When the caterpillar looks in the mirror and discovers its beauty

Do you ever look at yourself, really look, in the mirror, and wonder how you've become whatever it is that you are? I've lately taken to this thought, maybe in the excess solitude that befalls me in this current location, or because I've been listening to too much depressing music and reading sad short stories. Would I recognize myself at 23 (almost 24) ten years ago? I certainly don't look that different. I've still got the familial trademarks to which I cling-the short vienna sausage toes, the overmuscular calves, the well fed slightly lumpy middle section, and a decent chest size. I've taken to realizing that my taste in clothing in middle school was actually quite good, ahead of my time perhaps, and I've begun wearing some of my old clothes, since I lacked the courage, the perspicacity, and style to really pull it off. Sometimes I think that I've finally become the person I wanted to be 10 years ago-more courageous, articulate, less afraid of consequences, yet still wise and rational. At the same time, I see this vestiges of my former personas-the fear- of others' censure, of judgment, rejection, solitude. I walk on a precipice between embracing and rejecting this principles; transgressing my fears, yet still retaining a hollowness when I realize that everyone else is having a campfire without anyone inviting me. I remember those days when I used to linger in the bathrooms of school, in order to avoid being seen, alone, friendless, and fearful of the judgment that comes with it. Or the running away from awkward social situations, with groups with whom I knew, and still know, I don't belong with.

I remember the tragic days of spending time with the tennis team, with the girls of bouncy, buoyant youth, money, and suntanned perfection, and their expensive polo shirts and designer jeans. Or the individualist kids in my class- the ones with wit and humor and great taste in music, whom everyone wanted to date. I never fit into one group, as I do not now, here. I instead navigate an obstacle course of social situations, finding a common thread, or ground, appraising other's social skills and establishing whether or not it would indeed be useful to be their friend, whether they could learn to care for me, as I so quickly would for them. Or whether a brief friendship would arise from convenience, from youth and proximity, rather than any shared values, personal behaviors, or beliefs in goodness, love and caring. This is the field I navigated back then, and left empty handed, and it is the mountain I still scale, though equipped more fully than in days past. I used to be so ashamed of my loneliness, so desperate for someone to recognize me, to see my beauty of personality, to want me in his or her life. Now, I crave it less and less, as I know that people do care about me, just maybe not the ones here right now. I've looked in the mirror hard and long, and I've criticized so much of myself, analyzed so many of my faults, that I thought I might never be beautiful to anyone, not even myself. But the mirror is deceptive, and time is like water: cleansing, ever moving, always changing. Water is what creates our body-too much or too little causes death, in conjunction with an ever changing current of emotions and feelings that befall us.

I am not sure that 23 or 24 is quite what I imagined. I haven't fallen in love yet, or started a brilliant career in veterinary sciences or writing, or really music, for that matter. And I haven't become glamorously thin, like I always hoped I would, nor have I suddenly woken up with the voice of Ella Fitzgerald. But the things that have happened have been lovely, and organic, and change has come slowly and deliberately. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone worth knowing this year, someone with social graces, and a nice home, and lovely friends, and chic style. A woman cutting her hair short is about to make a grand change in her life, and I have. While I still see the echoes of my former awkward self, I retain the outer shell of a courageous young woman, neither child nor full adult, embracing the solitude of this moment, this day, this week in time. If I saw myself today, when I was 13, I'd be pleased, if not slightly disappointed, but trusting in the person I'm becoming, and the way that time has a way of unfolding itself, like a note someone passed to you in middle school. Everything just is.

What to do with my life. Or at least the next year.

I have been in a bit of a quandary these last few weeks because I simply have no idea what I exactly want from my life, musically and professionally, and because I have to make some decisions on these matters by tomorrow. The current dilemma is deciding whether or not to go to NEC for a grad diploma with Roger Tapping.

Pro's: He's a great teacher, it's a super strong string program, I could make some excellent connections for life after school in Boston, and I would probably have some good performance opportunities and teaching opportunities. I have many friends who would be at NEC, which shouldn't sway things, but it does anyways. I'll be in Boston, which is a dream come true between choice markets, great shows, yoga, etc. It's what I've been missing these last two years.

Con's: Money-I'd have to take out $20 thousand in loans. Being in school-do I really want/need to be in school in order to learn and be a better musician? Do I really want to stay in the day to day grind of mandatory events like orchestra and occasional class? Is school really the only way to make professional connections in Boston? And, of course, the clincher-what do I actually want from classical music, as a career?

This last bit is perhaps the most troubling, since I don't exactly know anymore. I mean, I've never really "known" what my 30 year plan is, professionally, but I've had great spurts of activity and inspiration, which led to brief flirtations with musicology, college teaching, and orchestral jobs. None of those really hold true now (today, although that may change) although I am still very much interested in teaching as a facet of my career. Though for now, I think I've heard enough suzuki twinkles for this calendar year. In an entirely fictional life plan, in which cost and connections are no object, I would like to be a versatile musician-I'd like to play with a few bands, play in a contemporary music ensemble, teach, and possibly teach yoga or do baking. However, I haven't exactly got the logistics of that dream worked out. The question that Molly asked me last week was apt," the question to ask is what do you want to do with your life and how will the gd help you get there. if it won't or you can't answer the question, it's not worth it."

Can I answer that question, what to do with my life? Yes/no/sort of. What will the GD do for me? It will make me a better violist and teacher. It will give me more professional connections in a place that I might actually want to live in, unlike Rochester. It will give me some really performance opportunities that have been severely lacking here in Upstate New York Hell. But really, do I need to be in a viola performance incubator to just get better? Is going to school for a bullshit degree just a stupid way to buy time before actually dealing with careers and life? Yes. Definitely.

It's been a tricky thing lately, because I've been getting such conflicted commentary on the matter- I know it's still an honor of sorts to get into NEC, even if I went there before, and I know that there are other people who would love to go there and can't. I also know that the money is definitely an inconvenience now, but that there are other means to paying it off and that I won't be saddled with the debt for life. Carol thinks going back to school is a dumbass idea. On one side, I agree. However, I do worry about what exactly I'd be doing with myself if I weren't in school-many of the local orchestras have auditions in the spring now, and I don't know that I could get a decent enough job, teaching or otherwise, to pay for rent and life, or that I'd have time to practice. Carol also is operating under the view that I want to get a doctorate right away, which is definitely not the plan. Or that I could stay in Rochester and teach for a year, which is possibly the worst idea ever. I know my mom's a bit worried that I'll just lose my viola chops if I'm not in school, or that I'll be working a dead-end job and lose my musical aspirations, although she's not exactly the best source on musical career knowledge.

Between pressure from friends on both sides and everyone's continued advice, I'm torn as to what to do. I still haven't heard back from some of the random things I applied to for next year, so things are a bit up in the air, but a part of me feels like I should just send in my deposit tomorrow, and deal with the consequences later. Or just not go if some awesome thing happens in my life. Completely rejecting the offer is a bit terminal, and that scares me. Deferring is still a possibility, and I still haven't found out if RT would give me lessons if I wasn't in school. All two of my options scare me right now, and I never would have guessed how difficult the decision would be. However, many of my friends have offered the advice that, "whatever you decide to do will be the right decision." I hope they're right.

Melan Collie, Solitude, and Living the Live you Never Planned on

Yesterday, I saw the newest Noah Baumbach movie "greenberg," which was a sometimes tragic, sometimes annoying, and sometimes beautiful story. I don't know that I can really summarize the movie exactly, except that the main character is an epic asshole, and that I hope I'm never as narcisissistic as he is. I did enjoy the movie, but if you're not intrigued, you can definitely wait until it's on DVD. However, there were certain elements of the movie that really resounded with me, and were shockingly relevant to the events going on in my life, and my friends' lives.

The line that most connected with me was this concept of "living the life you didn't plan on." Whether that relates to your career, your love life, your friends, your personality, or your deeds, it's a powerful thought.

This contemplation of one's life seems to happen to most people somewhere in their mid-twenties to early thirties. In college, you had dreams and plans and then after school, they failed to deliver. Or you had an amazing girlfriend/boyfriend, and you broke up, and now you feel like you're right back where you started, and that you're never going to find someone that cares about you. Or you start to think that you will always be alone in this world, and that the people you care about and the friendships you build will always dissolve in time and distance just by the nature of constant relocation. Or you start questioning your family's views, your spiritual background, your sexuality, and anything else you've depended on for most of your life. The bottom line is that most people's lives are entirely in flux throughout their twenties and some of their thirties.

Some people get married early and get a job that they end up loving for 40 years, but for most people, have no idea what to expect year to year. It's this ambiguity, this limbo that causes people to feel like their lost in the world, when in fact, they are just as lost as everyone else. The catch is that we ARE alone-no one will ever know us like we know ourselves. Yet, we are not alone- everyone and everything is connected. It's this strange balance, a koan of alone/not alone that we address everyday. By relinquishing our youth in our twenties, we end up having to deal with issues that we've been hiding from for decades: our beliefs that we may be unlovable or that we will never be "good enough." (Sometimes people just never grow up, and like to avoid these internal conflicts. Lucky them.) The weird thing is that chain of fear, doubt, and insecurity is circuitous- you feel bad about yourself and avoid seeing people, even though the one thing that would cheer you up would be to see people. Or you stop playing your instrument because you feel you are inadequate, when in fact, playing would nurture your soul, even if it doesn't match up to an external gauge of success.

Everyday, we tell ourselves things. Culturally, we look down upon schizophrenics, claiming that only a select few people have voices in their heads. We all have voices- voices that support us, that knock us down, tell us we sound bad, compare us to other people, etc. The real test is how we react to those voices, whether we listen to them and let them shape our lives, or whether we punch them in the face. For me, it depends on the day. But these voices are relying on a preconceived outcome of every given situation, to tell you how things are going to go. "You won't perform well on Wednesday because you always have problems with memory/sound/etc." or "You have been single for most of your life. What would change now?" However, the voices don't know anything more than the universe itself. Your future, your life, is not written down. You are in control of most of your life, and the way you choose to react to the events in your life.

When I was a kid, I used to imagine that my life was a chapter in a very large book, and that some unknown intangible being knew how my life was going to unfold, and that I just had to wait for the pages to turn. I imagined a sort of impish creature readying my life as a very riveting piece of biographical material, perhaps a sort of Dobby (hp) creature. While I still hold onto the vestiges of that, I have more of a fantastical approach in my mind, in that I possess a mythical pen (preferably a quill and some glittery magic ink) and that the words fall onto the pages of my life with my own decisions. In my sleep, I bleed the actions of the day onto this invisible book, and I begin the day with no recollection of this transference.

(I've been thinking about this sort of thing a lot lately, as it has been exactly a year since my

tendonitis debacle which ultimately ruined my second semester. So much of what I suffered through

was self-created. While the pain and injury was not, I knew that my perspective was not helping, and

in retrospect, it was a very valuable thing to have happen. Lately, I've been trying to remember how

awful it felt to not play, and how miserable I was without my expression and my viola. That was

certainly one of most unpleasant periods of my life, at least since middle and high school, and I'm

really glad I survived mostly unscathed. It is the apotheosis of this solitude that I am thinking of.

I felt so alone- as though no one could understand how I felt, and as though all of my work and studies

amounted to nothing. That kind of blackness began to permeate all of my life- everything just became

gray and hopeless; my classes sucked, my job was rough, the weather was depressing, and I didn't

have anything to do. I only wish I had so much time to think about things today! This year has been

the complete opposite, and while I still have issues, my overall state of being is much more stable,

and I feel less like a buoy floating untethered in the ocean. Yes, some of those issues still apply:

I don't have an absolute plan for my life, nor do I have a significant other, nor do I have unanimous

approval from summer festivals and teachers. Yet, I have small things- small glimpses of support,

love, and success and that's all I can cling to. I am a planner- I like to be organized. And nothing

that has happened in the last two years has been planned. I am only starting to look forward to

it.)

While this still doesn't ameliorate this quarter-life crisis, a few main points come to mind:

-That we can embrace each moment of life, in all of its glory, pain, and neutrality, and look forward to each moment.

-That none of us is ever as alone as our minds let us believe.

-That every person, no matter how great their flaws, is loveable. (There was a really funny preview for a movie in which the male character meets the woman of his dreams, and he says something along the lines of "Why would you want me? I'm like shrek of the forest. Why is there a beautiful maiden in the swamp?" That made me chuckle.)

-That nothing is ever certain, and we have to be comfortable with that level of ambiguity, doubt, and possibility. With uncertainty comes the possibility for random occurrences- certainty is predictable and entirely dry.

While I wish I could know how my life would unfold- whether I'll find the man, job, or viola of my dreams, I'll embrace the live I never planned on. It's all I've got.

It doesn't all suck! (unless you're being gnawed on by a vampire...)

Life doesn't all suck.  Perhaps my last post did not make that point clear.  My life isn't terrible.  Having an injury isn't ending my life prematurely, even if it did make me crabby and take daily naps. Since my last post, things have drastically improved for me, so there is hope, dear readers, that you too can recover from illness and injury.   Good things:

1) I started to get strength and endurance on Sunday, and have been able to practice almost 2.5 hours a day.  Way to go wrist!

2) I did Reiki level 1 training.  I have new superpowers.

3) I'm still going to do a jury, so my entire future is now in my hands, and I can do the rep I want after the jury.

So things are ok after all, although I did lose about 3 weeks of sanity in the end of March.   Anyway, here are the things I have learned so far:

1) Losing the ability to practice made me really want to practice and play and not take my skills for granted.  (Someone of the more religious perspective said to me that "God injured my tendons because I was getting cocky and proud, and I needed to reaffirm my love in Him to heal myself." I don't know about that...)  But, I do think that losing the ability has made me want to do music more than ever, and be grateful that I can do the music thing.

2) I practice better with a timer.  (I time 20-30 minute sessions now)

3) I learned how to mental practice and really study scores since I couldn't play.

4) I really enjoy teaching my peers and helping them out, which I did more during my injury, and I hope to continue doing.

5) I just learned some technical refinings that will prevent future injuries, so hopefully I'm golden now.

6) I'm more eager to work hard now.

and most importantly, 

I'm happier now.  I just have to keep at it and all will be fine.

Currently listening to: Grizzly Bear, the Islands, and Animal Collective

You Can't Always Get What You Want. (Nor do you get what you need!)

Ahem, so this week, on the Kayleigh show, we saw Kayleigh get stricken by flu, grumpiness, insomnia, congestion, and continue to battle wrist pain-on both sides of her wrist, this time!  And what for?  Hmm...she continued to worry about money (which inevitably makes her think about donating her plasma or her eggs), bemoan her inability to play for more than 20-30 minutes a day, and salivate over David Bowie (despite his uneven pupils).  She has convinced herself that this school year has been the worst ever (at least during college), and she disapproves of the lumpy state of her man legs.  It's been almost 4 weeks since she's been to a yoga class, and 3.5 since the injury.  And it sucks.  All of it.

      Perhaps I have been reading too many novels written by women.  This is rather PMS worthy and grumpy, but it certainly expresses the inner sentiments currently.  I hate being injured- I feel so weak and helpless, a role I don't take to well, and I feel lazy and worthless, since I can't practice at the level of everyone else.  I will have to admit defeat soon, and most likely cancel my jury, which makes me very frustrated, since I spent most of this year preparing for it, and I wanted to kick arse.  For every really good thing that has happened, either in my personal musical progress, something bad or almost worse has occurred.  (I play really well in a competition...a freshman wins and everyone is angry.)  I'm so sick and tired of everything falling apart!  My body, my appliances, my teapots...why can't everything just be ok?  For once?

      Because good things don't always happen to good people.  During my visit with the flu, I watched 6 movies in 2 days, resulting in the resurgence of my love for James McAvoy (of "Atonement" fame).  But, I digress.  Look at the movie "Becoming Jane."  While it is still a movie, it is true that Jane Austen, queen of all things amorous, never found her Mr. Darcy.  She who has inspired thousands of young women to be strong and courageous, to speak their minds...she never found the love of an equal that she strongly advocated.  She didn't have her happy ending.  Not only did this movie make me extremely sad, but it made me feel absolutely terrible for Jane, to have suffered so much by being female.  (It probably didn't help that I watched "Milk" earlier, which also made me cry.)  Deep inside my lacquered exterior, I do believe in my Mr. Darcy, and it hurts so much when things don't work out like so in life or in fiction.  I want to be a fierce violist, a good cook, a witty conversationalist, a confident women with good legs, and right now, I just feel like a pale shell of those things.  

The injury has certainly affected my mood and energy level- I spent the first two weeks napping every day, even though I slept 8-9 hours a night.  Even now, I'm a bit sleepy, despite my 8.5 hours of sleep last night.  I've been lethargic and antisocial- only leaving the apartment to drop off books at the library or go to the market.  I'm so tired of this way of life...what happened to my life before?  This is a relaxing life, but so meaningless and dull.  I'm a prisoner of my own house, and I don't like it.  

So no, you can't always get what you want.  And is this what I need?  I hope not.  It's hard to be optimistic sometimes, and today, I just can't do it.  Maybe tomorrow.

Listening to: the dears, the Islands, the new Decemberists album.

     

New School Semester Resolutions!

Yes- I realize that New Year's was a while ago, but I never feel like a New Year's begun until the first day of class, which happened yesterday.  (And what a day it was!  I accidentally woke up at 4:30 AM and couldn't fall asleep and was quite miserable for a bit of the morn.  Fortunately, last night I got a delicious 10 hours in, so I'm recovering just fine.)  I've been thinking about crafting my resolutions for a while now, since I've had so long, and here are some of my thoughts...

Behavioral Resolutions

1) I will try to be more conversational and friendly with people I don't know, whether they are clerks or waitresses, or classmates that I'm not as familiar with.  Conversation can really brighten people's days.

2) I will procrastinate less.  (In fact, I'm procrastinating practicing right now...but this needs to get done.)  I will be more proactive about things that I find annoying- calling people back when I'm busy, making sure that important mail gets addressed, etc.

3) I will seriously consider my expenditures and thoughtfully address what is most important and not buy things that are too superfluous.  (yoga- important.  Reiki training for $200?  Wait till summer.  Salt lamps?  Maybe later).  

4) I will continue to reduce my "carbon footprint" by using LESS plastic, and reading about ways to improve my lifestyle.

5) I will eat more green things, even when it's 15 degrees and I really want Cream of tomato soup.  (First step, green smoothie challenge for a month.  I'm on day 3.  Each day, have a green smoothie, i.e. fruit + leafy greens)

6) I will try to listen more carefully to my body as to what I should eat and how much.

7) I will try harder to keep in touch with far-flung friends.

8) I will be less fearful of the phone and calling people.

9) I will do my homework.  (I got away with a pretty scant workload last semester, and still got all A's.  But my conscience isn't entirely clear.)

10) ...

Personal Revolutions/Resolutions

1) Go to Zen training in February.  Start meditating regularly.

2) Cook More delicious plant things.  Less eating out.

3) More red wine. And white wine.  Less other drinks.

4) More yoga classes if I can afford it.

5) Keep cultivating lovingkindness.

6) Meditate everyday.  

7) Be less scared.

8) Be proactive.

9) Be happy, damn it.

10) Clean the house more.  Less clutterfuck.

Currently listening to:  Nothing.  Trying to make recordings for bang on a can.  will listen to something soon though.

Change is Good, if you can take it.

This hasn't exactly been the easiest semester.  I thought, last spring, that I wanted a change.  A BIG change.  A new school, a new city, a new life, living alone, etc.  I'm pretty sure I was wrong.  I didn't want anything to change, so I signed up for the most extreme change I could have.  (except living at a yoga ashram-  that's beyond extreme)  And i'm realizing now that I didn't want it, at all.  I loved everything before- I loved walking everywhere, having roommates, the safety of the city, the beauty of the parks, the proximity of Whole Foods, the yoga community and wonderful studios- the community of people I had in music.  And all of that has been absent here, and I have just barely acclimated.  Rochester is not an amazing city- it's frightening to walk at night anywhere, (and can be eerie during the day too), the yoga studios are so different, the Wegman's leaves something to be desired, and I have felt as though I have no community here in Rochester, except a few fantastic people who have saved from perpetual solitude.  A few weeks ago, I was disturbingly upset, because I was thinking how things could have been if I had stayed in Boston, if I had continued the Utopian life I led.  Everything frustrated me- orchestra, classes, people- everything was like a warped reminder of my former warmth.  I wanted to hold on to the friendships from before without adding new ones, and I was afraid that my friends would find new friends that were better than I could ever be, leaving me alone.  

Everything ends.  I have "issues" with that.  I don't want people to die, to move, to break up with their boyfriends or girlfriends, to grow up, to get old, to behave differently.  Everything is moving so fast, and I'm just sitting in my kayak watching the rapids take everyone away.  I'm too afraid to join- too afraid I'll sink, that I'll get caught, that the changes will be for the worse.  But I can't go upstream.  Gatsby tried that, and failed.  It's time to stop moping and find joy in what I do have, rather than comparing it to what I once had.  Because this too will end, as will I, and you, and everything.  

Listening to: Sigur Ros' agaetis byrjun.