I need something mindless to do while I listen to music. Because this year I'm really taking advantage of having access to tons of music via my dorm's network. It's great.
Today's been kind of crazy. I had a Core 250 exam this morning. It's interesting to see how various people prepare for Core. Have I talked about Core? I'm sure I have... It's a series of 3 required classes that you must take in order to graduate regardless of your major. Well, there are some exceptions but not many. Core 150 is kind of an "intro to the Christian faith" writ large... Actually, even after passing it I'm still not quite sure what the unifying theme of it is. It's a little bit of theology, some history, cultural studies... I dunno. Right now I'm in Core 250, which is straight philosophy and it's amazing. We've just finished a unit on Plato, Aristotle, the Sophists, Augustine, and Aquinas. Which, you may imagine, would be kind of overwhelming if you'd never heard of these people before. So some people were really freaking out and having all-nighters and some people barely studied. I'd say I fall into the tertium quid.
Anyhow, in addition to the first Core exam of the semester, I had a paid gig tonight. I was kind of freaking out about it because there was no way to prepare. It was just a show up and read out of the Real Book type of deal. But, fortunately, my sight-reading has improved tremendously, so I survived. I was really nervous in the hours leading up to it though. After my last class of the day, I basically had to get ready for my gig at 5:30. It complicated matters that I had to use Whitworth's electric keyboard. This required transporting said keyboard and an amp across campus. I don't know how I would have done it without our drummer's help. Since he has to move a whole drum set, he brought a car with a lot of space and could help me lift things. It didn't help that it was raining, so we had to cover the cymbals, amps, and electrical wires while moving them from location to location. It took a long time to set up, and after we had been messing around with this for maybe 45 minutes, the instrumentalists decided to show up. Instrumentalists have it so easy. Although usually I can't complain about the set up part. Although I can complain about the instrument.
The actual gig was Whitworth's "Pirate Night," which is basically an auction that benefits the athletics department. So there were lots of rich people and the atmosphere was really nice. I don't mind getting paid for something like that. It's probably the best job I've ever had, even though my playing was all over the place. I hate keyboards. I could not hear myself through the amp. That makes it kind of difficult.
So we've started an unofficial Jane Austen/period drama club I think. We meet at 10a.m. on Saturdays and watch movies such as Pride and Prejudice (the miniseries), Emma, Sense and Sensibility, I think North and South is on the list... It's a good time. Recently we've provided sugary cereal just for fun. You know, the gross stuff that has no nutritional value but reminds you of childhood? It's amazing.
So, part of my so far amazing weekend is the fact that the Magic Lantern had its grand reopening. Originally a small theater for what I'll refer to, for lack of a better name, indie films in the 1970's, the Magic Lantern has returned to provide us with things that Hollywood blockbusters just can't. For me, this means foreign films.
Don't ask me where my spontaneous interest in film, or foreign film, has come from. All I know is I was inspired to take a foreign film class this semester which so far has been amazing. So I was excited to learn about the Magic Lantern because so often I hear about cool films that I will never see because Spokane is so small. I guess it's the fact that I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm always missing out on something. America is not obviously the only place that has films, or music, or art of merit. And I know that there are about a billion amazing live performances in bigger cities that blow Spocompton out of the water.
But now that the world is shrinking so rapidly, we have both the exhilarating and the terrifying opportunity to virtually see it all. For someone like me, this kind of a chance is almost suicide. Because I'm the type of person who WANTS to see it all. To not miss anything because our time here is limited, and while heaven will be infinitely better, think of all the things I could learn in the meantime! It's silly I know. And yet it's not. It could be a philosophy if I just refined it a little more. There is good solid sense in there somewhere. At the same time there is the danger of taking it too far. Of becoming so obsessed with consumption and all the experiences life has to offer that I miss the important stuff. While I'm glued to YouTube watching old jazz performances, or going to the movies, or the theater, or even a concert like the symphony I'm missing out on life. On people. Not things. Real people. Real relationships. On a real God. Art is supposed to be there to enhance life. To add meaning to it. To help us understand it. Not to replace it. And I think finding a balance in our consumption of not just entertainment but EVEN ART is increasingly becoming the challenge of this era. In my opinion we've probably already crossed the line. I've probably already crossed the line. Idolatry is alive and well...
That's kind of depressing. I could go on. But that random rant was not what this post was originally for. Through circumstances I will probably expound on later, I found myself at the opening of the Magic Lantern buying tickets for Katrina and I to see "La Vie en Rose," a French film that roughly translates to "Life Through Rose-Colored Glasses."
The film follows the life of French singer Edith Piaf. I had never even heard the name Edith Piaf before seeing this film. I had no idea what it was about. All I knew is my film prof recommended it and Katrina wanted to see it like most people want to pass final exams. Anyhow, I didn't know what I was getting into. But it was good. It was very good. Edith Piaf was an ICON in France in the early to mid 1900's. Like Frank Sinatra or Elvis is here. I'd never heard of her, yet the minute that soundtrack started playing I found the music to be extremely familiar. I had never heard half the songs before, and I'm sure I'd never heard her sing before (the score utilized actual recordings of her), but I'd heard her influence on the world of music.
The trailer makes it look like just an ordinary "biopic." But the way Olivier Dahan directs this makes it more consequential than the slough of similar pictures that have flooded American screens. Films like Ray, De-Lovely, whatever that one on the Temptations was called... Part of it is because Edith Piaf had one of the craziest lives in human existence. Born on the streets, shuffled from her alcoholic maternal grandparents to her grandmother who worked as a cook in a brothel to life with her father who was a wandering contortionist. She sang on the streets until she was discovered and put to work on the cabaret stage and later became well, almost world-famous. Yeah. Insane. I'd say the fact that she was pretty emotionally unstable is pretty understandable. She had too many love affairs for me to count. I'm not sure if she was married once or twice. She had a daughter early in life, but wasn't a very good mother to her (hmmm, wonder why) and later lost her to some sort of illness. She lost the love of her life in a plane crash (who was, by the way, married with three children). She was a chronic alcoholic AND, after being prescribed morphine after a car accident, she became dependent on it requiring 10 shots a day. This led understandably to health problems and her premature death at the age of 47. Yikes, to say the least.
The scary thing is I know almost none of this from the movie. Most of it was gleaned from my own research after I was back in my room. Because the movie doesn't move chronologically. It unfolds as a series of sequences that span from childhood to the day of her death in no apparent order. It's impossible to understand what's happening sometimes. And of course creative license was taken in places. And yet, the conglomeration created a cohesive whole. Because it presented the whole person. At once. In her death scene, at the end of the movie, we don't see just some old woman dying. We see the young child, the 20-year-old, the rat on the streets, the revered artist, all dying at once. It's hard to explain, but it's extremely emotional.
The movie is not flawless, although surprisingly clean considering its subject matter. Not clean. Just surprisingly cleaner than you'd expect. There are some overly-sentimental scenes. Some contrived. And one, in which St. Therese speaks to her out of a poorly-animated swirl of flame, that reminded me more of Disney than of French sophistication. If I was into French, or France, or had lots of money I might consider buying it. But as it is, it's not a favorite. But I am really glad I saw it.
What touched me about it was seeing this amazing woman, and what she became, and where she came from. It really makes one think about how childhood shapes us for the rest of our lives. How some people can rise above their beginnings, and yet everyone is ultimately fettered in some way by their upbringing. Another striking theme for me was her devotion to St. Therese. Whether she really was so devoted or not, I can hardly call the devotion "Christian," as I define it (and don't make snarky comments Karen, I doubt you'd agree with anyone who said a saint had sent them a married man in order to be their lover...) And yet it really reminded me, starkly, of the power, the draw, that Christ and our faith has on those who are desperate. No matter how many missions, food banks, or shelters we set up I don't think we will ever respond to this need enough. I don't think we will ever fully know the power Christ has to change lives. It's beyond our sinful comprehension in a way that's simultaneously saddening and wonderful. If anyone is confused by this, I'd love to discuss it further. I think it was the three things I've mentioned: her life/death and how it was presented, her upbringing and how it affected her, and my own inserted reminder of my commission as a Christian that really, really made me appreciate this film.
So I'd love it if you'd listen to the three songs I've put on my playlist and remember that it's not just some random French lady singing in a language you can't understand and rolling her R's a lot. It's Edith Piaf. Musically, I think she was superb. Crap it's 10:00 and I need to practice.
I've realized now that my failure to post anything about The Weekend Retreat has been a severe misjudgment on my part.
What is the Weekend? It's something that the chapel puts on every year mostly for the benefit of lost little freshmen or just for upperclassmen who don't want to admit they're upperclassmen. It's a way to get to know people, get away from campus and homework and stress and just have some fun and Christian fellowship. And so last Friday evening after almost missing the bus (I had to get a sleeping bag from my dad) I found myself on my way to Riverview Bible Camp, which just so happens to be a camp I stayed at when I was little. In fact, we ended up staying in the same cabin as I did the last time I'd been there. I was with a great group of girls. We all got along really well even though we were all super different.
Whitworth always brings in a speaker of some sort for this and we have a series of what I guess you'd call "mini" chapels. Hosanna, Whitworth's worship team, did a great job leading worship (although I'm biased because I know half of them) and then we'd have a small church service. This year's speaker was Mosos Pulei, who is a new professor in the theology department. Here's the thing, he grew up in a Maasai tribe in Kenya. !!!. He went to Whitworth as a student through support from World Vision, and then after doing some work in Kenya he went to graduate school and I think Princeton seminary. I think that sounds right. But he grew up in a Maasai tribe! He had some crazy stories. He killed a leopard with a spear when he was a teenager!!! A leopard! And I guess his parents arranged a marriage for him while he was at Whitworth with a 13-year-old or something. When he came back home after 2 years, they expected him to get married. Instead, he was able to adopt her as his sister (it's a Maasai thing). So it was cool just to hear him talk about his life.
Besides that pretty much nobody got any studying done. I enjoyed an awesome game of basketball and frisbee, and went down Riverview's ginormous slide a couple six times, and watched my friends make fools out of themselves at the "dance" party... And I also watched my friends run around with plastic geese on their heads.
Okay, that one takes some explaining. We were having a cabin discussion outside when someone said "are those fake geese?" I was wondering what made a goose inauthentic as opposed to "real" when I saw that they meant some like lawn-ornament type hollow geese that were sitting a few yards from us. Do not ask me where they came from. Do not ask me what they were for. I do not know. I just know we had way to much fun with them. One of the girls put one on her head and terrorized the boys. We took three of them to our cabin and named them Duck, Duck, and Maverick. We took lots of pictures. Here is one.
Anyhow, it's kind of hard to explain. My roommate got a video of the girl sneaking up on the praying boys whilst wearing the above goose, but we have not yet got it on the internet. Anyhow, it hardly needs to be said that we had way too much fun and were very sad to get back to the real world when we did. This weekend is turning out to be similarly amazing and I will have to post about. It's good to have crazy fun times.
Saga had a lot of professors in it today. Yoder was there. So was President B-Rob. And of course Dr. K. I've always been envious of the science majors because they get to eat lunch with Kamesh Sankaran, who is affectionately known as "The Rocket Scientist," or Dr. K.
The man is a fixture at campus dining services. Or anywhere else. He makes a point of eating with students, talking with students, asking names, opinions, and challenging critical thinking skills. It's always been a farfetched goal of mine to have lunch with two persons. Bill Robinson (he also scouts saga for unsuspecting students sometimes) and The Rocket Scienctist. I mean, anyone who VOLUNTARILY eats at saga on his own buck has got to be committed to a cause. Alas, I am not ever anywhere near the science building except for film class so my chances of dining with the immaculately dressed Dr. K have always been slim (the man wears a full suit and tie every day, which is unusual as most Whitworth profs prefer the sweatervest-and-clashing-shirt look).
But luck would have it that my freshman friend Elizabeth knows a couple of science kids, who were eating lunch with us today, and who should sit at our table but the elusive Dr. K. And so one more thing was checked off my "experiences to have before I graduate" list.
We talked about Christianity and evaluating speakers that come to campus and things. Well, he asked questions and I watched the freshmen stagger through them, trying to feel smug while confusedly sorting out what this guy was really getting at. The fact that I had been to neither of the lectures they were referencing didn't help (although in this case I can honestly say that the excuse of "I can't, I have rehearsal" was legit). All in all, I enjoyed it a lot and left early for some procrastinated homework leaving behind three intrigued freshmen and one of the coolest professors on campus.
Whitworth has started a new program called "Dine with a Mind," where students can ask professors to come share in a delicious meal of saga food. It's cool. I would do it. If it wasn't so inherently awkward. "Um, excuse me Dr. Person-who's-really-busy-and-is-probably-fawned-on-by-students-all-day, would you have dinner with me? Maybe a short movie afterwards? We can talk about Plato's allegory of the cave..." It's just not the kind of thing I would do. Yet there are several professors on my list that I would love to sit down with and say "what do you think about X?" And the mere fact that I have the opportunity to do this makes me love Whitworth more than ever. Long live college. Now if I could just get B-Rob's number...
Allow me to be super-elated here for a moment and say: I MADE JAZZ COMBO 1! Or something like it. The bottom line, is I managed to weasel my way into one of the top jazz combos. AHHHHH!!!!!! As exciting as this is, it's also a lot of pressure and responsibility. But mostly it's exciting. I am going to chain myself to that piano this year. I also, uh, made jazz ensemble 2. Slight problem: I have a conflict. I have night classes on Tuesdays and it meets Tuesday and Thursday nights. So we'll see what happens with that. In the meantime it is time to start seriously hitting that piano, maybe write a few jazz arrangements, do some transcribing... *dances away while screaming hysterically*
So I've been sitting here for half an hour waiting for my amazing roommate to get back from the writing center so she can loan me her laundry card. Because mine only has 25 cents on it. The clothes and detergent are all loaded... I just need fifty more cents or so. Luckily my roommate is a kind, generous and trusting soul who is able to put up with my many crises. Otherwise life would be much more difficult. Like right now for instance. I would be standing in the laundry room, debating whether to ask for the generosity of a complete stranger while hoping that my clothes weren't being defiled by laundry detergent. Laundry detergent isn't really of much use to anybody without water. That's an awkward situation I'd much rather avoid as doing laundry is, in and of itself, awkward enough. Imagine: you're about to wash your undergarments when a guy walks in and decides to use the machine next to you. You're standing there with a pile of embarrassing clothes items. What do you do? Hide? Stuff them all into the machine as quickly as possible? Avoid eye contact? A combination of all three?
Or perhaps A) you need to use a dryer which is full of some guy's boxer shorts... or B) you walk in and some guy is unloading a dryer full of the equivalent of YOUR boxer shorts...!!! or even worse C) you and said guy know each other! All are situations I have for the most part been able to avoid, to my knowledge. But the very thought of them strikes terror into my very soul. I mean, simply another girl examining my unmentionables is bad enough... I STRONGLY DISLIKE LAUNDROMATS AND ALL FORMS OF COMMUNITY LAUNDRY ACTIVITY! In fact the only time I prefer people to observe my clothing is when I'M WEARING IT and this DEFINITELY EXCLUDES UNMENTIONABLES! This would explain why I hate shopping. I can just see myself waiting in line to buy a shirt while the two girls behind me whisper to each other about how hideous it is. Am I paranoid? Yes.
My other fear is that, either I will see someone or vice versa and recognize the clothes they are wearing from when I had to remove their laundry from the dryer. I suppose this shouldn't bother me, but it does. Just think "oh, there's Heidi, wait... I recognize that t-shirt. I've had to pull it out of the dryer like fifty times... She must not own many clothes..." Which is true. My first year of college my closet made it look like I was an ascetic. Some of my clothing this year still has tags on it because I haven't worn it yet.
My lack of clothing and shoes and such is simply proof that somewhere along the line I missed a few crucial lessons in the femininity department. Either that or I refused to attend. Probably the latter. Take make-up for example. Even stage make-up scares me, and I have far more experience with that than with the normal kind. I was out looking for foundation while shopping with my mom and sister and I asked mom how to choose the right tone/shade/whatever. Her response? "I don't know." I love my mother, but sometimes it's no wonder I'm at a loss as far as womanly guidance is concerned. So I try my best and hope I don't embarrass myself too thoroughly although if I do I'm used to it and try to laugh at myself.
I don't think boys truly appreciate the pressures of being female. They assume that fashion sense, color coordination, and the ability to smell nice all come naturally. Like when you're twelve you have an epiphany and think "Aha! Red and purple are not complimentary!" Or in my case, you paint the rocket you made in science class red and purple and your gay friend tells you that they clash. My career as an artist died that day. I still carry the scars.
Yes, I was never cut out to be a girly-girl. You know, the kind that giggle politely instead of laughing obnoxiously, walk gracefully in heels, know how to braid their hair in five different patterns, and actually like the color pink. But does the fact that I don't know what color is currently in style or whether or the fact that I look like a deranged mime whenever I try to apply lipstick necessarily make me unfeminine? Okay, maybe some people would say yes, I'm a freak. And I'd agree. But I'd like to argue that femininity means more than pink and Maybelline just like masculinity is more than football and barbecuing. And I think our culture is seriously confused about exactly what it means to be masculine or feminine. It's like these new "outreach" programs for men. Apparently "men hate going to church." And to remedy this what are we doing? We're adding men's get-togethers that include football and barbecuing. Nothing against all that, but I'm thinking if guys are finding something lacking in the church, football isn't exactly going to fix the problem. There's probably something a little deeper going on there.
So stay tuned as we explore these exciting topics, because the popular cultural definitions of what is masculine and what is feminine have been ticking me off every since I was 12. These superficial definitions are absolutely ridiculous and mean absolutely nothing. Don't tell me what I have to look like, don't tell me what I have to act like, and stay away from my laundry.
Please listen to Tchaikovsky beat. It's amazing. How did I find this musical gem? Well, it all started while driving back from the amazing British tea I had with Karen and friends. Tchaikovsky's Slavonic March was playing on the radio, which just happens to be one of my favorite pieces. So I thought I would add it to my blog. Well, I found one version which is played way too fast. And Tchaikovsky Beat. You're probably listening to it right now and marveling at its... brilliance.
I also have a nice little composition about college life by Relient K, Help! by the Beatles, which pretty much sums up college life, the three best songs by Pink Martini I could find on the internet, Whitworth's unofficial theme song (I'll Make a Man Out of You, trust me, you hear it everywhere), Symphony No. 9 by Dvorak, and Symphony No. 25 by Mozart. Enjoy. I know I am. It's almost midnight. Yay University.
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