Returning from Quebec

What began as a musical trip that I was somewhat dreading ended up becoming a pretty great 2.5 weeks. Granted, I was really excited to be back in a country where I understand the language, and the daily meal does not involve pastries, but overall, my Domaine Forget trip served it's purpose. I left the ROC somewhat unenthusiastically, mostly because everyone else was still at school, graduating, moving, and spending time together, and I was signing up for 10 hours in a car to get to play the obscure Beethoven Quartets for two weeks.

It was really difficult the first week at Domaine-the location was beautiful and all of that, but I hadn't really practiced viola since my recital, and I was in one of those places where I wasn't sure I'd ever want to practice again. (I have since regained that desire, in the last week.) But initially, it was awful. I've always had a bit of a complex playing in quartets, simply because I have done it so rarely. I'm fairly inexperienced in that department, at least in relation to my other musical skills, and I always feel timid and stupid when I'm starting to play in a new group of people. So between the combined efforts of Ludwig Van, my own insecurities, and my lack of enthusiasm about classical music as an art form, the first week kinda sucked, not to mention the fact that most people were from Canada, and were a bit cliquey and that's stupid.

However, music seemed to work it's magic, or I was allured by the prospect of performing enough to get it together. As most of my closer colleagues and friends know, I rather enjoy performing. Not because I play perfectly, or anything like that, but because I love the adrenaline rush, and the feeling of connection with the audience. On a good day, a performance is like a continuum of energy between me and other people, and I feel this amazing rush of sound, feeling, and vibrancy through my body. The allure of that got me pretty excited about our quartet concerts, not to mention the fact that we were playing in a great hall, with good audiences. Once we got to Quebec city, I felt a lot better about my playing, as both a chamber musician, and as a violist. I knew that I wasn't the worst or best violist there, nor was I in the best or worst groups, and I just sort of embraced my groups for what they were and what Beethoven wrote. I am always amazed at how I can go into a zone of concentration and appreciation for pieces that I would never choose to listen to or play (Harold In Italy, Hoffmeister, 18/3...) and it was great. I listened to most of the Beethoven cycle in concert, since we were performing all 16 of them, and I had a pretty great time doing it. I still would rather have been to a contemporary quartet program, or at least a situation with a more diverse repertoire selection, but at the end of the day on Friday, it was amazing to realize that one dead white man wrote the diversity of repertoire that is known as the 16 string quartets. To know that a person can have so much diversity of emotion and expression is amazing, and it's difficult not to admire it, for what it is. It was also necessary for me to realize, once again, that I personally do have a knack for playing the viola, and it may not be a talent that lends itself to an epic musical career, but I do actually enjoy making music, and I forgot that for a while back there. It doesn't mean that I don't want to be in a band, or that I don't want to make green tea chocolate cupcakes as a part-time job-I definitely do. But no matter how I try, I can't erase this classical side of me, even if I want to. I've spent almost 18 years studying it, and it's as much a part of me as my arms or my feet. I needed to remember that, and for that, I am grateful.

Listening to: Florence and the machine

Selfish Exposure of Joy

I had a wonderful day today.  I was able to practice for (count 'em) 3 whole hours!  Boo-yah!  No pain!  Since my return to the ROC, I've been having some discomfort in my paw, probably because I took those 4 days off, and apparently illness invited itself back in.  But all is well today!

I went on a delightful walk with Futaba, ate at Orange Glory, bought some dried lavender (for lavender shortbread with lemon glaze and lavender tea), went to the South Wedge Farmer's Market (where I flirted with the chap selling me leafy greens.  He said I should really reconsider my hatred of cucumbers.  Suggestive mayhaps?), then got some delicious quiche at the farmer's market, and taught, and then got some sweet CD's at the gates library, where i saw some LIVE deer (which is a rarity here).  Oh, and I discovered the joy of NPR: All Songs Considered.  I listened to Thom Yorke's DJ bit, and I almost cried because I love Thom Yorke with an irrational inexplicable passion.  And my heart clapped listening to an old recording of Colin Meloy Live from 3 years ago.  So yes, I am a dork.  But I will am grateful for the time that is now and the magic that has unfolded in my dusty, cobwebby life.

listening to: NPR! and I'll eventually get around to the new Andrew Bird album, which I got from the lib's.

On Winning and Losing

I played amazingly on Monday.  I actually owned Hoffmeister in a way that I never thought possible.  I fixed so many things from Saturday to Monday that I shocked my teacher- she called it a miracle.  What's the catch?  Oh, I didn't win.  In fact, a freshman won, a point that has been very controversial since the competition.  While I do wish the outcome had been different, I came to the following conclusions:

1) I played amazingly.  Normally, when you lose something, you say, "ugh.  I played ok/bad/decent BUT...(fill in the blank)."  But on Monday, there were no "but" moments.  I really made a huge leap for myself and my performing abilities.  In any competing situation, whether it be job or performance based, you can only control your part of the deal, not the outcome.  And I controlled my part, and did beautifully.

2) My teacher was exceedingly happy with my performance.  I won't go into juicy details, but let's say that she was surprised and thought that my performance was exceptional.  Honestly, her opinion matters a lot to me.

3) One of the judges is the unsavory orchestra conductor.  'nuff said.

4) If I had won, it might have splintered my friendship with Kyle, and that would've been silly.  And if Kyle had won, the same would have been true.  This way, we are both equals.

5) It helps to keep the ego intact and not get out of control when one is put in this sort of situation.

6) Suffering is inevitable, and this is an example of that.  And that's ok.

7) I received really supportive amazing feedback from friends and fellow competition attendees, and that has been so valuable and reassuring for me.

8) A competition is in effect a competition with one's self.  And if that's the case, then I won- by a wide margin of error.  And that's something to be proud of.

It made me so grateful for my progress, my abilities, and my friends, who were able to support me and commend me on my playing.  To have someone say that they cried when I lost is perhaps the most touching of all.  I can't think of when I've made someone cry through my music.

On the day of the competition, I meditated, did yoga, and read, in addition to a little practicing, and clearly that paid off.  I am so honored that people think so highly of me, and I only hope that I can live up to others expectations of me, while also living up to my own.  

Happiness is always here- we just are often unable to perceive it.  

Listening to: Sigur Ros "Hvarf-Heim" (as well as a bunch of dharma talks)