Our Impossible Soul

Most times, men don't get it.  They don't understand why women have this fragility, this fear about sex, their bodies, and being violated.  Sometimes, it's because we can't really express the things that have happened in our past.  Sometimes, it just an innate fear bred in us from our parents, or our backgrounds, or our religion.  It'd be nice if all women felt comfortable enough with their bodies to the point where sex and intimacy were not scary things.  But it turns out that many women feel this way (not just me!).  Sometimes I forget about this possibility, since I always imagine the insecurities that I feel are just my problems.  How did this whole thought process come about, you may ask?
    Well, my friend Tony asked me why I don't really date people.  And after a very long winded story detailing various negative experiences, he was like "whoah! I'm so sorry that these things happened to you.  But you still like men?  We're not all bad."  And I was beginning to realize (or at least think) that some of my reticence to date anyone was rooted in all of the negative experiences I had both in my freshman year incidents, and with my awful high school pseudo-boyfriend.  I've also noticed in the last year that I keep losing weight, but I'm not trying particularly hard.  if anything, I'm drinking more, which is in no way calorically beneficial.
       While I don't recommend making deep life decisions based on Oprah's O magazine (which I catch up on every year when I go to my grandma's house, where there is a stack of them), I came to this conclusion, thanks to the middle-aged women running O: My extra weight, basic tee shirt attire, and general shyness about appearance has all been a shield to prevent unwanted male affections.  The magazine suggested that one's extra weight can be like a shield, a wall, to the outside world, and in my case, quite possibly to the perpetrators of my sexual assault.  In the last two years, I've become more confident, both as a musician, and as a person. Living in Rochester made me feel like I could deal with anything, whether in terms of violence against women (crazy people living in Rochester!) or in terms of interpersonal relationships.  And I've been breaking down that wall so to speak (a woman cutting her hair is in the midst of a great personal change!).  For much of my undergrad, I was afraid to both be pursued romantically, and to actually have it happen.  I never really equated my fears with the sexual assault, mostly because I was just desperately trying to block it out of my head.  Strangely, I was never attracted to women, which for many people, would be an obvious result.  Despite the array of strange male experiences that I've had (especially the one where I was 3 or 4, and an older boy exposed himself in the kiddy pool, and then kissed me.  Ugh.  I just remembered he asked me to touch him, which I refused, and I never liked him because he always ate tuna for lunch and smelled suspectly.), I guess I've always believed that men are not altogether bad.  I've just run into a few bad ones.  Anyway, I think that my appearance has changed, accidentally, to reflect the internal changes that have occurred, and my growing confidence in most areas of my life.
     But to tie this anachronistic thread together, let me put in this point-the female sexual experience is very complicated, and women have a lot of baggage with sex.  I think it is absolutely possible to get over those issues, whether within a relationship, or just within oneself, but it is definitely an issue that is often glossed over.  Just last week, one of my friend's boyfriends was getting frustrated with her because she doesn't want to have sex as often as he does, and it's just such a male stereotype.  The man wants more sex, and the woman withholds.  But she's not doing it on purpose, it's more that she has a fair amount of reticence towards sex itself, towards her body, and towards the cultural and religious implications of sex.  It's crazy-or the women from more conservative backgrounds who have a terrifying fear of masturbation and vibrators, because our culture doesn't really include that viewpoint.  Yes, Sex and the City did great wonders for woman and sex, but it doesn't mean that we're encouraged to buy vibrators and go have an orgasm by ourselves.  There's still a lot of work to be done in that realm, both culturally and within our groups of friends, and despite the fact that most of my female friends are in their twenties, many of us still have sexual hangups or a fear of sex.  And it's not our fault-we're the product of our ages, our religions, our families, and the cultural expectation for sex is constantly changing, and we're not ready for it yet.  We can just do what we can, within ourselves, and hope for men to be patient with us, because it's our body, not theirs.

The Hood Internet - No One Womanizes Like You (Britney Spears x Department of Eagles) by hoodinternet

Listening to: the Hood Internet, Sufjan Stevens, Robyn, and Discovery

The Things We Lost

There were three situations yesterday that, when combined, reminded me that being a girl/lady/female, can be challenging.

Situation 1: One of my friends was creepily stalked at an unnamed Ohio rest stop, and realized how creepy predators are.

Situation 2: I went to a 6 hour bluegrass marathon (not entirely by choice, since we can safely say that's not really my scene) and almost all of the bands were all male. Out of 5 groups, each with 5 members or more, there were only 3 women there, out of 25. It was a reminder of all of the challenges that face women in music, especially in male dominated genres.

Situation 3: I watched the movie, "The Lovely Bones," which is based on one of my favorite books by Alice Sebold. Obviously, the movie was flawed and by no means perfect, but it still got the main issues across: an innocent 14 year old girl is raped and murdered in 1973 in the middle of suburban PA. She narrates the story, watching down on her family's suffering and slow recovery from her death. The book is way better, but the movie managed to still make an impact on me. I cried when Susie Salmon can't escape from her killer, even though I've known she was going to die for 6 years since I first read the book. My heartbeat went out of control when her sister breaks into her killers house, and finds evidence that he killed Susie. And in the end, Susie meets all of the other girls that were murdered by the same man, and I cried the most, knowing that there are serial killers, rapists, and criminals who have no guilt about kidnapping children, and killing them.

Most women I know have had some sort of brush with sexism, sexually inappropriate conversation, or harassment. Some have dealt with much worse things than I have, and others much less. But in the end, we all deal with something, either through our own lives, our friends', or worse, our children's. I would hardly say that my brush with these issues has been significant-I've known people who were sexually abused by their family, or date-raped, both situations which are far more grave and troubling. But I have still had my own experiences, both of which unfortunately occurred within the first few months of college, back in 2004.

The first event was at the 2004 election, in which Kerry, a Boston favorite, ran against GWB, and subsequently lost. In Boston, there was a huge rally/viewing/festive gathering in Copley square, and one of my newish friends wanted to go. A few top 40 music stars were going to perform (Bon Jovi, Sheryl Crow, The Black-Eyed Peas) and it was free. It sounded pretty harmless, even if it was raining a bit. We walked to the square, and got in line- we could see the concert, but there was an inner sanctum that you had to be let into by the police/guards. We waited around for a while, like sardines in a container, being pushed and shoved, but mostly left to our own devices. After an hour or so, we got close to the divider between the crowd at large, and the close-up concert area. We were in the front row, next to each other, and people were so close to us, that we paid them no notice. Sadly, in the dark confines of the square, a young man, probably still in college, began to grope me. He was much bigger than I was, probably 6'2 or 6'3, and by the time I knew what was happening, he was breathing down my neck and rubbing my back. I kept trying to shake him off, but there was nowhere to go. My friend was talking to someone next to her, and I in turn, had no way of letting her know what was going on, since I was effectively immobilized. He never dared to touch the front of my body, because that would have revealed himself to the others. But his body was right behind mine, and I could feel (unfortunately, one of the worst things ever) him rubbing his groin area all along my lower back. He was clothed, but it was an awful experience nonetheless, to be a recipient of an unwanted dry-hump in public, with thousands of people surrounding me, not seeing. I suppose to other people, it looked like I knew him, even though I kept trying to elbow him in the midsection. I remember stepping on his feet, and elbowing him, and him just laughing, and his friends laughing. It was pretty tragic at the time, simply because I was crying, and had no escape. I couldn't move anywhere, forwards or sideways, and I didn't know what to do, since I could see no exit from the situation. It wasn't my friend's fault, she talked to me while it was happening, but she couldn't see what was happening in the pitch black dark-everyone was so close, that it probably just looked like he was a bit close. I couldn't tell her what was happening, I was too afraid. While he was breathing down my neck and pushing my shoulder blades together, I was fearful that he might even have a weapon, or that if I told someone, something much much worse would happen.

After about ten or fifteen minutes, the line finally moved, and my friend and I were let into the inner sanctum. As soon as we were let in, I moved as far away from the entrance as possible, and I was a bit of a killjoy for the rest of the evening. My friend was so excited about supporting Kerry and getting rid of GWB that I didn't have the heart to tell her what had just happened. I know I should've told her, but I never did.

I never saw their faces, but I have always imagined what he and his friends looked like: large jocks, used to sleeping with lots of women, never thinking twice about their actions. That's probably one of many reasons that I'm slightly terrified of overly muscular men-it reminds me of a certain personality, a certain flagrant disregard for other people in most situations. If something like that happened now, I would probably defend my territory much more than I did then. But then again, I had just turned 18, and I had spent all of high school being melancholy and mopey. I wasn't exactly prepared to defend my rights as a woman, or to demand that justice be served. I was being preyed upon, because I was young, innocent, and afraid. It's amazing what fear can do to you, how irrational and paranoid it can make you. It was an awful experience, and barely holds a candle to some of the more awful things that happen to women in this world.

The second unfortunate experience, which was entirely unexpected, occurred on a brisk afternoon in December, (brisk by California standards) in which I was walking home from the post office, approximately 10 minutes away. I was walking on a fairly busy street, and a sketchy man on a bike began following me. He asked me directions for a street, and I told him to go straight and turn left. I watched him as he turned right on a residential street in my neighborhood, and I paid him no mind. I turned right on my street when I got to it, and proceeded walking towards my house. I heard the sound of a bike behind me on the street, and I saw the same man, wearing glasses, with scraggly facial hair, and dark clothes. He pulled up next to me, showed me his penis, and asked me if I would suck him. I remember thinking that I wouldn't let the first experience happen again, and I reached into my bag and began feeling for my cell phone. I told him, with a tremor in my voice, that I would report him to the cops and to leave me alone. I was in much less danger this time, simply because I was on a street with houses, even if no one was outside, and I knew that I was only a three minute walk from home. I watched him pull up his pants, and turn left on a side street, as I walked as fast as I could home. I remember looking back every few seconds, in fear that he would be there, and that I would have no power to do anything, but I made it. I ran up to my house, tremulously unlocked the door, and began crying. No one was home of course, since it was a weekday, and I ended up sitting on my living room rug holding my dog, while I cried. I remember trying to call my dad at work, but I didn't want to leave a message. I called the cops, and tried to explain the situation, but it was difficult to explain, and they didn't really pay my call much notice. I left a panicked message on my friend's cell phone (she lived in Missouri) since I had no one to call, and I just sat in my house, shaking from the encounter.

I never told my parents about either of these things. I never had the courage to do that, and I never wanted to make them worry more than they already did. It was bad enough that I went to college 3,000 miles away, but to have been a victim of a crime while there would have been awful for them. This was the time when I knew I needed to transfer schools-my viola teacher was being awful, and was gossiping about me to other students, and I was worried that I wouldn't find a new teacher to study with or school to attend. My parents were already worried about me, most of the time, and I never found the courage to tell them what really happened. I had dreams about both of these situations for months long after they happened. My friends were very supportive and understanding-I only told two or three of my closest friends. I didn't think the encounters were worth discussing, but in hindsight, they were awful experiences. The feelings of absolute fear and terror were awful, and I would never wish those upon anyone else. In that way, I still believe that no matter the strides our world has made politically and socially, there are still significant crimes against women, children, homosexuals, and others. We must stand up for others' rights whenever possible, and show kindness to those in need. No one deserves to live in such fear, even if for a moment.

"I wish you all a long and happy life."-Susie from "the lovely bones"

Women at the Helm

This has been an awesome week for women musicians, at least in the Kayleigh files. On Wednesday, I had the good fortune to see St. Vincent play with Andrew Bird, and it really made my heart clap to see Annie Clark lead a group of boy-men in a band. I think it's somewhat rare to see the "Blondie" model of things, with a female lead singer, but what makes St. Vincent better is that she actually shreds the guitar. No folks, there's no lead guitarist, it's just her. So it's even better than a female led band, because she does two things. And her songs are awesome.

This is an oldie, but a goodie. (Oh, and did I mention that she's gorgeous???? Nothing's more awesome than a beautiful, feminine lady SHREDDING a guitar and having lovely vocals. Seriously. Just check out My Brightest Diamond or Shara Worden).

In the classical realm, I was delighted to see the Pacifica Quartet yesterday, after a very successful year for them, what with the Grammy and whatnot. And it made me super happy to see their first violinist, the only lady in the group, rule. They played Mozart Dissonance Quartet and Janacek's "Intimate Letters" quartet, the latter of which has always been a favorite of mine. It was awesome to see two amazing ladies rule the roost, musically speaking, and it gave me courage that there are women out there fighting the noble battle. Rock on!

Gender, Music, and Me.

(I started writing this a few weeks ago, and I never really decided where to go with it after the first round, so I'm putting it here, just in case anyone feels a need to read.)

I suppose I should preface this all by saying that I grew up in a relatively sexism-free environment. I'm from Southern California, I don't subscribe to a religion, and the best students in my high school were mostly girls. My mother has always worked, and she's definitely the power figure over my dad. I guess my mother would qualify as a feminist- by setting a good example rather than fighting for causes. She has always been pro-gay people, against wimpy women, and all for women in the workforce. Growing up, my mom wouldn't allow me to have Barbies, and my toys were a combination of "boy" and "girl" toys. (American Girls, racetrack for cars, a pirate ship...etc.) So, I'm quite different from other Jucispeakers {Jucispeak is a blog promoting women's issues, tolerance, love, etc.} in the environment that I am used to. I frankly never experienced much of any sexism growing up, at least towards myself or peers, and I knew it existed, but it never really affected me directly except in classroom situations when I was arguing for Emily Dickinson's bold poetry or how Othello's fears are a product of gender bias. Until now.

This year, I have really become more aware of the issues facing women in society, whether in music, arts, politics, or other fields. I realized that my teacher was the only full-time tenured female string faculty at Eastman. I was informed that the results of my auditions may have been due to sexism, according to certain adjudicators voting for me. I have experienced a conductor who is so masculine, insensitive, and brutish in his interpretations and treatment of others that I have realized that I am different. As a violist and woman, I have something different to say---and not everyone will listen to what I have to say. And that's sad. So let's proceed.

Most of us classical musicians can safely say that the major part of the classical canon is made of music by dead white men (most of whom were heterosexual). Classical music has long discriminated against race, gender, and sexuality, and today is no exception. Historically, orchestras were all male endeavors, compositions were by men (since women couldn't get published or be respected by their peers), solo performers were male, and even now, it is rare to see a successful female conductor (aside from Marin Alsop). Fortunately, many female composers have been recognized for their prowess in the last 40 years, but that is only 40 years out of hundreds of years of classical music! Women have been composing, performing, and creating since the beginning of time- they just aren't always remembered in history. Maddalena Casulana has a book of her madrigals published in the 1560's- the first instance of a women composer's works being published. Does anyone teach this? Nope. (I just took a whole semester of the Renaissance, and women's music was maybe discussed for 5 minutes) How many music textbooks (theoretical or historical) refer to women's works? Well, my copy of the Grout certainly doesn't do much, nor does Alex Ross' newish book "The Rest is Noise." Aside from Hildegard von Bingen, how many other women composers pre-1800 can anyone name? Probably not many. Barbara Strozzi? Rarely mentioned in Renaissance books. Do any books actually make a point of the MUSIC of Clara Schumann rather than her illustrious relationship with Brahms? Not many. Women throughout the ages have been slighted by history; scores of them: Fanny Mendelssohn, Ruth Crawford Seeger, Ellen Zwilich, Rebecca Clarke (whom most people only know for her viola sonata). When these women make works of art that are notable, HIStory (Aka. the past as remembered by males) is not fair to them. If classical music as a field has been mostly male dominated, the same is true of music scholarship, such as music theory and music history. When all aspects of classical music have been largely controlled by males, it's really no longer that there has been some gender issues over the years.

Today, orchestras are mostly equitable in their treatment of gender. But in the early half of the century, when women were graduating from music school, there were few, if any, orchestras that would accept them. Instead, "Women's Orchestras" were founded, and by the 1940's, there were 30 women's orchestras in the US. However, like other fields of work, WWII called away many men, and orchestras were now desperate to fill those positions, thus resulting in gender integration in professional orchestras. While women have been accepted as performers, teachers, and orchestral musicians, women are still fighting for recognition as conductors and composers. Most of these conductors and composers were trained exclusively by men, and had to forge their ways into male-dominated fields with support and mentorship of other women. Ultimately, when men have been in power, it has been extremely difficult for women to be treated equally in all aspects of music. My teacher has told me stories of sexism, even in the 1990's at Juilliard, when most of the faculty was male, and I have seen how Eastman is a conservative, mostly male-led institution. So what can we do as women musicians? Good question.

The first step is to acknowledge that women are still discriminated against, even if it is more subtle than in the not-so-distant past. If an all-female chamber group wears clothing that is sexy, how are they using that image? Is it helping or hurting the cause for women? At the same point, do women have to dress in an androgynous fashion to be taken seriously? I don't know the answer. I think the answer is to be thoughtful of all possible consequences in such a situation. Women have the power to be sexy, but don't have to dress scantily to prove that they are women. I must admit that I am always bothered a little when I see a classical album that has T+A appeal. In a genre where sound counts so much more than image, it is sad to see women using that as a way to boost fame and success. At the same time, a sexy album cover can also dull the musical value of the artist's work, which is also unfortunate. (Think of the publicity photos for the Eroica Trio and the Ahn trio as compared to other all-female groups, like the Lark Quartet). Aside from images, it is our job as performers and musicians to push for other women, whether in music history, popular music, conducting, or in regular life. By being aware of discrimination, I think we can eventually reach a fairer treatment and equality for women in classical music.

"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.

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*.

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.