I also recommend

I Hate Music! - A cycle of five kid songs for soprano by Leonard Bernstein

I Recommend

Berlioz - Te Deum

This is so great!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Anytime an outcast or underdog makes the world rethink its priorities, it gives me a little bit of hope. Too bad that the only reason people now value Susan Boyle is because of her voice, and not for the fact that old our young, beautiful or ugly, talented or not, all human beings are created in God's image and have intrinsic value. I pray that we would act on this reality, so that the "unacceptables" of society don't have to achieve such (unfortunately) unexpected accomplishments to be considered of any worth.

I fail.

So I pretty much am still the same irresponsible idiot I have always been. Not only am I failing to meet all of my internship requirements, but I'm also failing at jazz lessons and piano accompanying and basic responsibility. Go me. Maybe I won't graduate. That's an interesting future possibility...

Warning: Music Nerd Posts Ahead

Before Howard Shore. Before John Williams. There was...


PROKOFIEV!

It's true. Prokofiev wrote film scores, and it's amazing to see how much he has influenced film scoring today. Prokofiev wrote music in Russia while Stalin was in power, one of the bleakest and bloodiest periods of Russian and world history. Stalin kept tight control on the arts and was very mindful of how they could be used as propaganda. Film was one of his favorite ways of spreading his ideology to the working-class and he wanted the cream of the crop artists to be working for the state to that end. From this we get the film collaborations between Prokofiev and film director Sergei Eisenstein. Yes, before Peter Jackson...

The sample I'm posting here is from "Alexander Nevsky," which tells the story of a knight/saint who helps his people repel a Teutonic invasion. At the time, both Prokofiev and Eisenstein were out of favor with Stalin, and this film was a chance for them to save their good names and perhaps their lives. It is pretty straightforward nationalist propaganda. The evil Teutons are a direct representation of Nazi Germany while parallels are supposed to be drawn between Nevsky and Stalin as the defender of Russia. What's amazing though is how much it resembles contemporary trends in movies, especially in light of the Lord of the Rings. Not only is the music similar, the visual aesthetic is also the same. It's important to note that this is an edited and spliced version placed to a more contemporary recording of Prokofiev's cantata based on his score. Not only was the recording equipment available somewhat primitive, the newness of movie scoring made for a much less sophisticated marriage of music and motion picture, in which Eisenstein spliced in cuts of music as he pleased, making for a very disjointed film. This gets the gist of it though.



Hmmm, seems a lot like several battles from LOTR to me. Not to mention the music. I know Howard Shore admits to using Wagner's Ring Cycle as a basis for his score, but the actual music resembles this much, much more. John Williams also frequently "borrows" from Prokofiev (and several others, Strauch jokingly proposed starting a class entirely focused on composers John Williams "borrows" from). So go listen to some Prokofiev. You really owe it to yourself. His cantata based on Alexander Nevsky is a good start. I can also recommend his Romeo and Juliet. More to follow.

One ring to rule them all?

This at least is true

The world is really messed up.

"Well, duh," you might say. And yes, it is rather obvious. I was once talking with an agnostic acquaintance of mine (as I simultaneously pursue my faith and form relationships with a wider variety of people I am finding that deep relationships with those who don't share my belief in Christ's redeeming power are rewarding but intensely painful) and asked if he would at least agree with me on that. He chuckled and said yes, he did. I'm sure he thought I was rather young and naive to even pose such a question. But you see my point was that, however you explain it, "something is not right."

As I consider my (somewhat limited) options after graduation and as my over-active imagination spins out all the possible paths my life could take, I can only reflect that the world is really messed up for a reason. The reality of human fallibility and sinfulness stares me in the face when I consider what my more selfish ambitions might lead me to, or my ignorance, or my laziness. This isn't even counting those times when I have truly good intentions. You know, those things the path to hell is paved with. Plus there is that huge segment of people who aren't bothered by these implications at all. They unabashedly live for themselves and I guess I can commend them in their honesty, unlike those of us who mask our will to power under aforementioned good intentions.

My point is that, as unpopular as the idea of Total Depravity is, it seems unfortunately accurate. Which is why the message of the redemptive power of Christ is such a powerful one. Popular conceptions of Christianity spit on the doctrine of original sin because it implies condemnation. Yet the need for a Savior is evident. As uncomfortable as I am with the concepts of hell and damnation, something I don't think I'll ever fully wrap my head around, the transformative power of Christ resonates for all of us who would attempt to honor God, follow Christ and serve humanity.

Paper or plastic?

I've always been terrible at decision-making. Ordering at restaurants is always an ordeal. I spend far too long in the cereal aisle of the grocery store contemplating whether I want Toastie-O's or Frosted Fiddlesticks. I even agonize over which sweatshirt I own goes best with which pair of jeans. It's a sweatshirt. It's not supposed to be fashionable. I'M not fashionable. And yet...

So no wonder I'm paralyzed with indecision when faced with actual choices about my future. Because somewhere, at some point, I'm going to have to take the step that puts me on a set direction and that closes off other possibilities by necessity. That's the part I hate. The fact that I could be missing out on something better, or at least something awesome or more enjoyable or more meaningful or that I would be better at etc. by choosing to pursue "X."

There are roughly three different paths I can see as possibilities at this point. I won't go into details. That would get complicated. But each is challenging and daunting in its own way. The frustrating and absolutely terrifying part is that none of them are guarantees. There's no guarantee of getting my foot in the door, there's not guarantee I'll like it if I do, and there's no guarantee I'll be remotely good at it. If ever there was a time for Divine Guidance I'd love a sign in the proverbial desert just about now. I'd be alright with the lilac bush at home bursting into flame and telling me to take off my sneakers and to brush up on my public speaking. But I think God is delighting in the fact that I'm having to make a decision. That's right, you get to make a choice. You can see the implications of each of them. Where do your priorities lie? It's up to you. Then I always imagine him chuckling evilly, which is probably blasphemous. But who knows. Maybe I will get a little more help. I'm trying hard to be patient, obedient and humble in this. I shouldn't worry, and I know it. Some days are better than others.

Part of it is life after college still seems so surreal. I hope some of my daring (for me) ideas become realities. And if so, I hope they turn out to be more exciting than they are in my head. Each life scenario I come up with seems more boring than the last. I do have one hope, but if I wrote about that I'd sound trite. This post is making less and less sense, so I think I'll just quit. I guess my point was that I AM trying to figure it out. I'm NOT just a lazy bum who hasn't made any plans for life after college. I DO have certain, or rather uncertain asperations. And even if I DON'T have a set direction yet I'm working on finding it. And that ought to be good enough. So stop giving me pitying looks. I WANT to work hard. I'm happiest when I'm being productive. I have an impulsive need to prove myself against all odds. I'm angsty and cliche. I need to go to bed.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

St. Patrick's Day - John Mayer (is amazing)

Here comes the cold
Break out the winter clothes
And find a love to call your own
You - enter you
Your cheeks a shade of pink
And the rest of you in powder blue

Who knows what will be
But I'll make you this guarantee

No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time

In the dark, on the phone
You tell me the names of your brothers
And your favorite colors
I'm learning you
And when it snows again
We'll take a walk outside
And search the sky
Like children do
I'll say to you

No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time
And come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my valentine?

And we'll both be safe 'til St. Patrick's Day

We should take a ride tonight around the town
and look around at all the beautiful houses
something in the way that blue lights on a black night
can make you feel more
everybody, it seems to me, just wants to be
just like you and me

No one wants to be alone at Christmas time
Come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my valentine?

And if our always is all that we gave
And we someday take that away
I'll be alright if it was just 'til St. Patrick's Day

Mysteries In Our Modern World

This essay pretty well describes my afternoon. After a very stressful week and with midterms looming on the horizon I've been no mood to buckle down and study. I woke up late today after a much-needed late night of hanging out with friends, but even though I was rested I was in no mood to work. All I really wanted to do was finish "The Dead Man's Knock." When I finished it I noticed this essay on the back and felt vindicated.

The mystery story is the answer of modern times to the problems of modern times.

A few years ago business logged along at an even pace behind a horse and buggy transportation. Radio was unknown, the telephone was only being perfected, mails were slow and businessmen copied their correspondence by placing a letter between sheets of moist blotting paper and screwing down the wheel of a letter press.

Then high pressure hit business. Everything is speeded [sic] up so much today that the great problem is how to relax.

The busy executive can't simply forget his problems. They are too pressing, too urgent and too intimate. The only answer is to find something else which will fully occupy the mind. The ordinary novel simply doesn't have the power, the punch, the action.

That's why the sale of sleeping tablets and of mystery stories have multiplied to astronomical proportions during the last twenty-five years.

It is, of course, a lot better to refresh the mind by giving it something new and interesting to work on than to dull it into oblivion by the use of drugs.

Several years ago I wrote a book dealing with what was at that time a novel adaptation of scientific principle. My publisher, fearing there might be some inaccuracies, asked on of the most noted scientists in the country to check certain pages, and sent him the entire manuscript.

That scientist was "up to his ears" in war work. The letter which he sent was a classic.

He said he had started to read the first page of the manuscript, had become interested, had dropped everything else, and didn't realize the passing of time until two and a half hours later when he finished the last page of the manuscript. Then he turned out the light and had the first uninterrupted, blissful eight hours of repose he had had in years. He awakened the next morning refreshed and eager to tackle the problems which confronted him. The mystery had been exciting enough to drive the problems right out of his mind.

Quite by accident that scientist had learned the secret of perfect mental repose.

Which is why the modern mystery story is selling like hot cakes to the more intelligent class of reader. It is no accident that mystery stories have been in the White House for the last twenty-five years. The "intelligentsia" may speak disparagingly of the mystery, but the best minds in the world are reading them.

~Erle Stanley Gardner

So this definitely gives me the justification I need for my afternoon. I'm not wasting time, I'm finding the "perfect mental repose." Reading that mystery was my way of coping with the constant pressures of my crazy student life. The speeded upness of it all and technology and things. Plus at the end he just strokes my ego by placing me in the company of the best minds in the world. I can see why the marketing department of that publisher decided to use that essay. And I am perfectly willing to use it as an excuse for my liesurely afternoon.

Driving to Canada, or Oregon...

Sometimes, when I'm on my way home, I just want to keep going.

Why Georgia - John Mayer
I am driving up 85 in the
kind of morning that lasts all afternoon
just stuck inside the gloom

Four more exits to my apartment but
I am tempted to keep the car in drive
and leave it all behind

Cause I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life

I rent a room and I fill the spaces with
wood in places to make it feel like home
but all I feel's alone
It might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul

Either way, I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life

So what, so I've got a smile on me
but it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head
Don't believe me
Don't believe me
When I say I've got it down

Everybody is just a stranger but
that's the danger in going my own way
I guess it's the price I have to pay
still "Everything happens for a reason"
is no reason not to ask myself

Am I living it right?

The Little Prince, cont.

So I'm realizing that there is a lot you can say about children's lit. So here goes.

I love the first chapter of the Little Prince because it is such a good example of what divides my closest friends from the rest of my acquaintances. I also love it because if I had ever run across a book of jungle stories when I was six, I'm sure my response would have been similar. Not that I would have drawn a picture resembling a hat, but that I just tend/ed to really get into things like that.

I was also very aware that adults just didn't get it most of the time. And like Peter Pan I was terrified of becoming one of them eventually and losing, I guess you'd call it the freedom to imagine, or create. And I have done my best to resist this ever since, which accounts in part for why I am so weird.

But eventually we do have to grow up and come to grips with the practical and uncomfortable realities of life. We do have to "put away childish things" and emerge from our idyllic fantasy land to the world of uncertainty, confusion, complicated relationships, bills, inconveniences, monotony, routine, stress and responsibility. This picture of adulthood isn't the sunniest, but I think it's pretty accurate and also not entirely a bad thing. I mean, that's how we grow and that's also how we impact the world. Yet it seemed appropriate that, as I'm on the verge of becoming independent, to look back and not completely lose that childlike perspective. But we have to give up some of the wonderful yet impractical pursuits of childhood in order to study geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. We can't all become artists. Some of us must become airplane pilots, which actually is pretty cool as far as adult professions go.

I always assumed that being an adult was equivalent with maturity. But the more I interact in workplaces the more I realize how truly selfish and childlike people can be. I suppose I'm not exempt from this. But as he says "I have seen them at close range...which hasn't much improved my opinion of them." The adult world is crazy and often laughable. All the petty motivations that drive people. Sometimes I just don't know how to respond.

But then there's the pay off. How often have I wished to have such a straightforward litmus test of whether or not someone really has that fundamental understanding of what I find to be beautiful and worthwhile in life. I wish I had a drawing Number One that I could pull out to test people with. And how often have I found myself masking my actual observations and feelings in order to make myself acceptable and reasonable. It's like that section in Jane Eyre where Rochester and Jane randomly start talking about "the men in green" and Mrs. Fairfax is entirely puzzled. There are just certain people you have an affinity with, who understand why stars and jungles and boa constrictors are important, even though it sounds silly to the rest of the world.

The Little Prince

Once when I was six I saw a magnificent picture in a book about the jungle, called True Stories. It showed a boa constrictor swallowing a wild beast. Here is a copy of the picture.In the book it said: "Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing. Afterward they are no longer able to move, and they sleep during the six months of their digestion."

In those days I thought a lot about jungle adventures, and eventually managed to make my first drawing, using a colored pencil. My drawing Number One looked like this:I showed the grown-ups my masterpiece, and I asked them if my drawing scared them.

They answered, "Why be scared of a hat?"

My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. Then I drew the inside of the boa constrictor, so the grown-ups could understand. They always need explanations. My drawing Number Two looked like this:
The grown-ups advised me to put away my drawings of boa constrictors, outside or inside, and apply myself instead to geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. That is why I abandoned, at the age of six, a magnificent career as an artist. I had been discouraged by the failure of my drawing Number One and of my drawing Number Two. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is exhausting for children to have to provide explanations over and over again.

So then I had to choose another career, and I learned to pilot airplanes. I have flown almost everywhere in the world. And, as a matter of fact, geography has been a big help to me. I could tell China from Arizona at first glance, which is very useful if you get lost during the night.

So I have had, in the course of my life, lots of encounters with lots of serious people. I have spent lots of time with grown-ups. I have seen them at close range...which hasn't much improved my opinion of them.

Whenever I encountered a grown-up who seemed to me at all enlightened, I would experiment on him with my drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I wanted to see if he really understood anything. But he would always answer, "That's a hat." Then I wouldn't talk about boa constrictors or jungles or stars. I would put myself on his level and talk about bridge and golf and politics and neckties. And my grown-up was glad to know such a reasonable person.

Mahler - St. Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes

I thought this was fun. Consequently the video of it I found features Thomas Hampson, who is singing at the Lincoln Festival on the 28th... Weird. Anyhow, Mahler then uses this in his 2nd symphony, the 3rd movement of which is found below.



St. Anthony arrives for his Sermon
and finds the church empty.
He goes to the rivers
to preach to the fishes;

They flick their tails,
which glisten in the sunshine.

The carp with roe
have all come here,
their mouths wide open,
listening attentively.

No sermon ever
pleased the carp so.

Sharp-mouthed pike
that are always fighting,
have come here, swimming hurriedly
to hear this pious one;

No sermon ever
pleased the pike so.

Also, those fantastic creatures
that are always fasting -
the stockfish, I mean -
they also appeared for the sermon;

No sermon ever
pleased the stockfish so.

Good eels and sturgeons,
that banquet so elegantly -
even they took the trouble
to hear the sermon:

No sermon ever
pleased the eels so.

Crabs too, and turtles,
usually such slowpokes,
rise quickly from the bottom,
to hear this voice.

No sermon ever
pleased the crabs so.

Big fish, little fish
noble fish, common fish,
all lift their heads
like sentient creatures:

At God's behest
they listen to the sermon.

The sermon having ended,
each turns himself around;
the pikes remain thieves,
the eels, great lovers.

The sermon has pleased them,
but they remain the same as before.

The crabs still walk backwards,
the stockfish stay thin,
the carps still stuff themselves,
the sermon is forgotten!

The sermon has pleased them,
but they remain the same as before.

Internship

So. Just to clarify on how the internship is going thus far, since people seem to be curious. It's nothing earth shattering, but then, I haven't exactly been expecting that. It's funny, because when I tell people I'm interning for the Spokane Symphony, even people who have absolutely no interest in classical music whatsoever, they get very excited. Far more excited than I am. Well, in defense of the ones who have no interest in classical music whatsoever, I think the assumption often is that "internship" with the symphony means I'm "playing" in the symphony. Even music majors don't seem to have a very solid grasp on the fact that the symphony isn't just a group of extreme music nerds but a non-profit arts organization, the biggest in Spokane if I remember correctly, and like any organization a large part of what actually happens goes on behind the scenes. The musicians don't just magically organize rehearsals with guest artists and appear on stage autonomously.

So, everyone gets really excited and then asks "so, what will you do?" *blink* It seems somewhat illogical to me to be really excited about somebody's unpaid occupation without knowing what it is, but I guess I understand. I mean, it sounds all prestigious and grand. The ridiculous part though is, I don't even know! And I've spent a good seven hours at their offices now. But I usually give some vague reply about marketing and operations and music libraries and hope that somewhere in the jargon they'll get confused and smile and nod and stop asking questions. Before I go any further, I want to make it clear, this internship is a great fit for me. Even if I end up learning absolutely nothing at all, it will look excellent on my resume, and it will be better than learning nothing at all somewhere else. And I think I will learn something, it's just not getting off to a grand start.

My supervisor seemed eager to meet me and get me started, which was encouraging. I had been a little surprised at how quickly she had given me the internship, but I attributed this to the fact that I had been so proactive about it, and I found out that I was right on that score. I went in on Monday and was disconcerted to find that she hadn't even looked at my resume. I mean, she didn't even know what my major was, obviously hadn't read my carefully prepared cover letter, and hadn't remembered her earlier promise that I would also be able to meet with the operations department. I was a little disappointed, but not particularly hurt. I mean, I'm a whiny college student and she has a job to do. I don't exactly expect to be spoonfed. And I figured that marketing would be more versatile than operations, although I don't know that I'm particularly suited for it. She then explained her big vision for my time with them. Social networking. Yes, three of my five major goals would consist of facebook, myspace, and twitter. I nodded politely, unwilling to put my oar in so early in our relationship but thinking all the time at the back of my mind that THAT is going to change. Basically she sees me as a pool of knowledge for this new world of the internet that she is not very versed in. I don't mind that, and am happy to help them. But I'm not going to learn anything sitting and updating their facebook page. Unfortunately that's about all I've done the three days I've been there.

I have a small cubicle in an area on the mezzanine level with particularly hideous red shag carpet. I've found our initial few meetings to be particularly unhelpful and concise. I've pretty much had to fend for myself. By exploring the computer drives and past emails I've been able to learn a bit about important little details like parking passes for interns, how to use the network and where past interns have left off. If they really were as unmotivated as it seems, I think my supervisor has another thing coming, because I WILL NOT be shoved into a back corner to mess about on instant messaging while pretending to learn about marketing by sending invitations to all my friends about the symphony facebook group. Seriously. I can't really figure out what else the interns have been doing, unless it's clipping news articles (the work study student they currently have, Justin, takes care of that right now) and making gift certificates for auctions (I did that on Monday). I think the danger is that she will treat me like a work study student, but I'm not getting any compensation for this, so it's not a matter of picking up odd jobs that nobody else can get around to. I'm here to learn about arts management dang it.

ANYHOW, Wednesday I met a few other people who work for the symphony, but not to the extent that I would remember any of their names. I wonder what they think of me. The weird blonde girl who's doing an internship for free and stays secluded in the corner while goofing off on facebook. Criminy. My supervisor made a point of telling everyone that I was Jane's niece, which was fine, but felt awkward. The best part of that day was the most wonderfully awkward moment when I left. There's a law office adjacent to the symphony's marketing offices. I was waiting by the elevator to go to the lobby when I heard someone call out "see ya!" I turned around, a bit surprised because I didn't recognize him, but I figured I had met a lot of people in a 30 second time span so it was probably a symphony employee. "Oh! See ya?" I timidly offered, only to realize just after the words had left my mouth that it was an employee of the law office saying goodbye to the receptionist on his way out. He smiled at me, realizing my mistake, and we silently waited for the elevator. "So, how are you?" he asked out of nowhere. I gave the usual response, trying not to smile. The elevator came. We both entered it. I was trying very hard not to laugh. Luckily a third person entered and we were allowed to be silent. It was deliciously awkward. I don't think I've ever had such a backwards conversation before.

So today I was expecting a formal meeting with my supervisor as well as briefing on what I would be doing at the concert this weekend. I was again disappointed, because all she said was that they might need some ushers and Justin and I might have to fill in. Great. Just what I want. To stand around with a bunch of older women in an unflattering vest while handing out programs to Rockwood Manor residents. I hope nobody I know shows up. At least I finally got to meet the mysterious Justin, a fellow Whitworth student who transferred from California last semester. He's a comm major who for some reason got a work study job with the symphony even though he professes that he didn't know anything about classical music before he took the job. It was a little awkward though, because he was doing legitimate (if boring) work while I was wondering what else of merit I could do on facebook. At one point he came out and asked me what I was doing for the symphony's facebook page, and I gave a vague reply about events, knowing full well that it takes about half an hour at most to update events. Yeesh. Still, he was very nice and at least I had a human being to talk to instead of the odd unsupervision I've experienced the past couple days.

I will be meeting with Brent on Monday to draw up some specific goals, that I hope to have the guts to press for when I meet with my supervisor that afternoon. I've already forced myself to ask about possibly attending a meeting (small battles, baby steps), to which I was given the reply that there usually weren't meetings after 2:00. Well, I get that, but how the heck am I supposed to know WHEN I should be there if nobody tells me!? I might be going to a press conference on Tuesday, which could be mildly uninteresting if I'm lucky, but I want to be actively DOING or LEARNING something. I mean, I get that I won't be handed a lot of particularly skilled work and I also get that a lot of the work is mundane stuff like filing and answering phones. It's a symphony office, not the CIA. But I could at least shadow someone, or find out how they track their attendance, or target their marketing, or what specific departments do, or how they plan marketing campaigns, or... something. When I left today my supervisor said she'd like to help me so that I wasn't floundering around on my own. Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but strangely enough I resent it a little. Anyhow, I know it's all very outrageous and shocking and that I should have been receiving more help from the get go blah, blah, blah, blah, but I'd rather that you didn't worry about it. Like I said, it's a symphony office. It's not like anything particularly exciting is going on there. But, these are the people that make it possible for classical music to be performed live. It may be a boring job, but it's important to me nonetheless. I think I can stomach the tedium knowing that at least somebody is getting a good concert out of the deal. Because I'm that pathetic. Cheers.

Waaaayyy Long and Muddled

So this is just my strangely public way of organizing my thoughts a little. I've been a bit unpredictable lately and I think it's because I'm about to graduate from college and become a fully independent adult in just a few months. I didn't have much time to think about the gravity of this transition in the fall, but Jan-term has left me with time to think about my future, and as I've tried to form some definite plans various demons of uncertainty have jumped out at me, almost without my recognizing them.

I've only recently begun to notice that I'm more irritable lately. I'm discover that I DO have a bit of a temper and an unfortunate tendency to lash out when I'm in a bad mood. I've learned to ride out my mood swings, because they're often completely unfounded, but now I seem to be taking them out on those I respect and care about. If I've done so to you, I truly apologize. I probably didn't even think about it at the time, although I don't know that that's to my credit. If I do unexpectedly snap at you or otherwise act like an ogre, please bring my attention to the fact. I want to be aware of when I'm treating my friends unfairly. So please confront me about it. And thank you for forbearing with my sudden outbursts if you've had to deal with them. At least I'm now aware of the problem and it's something I'll have to be on my guard about and work on. On the flip side I'm becoming more outgoing and gregarious too. I seem to bounce between a slightly more extreme set of highs and lows, exhibiting fewer inhibitions in either case. My fear is that as graduation gets closer, it's only going to get worse. Hopefully now that I'm thinking about it I should be able to retain some control over myself.

As I said, I've been brushing off how big of a deal this upcoming transition really is. I remember feeling jittery and nervous prior to freshman year, but I was also excited because I knew I was going to a good place. Now my future is like the blinking cursor of a blank Word document at three in the morning. All I can think is: Start typing! Start typing! I'm only just realizing that this is an even bigger transition than going to colleg was, because it's so open-ended and puts such a final cap on childhood. Recognizing this has allowed me to give myself permission to be a little more emotional about it. I'm not being stupid or trite if I express that I'm nervous or overwhelmed, because it IS a big deal. The fact that everybody else goes through it too doesn't make it less of a big deal. I don't know why I always have such an aversion to being like everybody else. It's totally a pride thing. I want to be superior and above the silly problems of the common herd. Sick really. Stupid too. As though I were invincible from all that drives the lives of others.

And so I think a lot about what I want to DO with my life and how I want to live it, realizing that I'll now be able to define myself with a freedom I've never had before. I love the idea of this, of creating my own living space and being able to live out my philosophy of life through its expression in my work, hobbies, relationships etc. In a way I'm already doing this, but with limitations. I have an idea of who I want to be as an adult. Not what I want to do or accomplish, but the kind of person I want to be. There are some things about myself I want to change and probably will never be able to. There are other things I want to change and probably shouldn't. Nevertheless I have a very clear picture of how I want to function in life.

It's funny (as in peculiar, or perhaps just telling) how God gives us what we need, but not until the exact moment we absolutely need it. Fosters trust I suppose. I've recently discovered a certain inner strength I hadn't been aware of before. Of course it's not exactly self-reliance. Self-reliance is, in my opinion, a lie. Nobody can achieve that for long and be sustained. But January has allowed me to spend a lot more time with God and from that is springing a sort of self-assurance I didn't know I was capable of. As a teenager, like most teenagers, I craved acceptance and approval. I found that at Whitworth, only to discover I didn't really need it after all. Finally I don't have to run around worrying what people think of me.

This new found strength coupled with my restlessness about my future (as much as I commit myself to trust God, and one thing coming out is definitely an increase in that, I cannot be serene) are I think making me a bit reckless. I can sense my parents' anxiety that their little girl is about to venture out into the big bad world alone. In a way I can see their point. I almost feel like a danger to myself in my blind naivety. I'm such an idealist that all I want to think about is potential, not possible danger. Yet as much as I tell myself to be careful I also keep responding that I cannot be motivated by fear. You have to take risks in order to do something worthwhile. So be it.

Still, I wonder how much of my ambitions are rightly motivated. I feel excitement at some of the prospects of independence, but indignation and even boredom at others. I feel like I'm willing to embrace all the attractive aspects of adulthood, but that I want to avoid all the inconvenient ones. I will take on responsibility as it suits me and pick what obligations I feel are "worthy" of me, but reject those that seem too difficult or unpleasant. In short I applaud the IDEA of self-sacrifice but when faced with the actual spectre, not just some abstract idea of something noble and honorable, but the cold hard reality of what it means to give up something important for others, even the least thing, I turn away. I wonder how many of us really know the meaning of the word sacrifice. I wonder how many of us would really voluntarily submit to it. I wonder if we're even capable of it. My hunch is that true, unselfish, rightly motivated sacrifice is only possible through Christ. In fact that's more than a hunch, that's a basic tenet of faith. Just an implication, a part of believing that Christ is the only true model of it. In order to truly mature and live life in a way worthy of my professed relationship with God I must submit to Christ and ask for grace over and over again. My plans may all be very well, and my desires may be there for a very good reason, but they will never come to much if I stubbornly pick and choose only that which is agreeable to me. I will learn far more, and LIVE far more fully, if I allow God to take away what he will and direct me how he will. I don't really know the half of what this means. I know it's not clean cut black and white. But it's comforting somehow. So I will try to slow down and be patient and not worry about tomorrow.

Vic Bobb is Amazing

Friday was the last day of Crime and Punishment. Gosh I will miss that class. We had more than our share of dynamic personalities, off the wall discussions, random stories, and excellent debates. Plus spending a month with the likes of Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Perry Mason, Phillip Marlowe, Henry Merrivale and Cordelia Gray to name but a few is to spend a month in pretty excellent company. I reflected that if I had actually taken something practical I would have missed out on making the acquaintance of one of those rare "kindred spirits" as Anne so aptly calls them, for Vic Bobb is certainly that. When not throwing out excellent reading recommendations he was reminiscing about life in rural Washington or sharing my own admiration for landscape photography.

So for all the oddities of the class, I felt sad to leave it on Friday. On entering the room I saw that Vic was arranging a large collection of mystery novels on his desk, as though they were a display in a bookstore. I recognized the omnibus edition of Father Brown I had borrowed from him over the summer. They were, I assumed, books for us borrow. He said he had originally been going to assign them based on what he thought different people would like, but had eventually decided to let us pick our own reading material. How great was that? I already had a stack of John Dickson Carr novels on loan from him and felt a little guilty choosing more from his library, but I wanted to read some more P.D. James or Raymond Chandler. I would wait though, for the rest of the class to pick. Class began and Vic announced that we each would get to take one novel from the desk. "Wait, you're giving them to us?" someone asked. "Sure." What!? He was GIVING these AWAY? I couldn't believe it. If that was the case, I knew which one I had to take. It was so funny. I had almost bought the complete Father Brown with an Amazon gift card I got for Christmas, but had decided against it in favor of getting a couple of movies. And how fitting that I should own the copy that Vic Bobb had loaned me before he knew who I was. So now the beloved volume is sitting in my room, an excellent souvenir from an excellent class and a great professor. If anyone would like to borrow it, let me know.

Cussedness

Sir Henry Merrivale, known to all as H.M., is very quickly becoming one of my favorite fictional characters. We're reading "The Judas Window" in Crime and Punishment, and I find it to be quite excellent, not least because H.M. is a barrister who addresses the jury (and others) with "Well, my fatheads." But the following passage was the clincher and simply had to share its amazingness.

"I love to be a Corrector of Cussedness. You've heard me talk a lot in the past about the blinkin' awful cussedness of things in general, and I suppose you thought that was only my way of lettin' off steam. But I meant it. Now, ordinarily, this cussedness is supposed to be funny. You can't help bein' amused even when you kick the wastepaper basket all over the room. I mean that the one morning you've got an important engagement is the one morning you miss the train. The one time you take your best girl out to dinner is the one time you call for the bill and find you've left your wallet at home. But did it ever occur to you to think how that applies to whackingly serious matters too? Just think back over your own life, and see whether most of the important things that happened to you were prompted by anybody's effort to do malice, or anybody's effort to do good, or, burn me, by anybody's effort at all: but simply by the sinful, tearin' cussedness of things in general."

"You don't make a religion of that, do you?" I asked. "For if you think that things in general are all banded together in a conspiracy to administer a celestial kick in the pants, you might as well retire to Dorset and write novels."

"Y'see," said H.M., with ghoulish amusement, "that goes to show that the only sort of cussedness you can imagine is the kind that lands you in the soup. Like the Greek tragedies where the gods get a twist on some poor feller and he's never got a chance. You want to say, 'Hey, fair play!--take a few wallops at him if you must, but don't load the dice so far that the feller can't even go out in a London fog without comin' home with sunstroke.' No, son. Everything works both ways, especially cussedness...Call the whole process by any fancy name you like: call it destiny or Mansoul or the flexibility of the unwritten Constitution: but it's still cussedness."

Wow

Well it's been kind of difficult to post anything about break because we have no phone. But just an idea of what I've been up to.

1. Getting snowed in with friends (specifically Katrina. We watched six movies, researched WWI, and learned how to make eggs in a basket).
2. Getting snowed in at home and reading a lot. I read Persuasion in a day (which was very good Katrina, I can see why you like it so much although I think Mansfield Park is still my favorite Austen). Two days later I stayed up until about 4:00 in the morning and finished Jane Eyre in a day... Wow was I expecting it to be different! I was expecting delicate Austenish satire. I got a gothic Christian romance novel. Although I think Bronte's literary merits go above that description, so don't get the wrong idea.
3. Went sledding, a lot.
4. Walked out to the highway several times, for Christmas and baby showers and such.
5. Went to First Night Spokane with Karen. Had a lot of fun and ran into a lot of Whitworth kids.
6. Was plowed out by the National Guard on New Year's Day! It was pretty cool.
7. Played the piano, a lot. I will become a good sight-reader. I am determined.
8. Finally was able to check my grades and I got exactly what I wanted.
9. Will be heading back to Spokane shortly, the Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

IT'S OVER!!!

It is very difficult to focus on the nine steps of redesign when the first real snow of the winter is taking place right outside the winter. So who knows how my last exam went. Not too bad, I don't think. And now it's done! And I took a nap! And I'm going home this weekend! And I don't want to think. At all. a;llkjfieo;asoiefjkl;asdf jio;dsoiajffcail;osdijf! ioasdf... ffdawefdefefiojijkkkji i d j i l j n s e i j f ahhhhhhhhhhhlaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalalalalalallallalafalalalafalalalafalalalalala. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

:-) *yawns* I'm going to eat something now.

Things I Will Miss About Whitworth 1

So in reading back over my blog I said that I wouldn't have much time to post senior year. I was right. It's been crazy and challenging and exciting and overwhelming in so many different ways. There have been so many times this semester that I thought I was on the verge of giving up, like there was no way I could ever finish all the assignments that were due or be ready for performances or even CARE about either anymore. Yet I've made it. Somehow. And I seem to have a pretty good chance at coming out okay. I'm happy that I'll be enjoying a much lighter load for Jan-term and spring. I definitely don't want to do this again. But I've learned a lot about myself, and that's been a good thing.

With that said, I've been thinking about how different life is going to be next year after I graduate. Whitworth was my first experience of independence and has played a big part in who I currently am. It will be weird not to be part of this community anymore. I was reflecting today that while there are things I will miss about Whitworth specifically, a lot of the things I will miss are related to the fact that an episode is closing in my life. It's not Whitworth, it's being a student, being in that transition period between teenager and adult (why are there so many transition phases? I'm sure it has to be a modern thing), being in such a strong network of friends. Things like that. So here's a list of both Whitworth things and life things that I will miss next year. This is just looking back on the fall, so there will probably be a spring list too. Thus the "1" in the title.

1. Awesome friends, lots of them - Absolutely the hardest thing about graduation, whether I end up moving away or not, will be the fact that so many of the close relationships I have developed will fade in some way. It will be interesting who I stay in touch with and who gradually moves out of my life, and it's hard to think about. My friends at Whitworth have become an extension of family and in some ways know more about me than my actual family does. After we graduate we're all going to be in different places, whether it's back home or at a new job or overseas or what have you. I'm excited for all of us, but I'm going to miss people terribly.

2. Hanging out in the dorms - this is something that really died last year since I'm off campus now, but some of my best memories will involve impromptu dorm happenings. It's just guaranteed that when you shove a bunch of "youngsters" in a small space together crazy fun things are going to happen. Luckily at Whitworth most of those things are also safe.

3. Music - student recitals, concerts, student-ticket prices (REALLY going to miss that), symphony group, lessons, ensembles (even jazz ensemble!), being able to explore and play music as much as I want to and be considered normal at the same time AND be surrounded with people who are as crazy about it as I am.

4. Academia - Well, I am getting a little tired of the college atmosphere in this respect, but it is still neat to walk down the halls of Dixon and pass by lectures on Kant, metaphysics, child psychology, and economics to name a few. Sometimes I think I want to just sit outside the doors and soak it all in. Then I remember that even for a place populated by thoughtful, intelligent students like Whitworth that would be weird.

5. Professors - How awesome is it to have so many personal mentors whose job is to focus on giving you the tools to succeed? How awesome is it to have amazing personal role models and banks of information who are just an email away? Whitworth has some outstanding professors and I've developed close relationships with more than a few. My theory is that they start out as parent figures when you're a lost little freshman, so there's a special bond I think. Granted, I will NOT miss being the focus of so many people's vocation or the topic of meeting room discussions. I never want to know how auditions are discussed. Ever.

6. Brick buildings and pine trees - Whitworth is like the college campus version of a comfy old sweater. It has the academic feel, but it's a casual one.

7. Chapel - especially services like tonight's Candlelight Nativity. I have a difficult time encountering all the anti-Christian thought out there. I'm pretty strong in my faith (currently) but I always feel that I have to apologize or admit that I'm an ignorant idiot for being a Christian. To have the encouragement of a strong community of fellow Christians whose intelligence I also respect has been a huge blessing. To be able to openly express my faith without fear is another. To have a haven from homework and stress and a place to refocus on what's important is a third.

8. Being nocturnal - after a certain hour, everything becomes funny. Alternatively, homework also becomes more evil.

That's enough for now I think. Expect more to come. :-) Sometimes I think I do better with life if I can treat it as what is happening is already in the past. That's probably why I often narrate to myself in past tense. Weird I know.