same place, and we'll probably be there the same time, give or take 4 minutes.  Am I really that bad of a person because I don't drive above 80? Am I really a bad person because I'm not good enough for everyone else?   One must trust that 75 or 70 or 65 (never ever below the speed limit, of course) is the best speed for oneself, and hope that all will be well, no matter what everyone else thinks.

currently watching: angels in america.

As I walked the empty streets, I was filled with the company of my memories.

As I walked the damp streets of Boston back to the apartment where I've been staying this week, I was alone in my thoughts and surrounded with the memories of years. In Harvard Square, I walked by Au Bon Pain, where I saw my dad eating dinner with me four years ago, and I saw my mom in the children's bookstore on the corner where Curious George makes his home. I saw myself at Border Cafe with different groups of people, going to Toscanini's for ice cream after orchestra concerts, going out before BPO concerts. I walked on the Charles river on Saturday, and I remembered walking with my father from Cambridge to Boston, one ambitious fall day, and I saw the hotel my mother and I stayed in when I moved to Boston 5 years ago. Taking the green line home reminds me of last summer and my daily commutes to Newton, and walking on Park reminds me of all the people who I've visited on that street. Some of those people have come and gone from my life-despite what facebook tries to tell you, you can't stay in touch with everyone from your past. People disappear over time from your life, and your shared memories are your gifts to the future and present. Friends move, people change, and you must have the wisdom to know when to hold on, and when it's time to let go. Sometimes, distance and change can keep people together, but other times, it is the wind which blows the sand away. Rather than cling to something that has long past, we can only hope that we will build new memories, with new people, and that those too may fade. But to have experienced them at all, is what is most important and most valuable.
I'm not at home in Rochester because I have no stored memories there, and even now, I feel like a visitor in a place I don't want to build memories in. I have a few moments of company here and there, but most of my memories inhabit the winding paths and brick buildings of Boston. They wait like ghosts in the caverns of my mind, and when I invite them in, they make themselves at home, until they too, slowly fade away, like the last goose flying away for winter into the dusky sunset.

Currently listening to: the Dodo's.

Quickie Post

     I'm thrilled to be going to Boston tomorrow, for Merrick's wedding and for general social contact with friends and civilization.  With my very small group of friends here, sometimes I forget that other people like me too!  I'm thrilled to see everyone that's around, and I only wish everyone was there, which is virtually impossible.  Anyway, here's a quick thought before I travel.

Everytime I drive outside of Rochester, I notice the plethora of roadkill, and I often think of the animal's family or offspring, or whatever.  Maybe it's weird, but I feel awful when I see a mammal smooshed, its limbs splayed in the moment of impact.  Raccoons, possums, deer- I feel for them.  I often say a little lovingkindness prayer, just because I see so many dead animals each week.  To teach, I drive 3-4 hours a week, mostly in the outskirts of Rochester, where there are lots of animals, and less humans.  If I feel this way about roadkill, you can imagine how I feel about war, hate, and the like.  I don't understand why I feel things so intensely that other people can just shrug off.  It's not just animals, it's everything.  When I see someone I don't know who looks gloomy, I feel sad too.  If I go to the supermarket, and the person who checks me out is my parents' age or older, I feel badly that they don't have a lucrative job, or that they couldn't retire already.   Or if I go to a standard retail place like the Gap (ugh!) or H&M, and someone working there is between 40-60, I wonder how they can support a family or other people with dubious wages.  Sometimes this sensitivity to others emotions gets me in trouble, when other people want to be closed off, or don't want empathy.  But at its simplest level, I just don't understand why others can't feel what I feel, or want to be compassionate to others on a larger level.  Maybe that's a mystery of my life.

Listening to: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks.   Am currently preparing for the mega drive tomorrow, with LOTS of tunes.

Please Stop Pretending We're Best Friends.

I just read this book that's entertainingly relevant to one of this year's dilemmas...how to deal with my now ex-best friend.  The book, "Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List," has a really stupid title, but is actually about two best friends, who un-best-ify in their friendship.  Naomi has always had a crush on Ely (who is a boy and happens to like boys) which has always affected their friendship.  She's almost always lived in a fantasy about this aspect of their friendship.  And then ely sort of accidentally canoodles with Naomi's current boyfriend, whom she doesn't like much.  And then the shit flies.  Despite it's targeted YA audience, (my maturity sometimes is operating at the level of a 16-year-old's), the book still deals with the issues of repairing a failed friendship, living in a fantasy (I know about that!), and cultivating forgiveness (not so good at that).

     While both of the characters are somewhat annoying at times, I definitely could identify with the emotional content of the book.  Naomi believes that she and Ely will eventually get married, and that they will be close forever.  Ely never thought that.  (Sound familiar?)  And basically, that's what the book is about.  Naomi realizing that fantasy isn't real, and Ely realizing that he can't throw people away like they're disposable.  I definitely can identify with the whole fantasy bit, because there's still a part of me that wants to be friends with Him (*I'm quite sure I don't need to use names here, right folks?*) forever, and there's this other part of me that just wants to cuss him out and scream at him.  We can't be good friends anymore, but I just can't completely discard him, and I still have this infinitely small part of me that wants him to change and go back to the way he used to be, back when I liked him more, back when he was nicer, and everything was simpler.  But time can only go forward.  

    Our friendship has been slowly crumbling this whole year, ever since the end of October, when he no longer needed me.  Sometimes I'm glad that we're not close anymore.  Other times I'm sad, since I had hoped (fantasy alert!) that everything would last.  I can't stand the way he acts now- like every moment is a show where his stupid sense of humor must be showcased and nothing can be taken seriously.  I hate how he doesn't care-about people, about animals, about politics, about global warming, about recycling, about anything else, really.  I realized this year that he's so clueless that he really has no idea what's going on in the world, nor does he care.  And I think that's sad.  Whether you are an atheist, a Christian, a Buddhist, or a Jew, time on earth is limited.  You may only have one chance to do the things you want to, and it would be a travesty to miss out on the opportunity to do good, help others, and grow as a person.  (or maybe I'm the only one that thinks that).  To only live for myself is not living at all, it's dying.

     Friendships come and go- I know that, but to have it slowly and agonizingly die over a period of months is much worse than having a fight and calling it quits.  I'd almost rather we have a cataclysmic fight, and then all of this denial would be over.  It makes me sad to only be contacted by him when he needs somethings- directions to a gas station, suggestions about what to play, what to wear for a wedding, books from the library, etc.  If you want to be someone's friend, ask them how they're doing first.  Then ask for the favor.  If you only ask them for favors, you're not friends anymore.  At least, you're not my friend anymore.  

      So please, please *&%^ stop pretending that we're friends.  You don't care about me anymore.  Maybe you never did.  And my fantasy is over.  I know you will never be the kind of friend I want: the kind that cares about puppies and women's rights and how plastic is the spawn of satan, and how books from a library save money, and how volunteering helps your soul.  I've found those friends elsewhere, and I will no longer be needing your services.  If you continue to need my services, I recommend that you call someone else.

Listening to: tunes from the library.  The Dodos, Petra Haden, and more.

Little Children: prejudice and hate in suburbia.

           Last night, I saw a film that was interestingly thought provoking: Little Children, starring Kate Winslet and Patrick Wilson (also in Hard Candy and the Watchmen-I think I'm in love with him.)  Anyway, it started off as one of those normal "families falling apart in suburbia" (think chumscrubber, american beauty, revolutionary road, etc.)  Anyway, the storyline that was in fact the most interesting, at least to me, was that of the child molester who moves back in with his mother in the same neighborhood as everyone in this suburban dwelling.  He is publicly ostricized, is prohibited from being near parks, schools, etc, and the only person who can see past all of this is his mother.  He is not an entirely sympathetic character- it is clear that he has not recovered from his indecent urges, and still suffers.  His mother sets him up on a blind date with someone from a personal ad, who turns out to be a woman recovering from a mental breakdown.  He behaves himself for the whole date, and then, in the car, while they are talking, he exposes himself and begins feverishly masturbating, traumatizing the woman.  It's clear that he has problems, and he knows that he can't escape them.  A former policeman continues to attack him throughout the film, and also attacks his mother, until she has a heart attack and later dies in the hospital.  The former molester ultimately has a breakdown of his own, because his mother's last words were "Be a good boy for me."  He knows that he shouldn't feel or do the things that he does, but he can't stop them, and he loses it.  He is basically an outsider and can't conform to society's norms.  At the end, Kate Winslet finds him in the park, where he is sitting in a swing, crying and moaning.  He confesses that his Mommy has died, the only person who could ever love him.  And she realizes that he is a person, not a monster.  Another character in the film finds him in the park later, and realizes that he has taken a kitchen knife and castrated himself, so that he "can be good."  It's then that I felt so much sympathy for this character, because he wanted to be good, to be normal, to fit in, but he couldn't, for so long.  The movie's main plot is focused on the two marriages that are falling apart, Winslet's and Wilson's, and they have an affair.  However, this is not terribly relevant to my spiel.

     Perhaps this is far-fetched, but for me, I saw Ronnie, the molester, as a symbol for all of the outsiders in society, in this suburbia.  He is a freak, someone deserving of ridiculous punishment, as the women in the park speak of in the beginning of the film.  They talk of how he should be castrated as punishment for his actions in the past.  His plot line in the film reminded me so much of the current war against gay marriage, gay adoption, and even homosexuality in Christianity.  The people of the town see Ronnie as someone having chosen his affliction, who enjoys hurting people, and who has no redeeming qualities.  I often see the same argument for homosexuality, and it troubles me.  How can we be so lacking in compassion that we see people as mere shadows of what they actually are?  Despite Ronnie's major flaws, he loved his mother very much, and clearly, should've been in a psychiatric ward.  Anyone not conforming to the "straight" orientation label doesn't choose  their affliction, nor do they want to hurt people.  (I'm not in any way trying to connect the actions and lifestyle of Ronnie with the actions of non-straight people.  Any such connection is ludicrous.  I'm merely noting that society ostracizes people as harshly for criminal acts and psychological issues as they do for a sexual orientation, and that, is quite tragic.)

      Thanks to jucispeak, I can keep up on women's issues and issues of equality, whether in gendered, orientation, or racially based situations.  Sadly, the battle is far from over.  This clip, taken from jucispeak and feministing, illustrates this issue, and proves that many people still see homosexuality as an illness, a choice, and a lot of other crazy things.  (Ever watch the NOM-Gathering Storm Video?  There are so many responses to it...)  Anyway, let's hope that we can change people's point of view, or at least relax the hate a little bit. 

Currently listening to: The Dodo's "Visiter"  It's *awesome*.

Women Not In Power?

Yesterday, I had the good (mis)fortune of ushering Eastman's commencement.  I am a true cynic when it comes to the pomp and circumstance of commencements- I thought high school's was hysterical, and NEC's was just ok, but Eastman's was quite interesting, from a social anthropological standpoint.  Aside from all of the ego stroking "Eastman is the best school EVER!" crap, I noticed (aside from it being a long commencement) that all of the leadership positions in the University and school of music, were held by men.  

-President of the University: Male

-Chairman of the Board: Male

-Dean of the Music School: Male

-Commencement Speaker: Male

-Marshalls for Commencement: Male

Now, there were some women involved.  Marie Rolf presented the Doctorate Students, and the two teaching awards went to women.  But it did make me think, why aren't women interested in leading universities, music schools, orchestras, and the like?  I think women are pursuing arts administration seriously now, and that women between 20-40 are really succeeding in that field.  However, presidents and board chairmen tend to be 50+ in their age, and are remnants of a former time.  (i.e. the 60's and before!)  It was so interesting to think that women haven't really pursued these administrative leadership positions as much, and that only now, have they been able to.  I don't necessarily think that the service was sexist- if 11 people apply for a job, and 2 are women, and the best qualified is a man, that's not necessarily sexist...that's just the numbers.  The better question is, how can we get women in the fields that they wish to pursue?  Then, if there's sexism involved, we can attack and fight.  Until then, I just will continue to observe the situations as they unfold, and notice the lack of female leadership in all fields here at Eastman.

Listening to: Rooney.  (Yes.  This is embarrassingly bad pop music.  But let me explain.  I was watching "The Princess Diaries" last weekend because I wanted to stay in bed and watch a movie, and that's what I watched. Anyway, Anne Hathaway's love interest was a chap who looked mysteriously like Jason Schwartzman, my life-long crush.  It turned out to be his brother, Robert Schwartzman, who happens to be the lead singer for the band Rooney. (Who were incidentally all the rage in 2004, as well, with their super poppy first album).  Anyway, I remember Schwartzman having played in Phantom Planet, whose song "California" was all the rage back in '03, and I knew I had some of Rooney's albums, so now I'm listening to some really great I-IV-V tuneage, just to compare.  And be entertained.  Ok?  Don't judge)

Scaling My Way to the Top?

Let me preface this all by saying that this is a mostly viola related posting.  Or technically, a string instrument related posting.  Don't say I didn't warn you, ok?

Anyways, in my life, I have a few key interests: viola, yoga, reading,  cooking, making things, Buddhism, etc...and each of those interests rotate in level of prominence in my life.  (For example, I was really focused on viola and Buddhism in February, and I read a ton in March, and I crafted a bunch last summer).   Currently, I'm in the reading and viola (with a hint of crafting) modes, and what that sometimes means is that I get really into technique.  String technique, that is.  (Of course, not the technique of reading.  That would not be as interesting at all.  Give me a book.  Read it.  If it's bad, maybe I won't finish it.  If it's really good, I'll finish it quickly.  That's the technique.) Ahem, so string technique.  I've gone in and out of being fascinated by technique, technical studies, the role of studies in practicing and growth, etc.  I have this obsession roughly once a year for 1-3 months, and I eventually get bored, and slim 2 hours of technique down to a half hour.  (Although for most of junior year, I did 1-2 solid hours of technique/scales/etudes a day for the whole year.  So points to me for that).  Rather than explain my entire technical theories and agenda, let me address an issue that I occasionally grapple with when I'm feeling pedagogically erudite...scales.

Now let me preface this section by saying that I have always done my scales.  Flesch.  Since high school.  Absolutely every day, at least some representation of scalar/arpeggiation action.  Double stops and chromatics...not so much, but certainly and basics.  (Although mind you, my weird keys are a little dubious...F sharp minor, and for some odd reason C# minor).  Ahem, anyways, they are mostly in tune, and I can do some nice bow patterns and things with them.  

So I was reading articles from Strings Magazine (yes, that was very dorky of me) and I came upon this one, by Atar Arad.  In the article, Arad argues for nontraditional scale material, saying that learning a pattern by rote is useless at a certain point.  He also says that there is no musical context for scales (i.e. you don't make music out of a scale.  at least not unless Danny Heifetz asks you to.)  The questions that Arad asks are:

1) Why repeat scales over and over with a fixed set of fingerings?...Fingerings should be chosen with a musical consideration.

2) Why limit our scale work to major and minor modes while, for quite a number of generations, most composers have not?

3) Why limit our scale work to symmetrical patterns, when most of the music we play is...farm from being symmetrical?

He has a number of other relevant and interesting points in this article, some of which I agree with and others that I don't know how to solve.  However, I am not in a possession of pedagogical leadership to totally get rid of scales.  What he argues for is that students collect chromatic, scalar, and other types of passagework, and assemble them into a book to make etude-like work most productive.  I think that's a sweet idea, but I haven't totally converted from my scale loving ways.  I can safely say that doing Sevcik and Dounis and Flesch have really helped my technique, both left and right hands, and I'm not ready to fling them to the abyss.  They're my old grumpy men teachers, who are telling me, with a deep European accent, "Moooore.  You must practize Moore.  And zis exercises...vill solve all your troubles."  But I do sometimes long for a fresher teacher.  Maybe someone born after 1920?  

         I'm getting sidetracked.  As long as I'm in school, I have to do scales.  But it never specifies which ones, does it?  Like I can do a pentatonic scale?  Or practice the modes?  I think so.  I do agree with teachers who say that scales and arp. can really boost intonation and facility.  But I also agree that playing the same major and minor scales for your whole life, when music in the last 150 years has long since left that language (except for special exceptions, such as minimalism, cheesy neo-romanticism, and bad film music). The solution?  "Accidentals Happen!"

Yes, that is the title of this book.  But I actually think it will be a super cool summer project.  It has all of the modes, pentatonic, hungarian scales, hindu, arabic, augmented, blues and bebop and some other things.  I do think that scales are super useful...but once you've got the gist of it, it gets boring.  Yes, I'm sure I could play more in tune in my normal scales, but why not try a different set of patterns?  In conjunction with my Sevcik and other things, it can't go astray.  (I do however believe that you should be able to play the normal ones in all the keys and not crash and burn.  I feel like I can do that.)  And it's not like I'll forget how to play normal scales, so when C-rod inquires, I can reply that I did my scales.  MY being the key word.

*In other news, I am having a nice break so far.  I will discuss that next.  Also, if any of you sporadic readers care to contribute a bit of pedagogical wisdom on the scale business, feel free.  I'm always interested.  I'm also going to Boston next week, and I'm very excited to do so.  I'm also reading lots of books, and am open to suggestions.  See goodreads to check out what's on booklist for life.  

Currently listening to: things I've gotten from the Brighton library- Ra ra riot, Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, etc.

Sexism! Rape! Murder!

It seems that my interest in gender has permeated my life as of late.  I'm currently rereading "the lovely bones" which is the tragic tale of a 14-year-old girl who is raped and murdered.  She tells the story from heaven, while she watches her family grieve and try to move on.  I also watched the world's most disturbing movie, "Hard Candy." (starring the Watchmen's Patrick Wilson, and Juno's Ellen Page) which also deals with issues of guilt, rape, murder, and pedophilia.  And did I mention that I watched the new Star Trek movie on Sunday?  And did you know that there is only one character of any prominence that is female?  Anyway, let's start with the benign.

      With Star Trek, I don't think the sexism is anyone's fault, at least not in the remake.  The original series only had one or two female parts, tops.  There was the women in the mini-dress who looked like Foxy Brown (AKA. pam grier), the character of "Nyota Uhura,"who never did anything but act as secretary.  I think there was also a nurse too.  (Because nurses and secretaries are ALWAYS women!)  Anyway, in the remake, there were no female leads, because, alas, the TV show from 1966 had no female leads. In the remake, Nyota is a more intelligent and articulate character, but at the end of the day, she was really just Spock's love interest.  And what made the dynamic so weird is that she is in love with him, but since he's Spock, he's not exactly emotive, and the whole thing is pretty weird.  Fortunately, they did one thing right by making her resist Kirk's super tacky moves.  If she had fallen prey to him, I would've been really pissed, because there would be NO strong female character roles in this film.  Overall, I didn't think it was the film's fault---it's just how the series was 40 years ago.  Fortunately, later versions of the show had some fierce females (Captain Janeway!  Deanna Troy!)  Yet, even in Star Trek TNG (the next generation), the men still have the power.  Deanna just looks good in a jumpsuit.  I mean, I guess I can't really talk, since I grew up having a crush on the only teenager in the show, Wes Crusher (aka. Wil Wheaton).  Anyway, that's my rant about sexism and sci-fi.   

    I highly recommend "The Lovely Bones."  I think it is more of a book about death and life than about violence against women, but the author, Alice Sebold, was raped in college, and elements of this do manifest in the writing of the book.  To remember that such crimes happen anywhere and at any time can remind us that the war against violence is truly not over.  Sexual crimes are still happening here, and abroad.  (They are also making a movie of "The Lovely Bones" with the girl from Atonement, Saoirse Ronan, who is very talented, and will probably do an excellent job even if the movie sucks.)

I also watched "Hard Candy" which is ridiculously disturbing, a la Stephen King's "Misery".  14-year-old Hayley has been chatting and flirting online with a 32 year old photographer, and plans to meet him for coffee.  She throws herself at him excessively, and they seem to get along.  She ultimately invites herself to his house, makes them some drinks (screwdrivers in middle school?), but laces his with drugs so he passes out.  She then tortures him excessively, saying that he is a pedophiliac and a murderer.  It is never entirely clear whether not any of this is true, but it seems that he has done things that are questionable.  The movie is then an intense drama-thriller, where you don't know who is crazier, and who is to blame.  But at the end, he admits to having been involved in the murder of a young girl whom Hayley seems to know, suggesting that he is guilty.  This was such an odd movie because the teenager has the power throughout the movie, strapping him to tables, duct taping him to a chair, performing a fake castration on him (he thinks he's being castrated, but she fakes it, making him cower), stunning him with a cattle gun, and loads of other violent acts.  I didn't come away with a clear feeling of relief at the end, and I didn't ever feel that Hayley's acts were merited, even if he did do something wrong.  But the moral was more that he tried to seduce a nymphet, and she bit back...hard.  She set him for the attack, and prepared herself well to ruin him.  

      I don't know what any of this has to do with the state of women in life, but I did think it was all rather interesting, and it continues to remind me that sexism and violence are still issues that I have to grapple with, whether in the media, or in classical music.  (If I was in a wordier mood, I'd do a rant about the role of women in Twilight...but we'll save that for another time).

Currently listening to:  the Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack.  Fun times.

Winter Was Hard.

I've been in quite a blue funk these last few days and weeks.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why I haven't been Miss Smiley lately, but I'm hoping the sequence of events doesn't happen again.  Without going on a serious rant, here's why this year and (why this school) has really sucked for me.  Hopefully, next time will be better.

1) Rochester is a really depressing place to live.  The lack of sunshine, the decrepit buildings, being hit on during the daily walk to school-these things all really take a toll on me, a toll that I didn't predict.  I miss being able to walk places, feeling safe after dusk, and being confident that I might not be mugged on the way to school.

2) This school makes me angry.  Orchestra is awful, chamber music isn't amazing, and class selections aren't that interesting.  I thought that I might take "great" classes at Eastman, or at least, that's what I was told, but instead, it's really just the same mumbo jumbo as everywhere else.  There's just more busywork.  I hate knowing that my teacher is the only full-time tenured *female* string faculty, and that sexism can still be happening.  I hate finding out that what I wear to my jury may have affected the outcome, or that I play the viola in a "feminine" fashion.  What the fuck.  I hate that programming, repertoire, and classes are very conservative- composers have existed after 1950?  Wow.  Both the students and teachers are conservative in their perspectives, and that infuriates me to no end.  I hate that the library doesn't use a sensor and that every time I am looking for something that should be on the shelves, it's AWOL.  (use a sensor or tattle-tape.  seriously)  I hate that most of the people here seem obsessed with music, but don't necessarily have a good grip on reality and the current state of classical music.  The so-called "hottest" school of music really just has problems with its heating system and some of the foxiest gay men around.  Everything else is just brutally cold.

3) I have really hated being injured.  I haven't been able to write much, do yoga, or practice, and that has affected me in ways I simply could never have predicted.  I have had nothing to do, and I think that has made me dwell on the problematic and melancholy things in my life.

4) I have really missed my friends from NEC, and it's been tragic to grow apart from friends that I had hoped to be closer with.  It's sad that sometimes the people who you care about don't care about you, or simply don't know how to.  To see a friendship pass from closeness to distance is really awful.

5) I haven't been able to tell my family about all the minor tragicomedic elements in my life, which has made me feel distant from them.  It's also been sad to see the tension erupt between my mom and her sister, while also realizing that my grandparents will not live forever.  It doesn't help that we had to put my dog down.  

6) What perhaps has been the worst is that as I have felt consistently better about my playing this year, I have been receiving fatty rejections and disapprovals everywhere, including here at Eastman.  Between my juries, the concerto competition, and orchestra, I have at times wondered whether the musical elements I value will ever be seen by anyone else.  Is it really possible for my playing to be as invisible as the rest of me has been for so long?  (And did I mention that my graduate award has been f*ed up two years in a row?  Or that many of my kitchen appliances and personal possessions have broken this year?  Or that I have been told by multiple peers (but not carol) that my viola and bow just aren't good enough, and that I should buy a new one?  (how?  with what money???))

I imagine it's not hard to see why I don't like it here.  But on the bright side...

1) I have a small but delightful group of people.  And I mean small.  BUT it's ok, because my people actually care about me!  And my well being!  And my shitty self esteem!  

2) It is spring now, so the nasty weather can't get me down.

3) I'm closer to Canada now, and Canada is awesome.  I'm excited to spend my summer there.

4) I have my teacher's sympathy and disdain for the system that has worked against me, in multiple manifestations this year.  And while that doesn't solve anything, it does help, quite a lot.

5) I'm going to beast my repertoire this summer and next year, as a royal fuck you to this *esteemed* educational establishment and the people who think that I suck.  And even if no one notices, I will know that I am worthy, even if every one cannot see me or my merits.  And that's that.

Listening to: the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack.