Just so this blog doesn't turn into a total downer...
Today I remembered something that happened just before the lesson went to hell yesterday: I'd played part of an etude that I'd been working on, and my teacher said it was the nicest he'd ever heard that etude played in his house. I'm smiling as I write this, because it reminds me of how I sometimes tell my dog she's the prettiest/nicest/smartest/etc dog in the whole house (we only have one dog), but my teacher seemed sincere when he said it. So, there's that.
And there's also this: it occurred to me that getting all pissy about my stand partner blasting his way through the Ives is just, well, pissy of me. This past spring I had the privilege of sitting with a group of professionals to read through some chamber music - and I was not paying them to do it; they were being nice - and for all I know, I was running roughshod over someone's favorite piece, but nobody said so or even acted so. So who the hell am I to get out-of-sorts about Mr Serious University Music Student and what he might "do" to the Ives? If Charles Ives were alive, I'm sure he'd cringe at what I "do" to it.
Since I don't believe in a god, I will offer my apologies to the universe instead.