Thursday, June 22, 2017

torture.

I have good practice days and bad practice days. Today was not so good. It was also the day I decided to treat the Brahms to some "random, interleaved" practice: I would play each movement through without stopping to fix anything. 5 times. Randomly, throughout the day. Oh, brother, it sucks so bad. I mean miserable and then some. I ended up racing through the pieces because I just wanted to be done with them. I hate doing this, especially at this stage of learning (will I ever learn them any better, I wonder), but I figure if I really hate what I hear, I'll change it. But, ugh. I still have three more iterations.

Just to pour salt into the wound, while taking a walk I listened to a recording of a recent lesson. It was the lesson that prompted the "special needs" comment the other day. Again, ugh. "Special needs" notwithstanding, that man has the patience of a saint.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

wonders.

A very few sips of rye can work such wonders. But it doesn't last too long, and defies being-chased-after, and it's not good for me anyway.

Today did not start well. I ran. 8.5 miles, under 10min pace (which, for me, these days, is an accomplishment). But I hated people and this country and the government and people and myself and people the entire time. Came home and had a leisurely breakfast/lunch, put off starting to practice as long as I could. Once I did start practicing, it didn't go poorly. I kind of decided not to be so rigid today, not to stress over camp music, not to commit mentally to 5 hours of practice after which I would assess my playing and determine that I don't sound like someone who practices 5 hours a day. And then hate myself. No, not today. 

Later, I had rehearsal. Arrived just before the sky opened up. Played better than last week, though still not well. We went over and over a section that we hadn't yet covered, that we all asserted we didn't know and were just sight-reading, but the other people are so much better at sight-reading than I am. They were actually learning and getting better with each run-through, whereas I was just making mental notes to go home and learn it better. I would actually see a clump of notes on the page and just think, "no, not now, I'll learn it at home, don't want to risk reading it now." Yikes. Thank god I am just the second viola. Hopefully they were all listening to themselves, and if they were paying attention to the group as a whole, they didn't hear the viola.

Regarding the country: I'm almost done. In yesterday's special elections, Democrats consistently lost. The people have spoken; they got what they wanted. The majority is happy with an idiot monster in charge. In this country, the majority opinion rules and we all must abide by it. I hope I outlast him.

Regarding people: I crave solitude more and more. The thought of having to speak to people - in person, on the phone, whatever - makes my chest feel tight. I really don't know what to do about this.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

special needs.

It's been a long week, capped by a 7-hour stretch at the rockshow last night, and I am tired. Today I was going to let myself be tired: I'd take a day of from running, practice before my viola lesson but maybe not so much afterward, and start hitting it hard again tomorrow. 

The lesson didn't start off well; due to time constraints I've been working on small sections of music, and the teacher seemed to zero in on things I hadn't practiced. I fumbled, got flustered, fumbled more. My tired brain threatened to stop processing written music. Gradually things righted themselves...at the end of the lesson, he remarked that he was glad to have a student like me, especially one with "special needs" due to my age and circumstances. He said it's taught him a lot about teaching. He then added that he hoped that didn't sound demeaning. I know he often doesn't articulate well, so who can really say what he meant, but...sigh. I don't want to have special needs. I want to have the same needs as anyone else. 

I really hope I can let go of this remark, or at least not chew on it very long. It shouldn't change the course of anything. If I suck, I suck; if I can learn, I will learn. But I don't want to waste time feeling miserable about it.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

notes from my first paying gig.

(This was not classical music, but a tribute show in honor of Paul McCartney's 75th birthday. So, some Beatles songs, two as a string quartet and three with a rock band). Getting there at 5 for the soundcheck that didn't happen and then hanging out until nearly 11 does actually result in a non-warmed-up performance. All the vibrato that had been flowing out of my hand all week seemed stoppered up again. There was no opportunity to tune to each other, and my tuner app picked up all the ambient noise of the bands playing onstage, and wasn't reliable. So, I was really out of tune. Also, we stood instead of sat, which didn't really matter to me but was just an unexpected thing, and my poor vision made me stand way back of the other string players (to see the music) and I accidentally poked one of the violinists with my bow. Also, there really wasn't room for 11 people on the stage. Also, certain frequencies really came through the monitor and others not at all. But really all you can do is just smile through it all and try to look like you're having a good time. Because sometimes you are.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

this ain't the summer of love

Brahms, Borodin, Borodin. Brahms. So much romantic music I will need an astringent. Oh, and some Beatles. Lordy.

I am consumed these days with musical have-tos: pieces I have to learn for camp or for the weekly chamber music thing or for my first (and likely last) paying gig this coming Saturday. It never feels like learning when I'm doing it, but some of it sticks, and then I surprise myself the next day. Of course, there are many days where I can't seem to play my way out of a paper bag.

That's all there is. The rest, I don't want to deal with. The state of politics in this country has started to make me feel physically ill. I'm not exaggerating.