I just realized that I have moved every year for the past 8 years of my life. Every year during college, every year after college, including twice back and forth across the country. I really detest the process of moving. I think mostly because I am traumatized by the NYC apt search process. I really never want to do that again. Because of the high prices and competitive renter's market, once you find something you've got to JUMP on it or some other fish will take the bait. If it's a good apt, they often have 8 or 10 applications at once for the same place and then just pick whoever has the highest income and best credit. I used to always hit 'refresh' whenever looking at a craigslist so that I could snag the newest posting. I even learned to sort out which postings were what I called "totally bunk" (a technical term). Like when the posting says there's a picture on the listing and it turns out to be a creepy-looking broker in front of an exposed brick wall, as if his presence in front of the brick meant that your apt could have exposed brick also.
Well, things are easier outside of NY, that's for sure. Our landlord was giving us subtle hints that we would not be able to renew our lease here, especially since we were seeking a shorter-term lease. We love this apt for the most part, and when we move, Paul is going to have to release my grip from the stainless steel appliances and the granite countertops. We're leaving mostly because we are fed up with the manangement's lack of responsive to things like the broken dishwasher, electrical problems, growing mold in the bathroom and windows, noise complaints from anal neighbors (about us playing Rock Band- the nerve!), and the shady landlord whose details I won't get into here. Finally we said screw it and decided to look for apts on a Sunday afternoon.
This was a decidedly easy process. We just drove around to apt complexes we thought we would like and asked if they had any availability. Most places they did, and in most places there were model units to see if not the real unit for rent. And, they were the ones chasing US to rent the place. Imagine that! I am so used to having my checkbook in hand and going, "We'll take it right now, here's our deposit!!" if we see something we like. But they were the ones telling us, "If you take it today, your security deposit will only be $99!" Wow! $99! I was sold pretty much every where we went.
Well, not exactly. There were some pretty dingy places in UTC that were charging up the wazoo simply for the location. There was one building that we called the Miami Vice apt which had a sign in these very 80's capital letters, and fake plants and plastic chandeliers everywhere. It gave me the creeps. They also didn't allow dogs but the guy kept winking at us to ensure that it would be ok to bring a dog anyway. I wasn't very comfortable with that, or the winking for that matter. Finally, we found one complex owned by a company that owns hundreds of complexes across the country. You could sign a year lease and then if for whatever reason you had to relocate, move into any of their complexes at no additional charge. This is a perfect arrangement for us since both of us have a lot of uncertainty ahead in terms of job and school location. We really have no idea what we'll be doing post June, actually. It's pretty exciting. So after seeing a few of their complexes, we decided the one with the best value was in Torrey Hills, which has a humongous pool and a nicer gym, and is close to many of my students and closer to where Paul's office will be moving soon. It also has a HUGE walk-in closet (I've had bedrooms that were about this size), a full-size washer and dryer, and more square footage than we could find in our current neighborhood. It is a pretty area and our unit has a patio with a view of a canyon. It's also right off of 3 different freeways, and there's a walking trail nearby where you can see the water. It is very, very quiet over there. We say that we have "the quiet life" here. Now we enter "the quieter life."
After I packed about 10 boxes the other day, Paul said to me, "See? Moving's not so bad, right?" I promptly gave him my evil glare and he did dishes for the rest of the evening.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Oklahoma!
In the middle of the Great Plains of our country, a new mecca for classical guitar has arisen.
On Thursday, I returned from a 4-day trip to Oklahoma City. This was indeed quite a whirlwind of a trip in which I played a full solo concert, gave a master class, and taught private lessons for a full day. It was also pretty fascinating to be in a part of the country that I am completely unfamiliar with, meeting new people, and having guitar be the bond that connected myself to everyone that I met.
A few realizations- first of all, there are parts of the country where the arts is still funded in the way that I believe it should be. Take for example, the high school/middle school that my host Matt is a full-time teacher at. The Classen School of Advanced Studies in Oklahoma City boasts a six-level program of classical guitar with over 240 students enrolled. Yes, we're talking 240 teenagers all filing their fingernails, obsessing over Segovia, and having arguments about which contemporary players have the best fingerings for a Bach Prelude based on the incontrovertible evidence of YouTube videos. It was pretty amazing to meet so many young people all getting such quality instruction on the instrument and so eager to meet a guitarist like myself. I was practically getting celebrity treatment, since I think their teacher had blown me up to be some sort of star and not a whole lot of performers come through Oklahoma.
On my first day, I watched the Advanced Guitar Ensemble practice for an upcoming youth guitar competition in Texas. They were sounding really amazing. I really think there is no other guitar program (especially at a public school) in the country quite at its caliber.
The next day I had my concert at Southern Nazarene University in Bethany, Oklahoma. It was a nice hall with great acoustics. We had a good turnout with most of the advanced students from Classen in attendance with their families. Since the concert was hosted at a Christian college, they welcomed anything I had to say about my faith and encouraged me to do so. In general, I've decided to try to make a statement of faith in as many performance opportunities as I can. This concert turned out to be a great platform to make share a brief testimony about my faith in front of all of these public high school kids and their families, along with people from the community. Before I played my hymn arrangements (Were You There?/What a Friend We Have in Jesus/Be Thou My Vision), I shared a little bit about the way I grew up being surrounded by my mother's beautiful piano playing and the way hymns have seeped their way into my heart and mind, and that worship is the reason I pick up my guitar every day. I really felt something special happen during that time and I know that God answered prayers of simply being present during the concert. Though the first half had its ups and downs, the second half of the concert I was able to feel completely in my element and really just enjoyed playing. And I knew that I was doing it out of a strength that was completely beyond me. Playing a 2 hour concert is physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining, but by the end I was so energized that I could barely sleep that night. And after a post-concert meal at T.G.I. Friday's (the food selection in OK wasn't all that vast), it was probably better that I stayed up for awhile to digest! Although I did have really good BBQ and fried okra on my last day. Unfortunately, no photo from this concert- I was too preoccupied to even think about it that day.
The next day I was booked up with private lessons at Classen from 9-5, with a 2 hour master class in the middle. A master class is when you give a lesson to someone, but it's open to the public, which ups the anti on both the performer and the teacher's side. Having gone through many master classes during my time as a student, I know how grueling it can be to be up there. Every student was pretty nervous and I tried to be undestanding and engaging since the room was packed with guitar students and guitar teachers from the community. It was actually a lot of fun, and the thrill of teaching is probably equal to the thrill of performing for me. I love presenting a new idea to a student and seeing how change can come across in their playing immediately, or making them think about a piece in a completely different way. It was really a privilege to be there, and I met some really talented students that day.
And my final full day, I got to do some sightseeing around town. Oklahoma to me looked like a combination of New Jersey and the suburbs of Atlanta. I guess I don't have that many places to compare it to. The trees were pretty bare since it is still the end of winter. I thought this one was cool.
And I got to see the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing. It was really beautiful. I caught one good shot of the sun setting over the part of the memorial where a bronze chair was sculpted for every victim of the bombing.
A great trip, but I'm so glad to be home with Paul and Aiko. Home never feels quite so much like home until you go somewhere that is completely unfamiliar. I have been looking forward to this time so much because I am done with deadlines for awhile and now have a few months in which I can ease up on the practicing and learn some new music. So I did stuff that I haven't had time to do in months. I went outlet shopping. I ran lots of errands. I did some spring cleaning. I slept a lot. But in the end, I am somewhat of a workaholic. I feel purposeless unless I have goals.
So I started playing again tonight. Somewhere in the time and place where music became work, I forgot how much I really enjoy playing. Just playing.
On Thursday, I returned from a 4-day trip to Oklahoma City. This was indeed quite a whirlwind of a trip in which I played a full solo concert, gave a master class, and taught private lessons for a full day. It was also pretty fascinating to be in a part of the country that I am completely unfamiliar with, meeting new people, and having guitar be the bond that connected myself to everyone that I met.
A few realizations- first of all, there are parts of the country where the arts is still funded in the way that I believe it should be. Take for example, the high school/middle school that my host Matt is a full-time teacher at. The Classen School of Advanced Studies in Oklahoma City boasts a six-level program of classical guitar with over 240 students enrolled. Yes, we're talking 240 teenagers all filing their fingernails, obsessing over Segovia, and having arguments about which contemporary players have the best fingerings for a Bach Prelude based on the incontrovertible evidence of YouTube videos. It was pretty amazing to meet so many young people all getting such quality instruction on the instrument and so eager to meet a guitarist like myself. I was practically getting celebrity treatment, since I think their teacher had blown me up to be some sort of star and not a whole lot of performers come through Oklahoma.
On my first day, I watched the Advanced Guitar Ensemble practice for an upcoming youth guitar competition in Texas. They were sounding really amazing. I really think there is no other guitar program (especially at a public school) in the country quite at its caliber.
The next day I had my concert at Southern Nazarene University in Bethany, Oklahoma. It was a nice hall with great acoustics. We had a good turnout with most of the advanced students from Classen in attendance with their families. Since the concert was hosted at a Christian college, they welcomed anything I had to say about my faith and encouraged me to do so. In general, I've decided to try to make a statement of faith in as many performance opportunities as I can. This concert turned out to be a great platform to make share a brief testimony about my faith in front of all of these public high school kids and their families, along with people from the community. Before I played my hymn arrangements (Were You There?/What a Friend We Have in Jesus/Be Thou My Vision), I shared a little bit about the way I grew up being surrounded by my mother's beautiful piano playing and the way hymns have seeped their way into my heart and mind, and that worship is the reason I pick up my guitar every day. I really felt something special happen during that time and I know that God answered prayers of simply being present during the concert. Though the first half had its ups and downs, the second half of the concert I was able to feel completely in my element and really just enjoyed playing. And I knew that I was doing it out of a strength that was completely beyond me. Playing a 2 hour concert is physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining, but by the end I was so energized that I could barely sleep that night. And after a post-concert meal at T.G.I. Friday's (the food selection in OK wasn't all that vast), it was probably better that I stayed up for awhile to digest! Although I did have really good BBQ and fried okra on my last day. Unfortunately, no photo from this concert- I was too preoccupied to even think about it that day.
The next day I was booked up with private lessons at Classen from 9-5, with a 2 hour master class in the middle. A master class is when you give a lesson to someone, but it's open to the public, which ups the anti on both the performer and the teacher's side. Having gone through many master classes during my time as a student, I know how grueling it can be to be up there. Every student was pretty nervous and I tried to be undestanding and engaging since the room was packed with guitar students and guitar teachers from the community. It was actually a lot of fun, and the thrill of teaching is probably equal to the thrill of performing for me. I love presenting a new idea to a student and seeing how change can come across in their playing immediately, or making them think about a piece in a completely different way. It was really a privilege to be there, and I met some really talented students that day.
And my final full day, I got to do some sightseeing around town. Oklahoma to me looked like a combination of New Jersey and the suburbs of Atlanta. I guess I don't have that many places to compare it to. The trees were pretty bare since it is still the end of winter. I thought this one was cool.
And I got to see the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing. It was really beautiful. I caught one good shot of the sun setting over the part of the memorial where a bronze chair was sculpted for every victim of the bombing.
A great trip, but I'm so glad to be home with Paul and Aiko. Home never feels quite so much like home until you go somewhere that is completely unfamiliar. I have been looking forward to this time so much because I am done with deadlines for awhile and now have a few months in which I can ease up on the practicing and learn some new music. So I did stuff that I haven't had time to do in months. I went outlet shopping. I ran lots of errands. I did some spring cleaning. I slept a lot. But in the end, I am somewhat of a workaholic. I feel purposeless unless I have goals.
So I started playing again tonight. Somewhere in the time and place where music became work, I forgot how much I really enjoy playing. Just playing.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Big City Buzz
So I'm back from the big city. This was my second visit back since we moved from our home of seven years, the city where I went to college, grad school, met my husband, got married, and had an amazing set of friends. After a four day trip to the Big Apple, I am actually really glad to be home in San Diego- a place that has somehow become home to me more than any other home ever has felt like home, mostly because of a special person called my hubby and what we call our "quiet life" here. I suppose the glorious 70 degree weather doesn't hurt either, compared to the 20 degree weather with "wintry mix" precipitation, which is basically the sleetish-snow that gets in your eyes and your face and makes you feel freezing, but never actually accumulates into anything pretty on the ground.
Anyway, it was pretty fun getting a taste of my old life back- lugging my guitar around on the subways, popping into my favorite places for a bagel or slice of pizza, seeing some of my favorite old friends from school, and wearing my puffy down coat along with three layers of everything underneath. The funny thing is that I didn't feel an ounce of tiredness the entire time I was there- in fact, on most nights I had trouble sleeping because my mind was still spinning with the excitement of being back. How long has been since I've stayed out past midnight or gone out after 8pm? Way too long. Oh, how exhilarating!
And so, the album is finally done. After being a half-baked project for much too long, it's finally done- now the fun part of waiting for it to be processed, duplicated, thinking about album art, copyrights, distribution, etc. Now that it was my second time in the studio, it was so much easier to have an idea of how to manage my expectations. My recording engineer was an absolute God-send and didn't give me an ounce of impatience or attitude the entire time. He magically edited all the little blips, buzzes, and string noise out of my recorded playing while I sat back and repeatedly went, "Wow. I can't believe you can do that."
Recording is a musician's best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one. Not really a warm fuzzy experience. Your mistakes are magnified and everything you ever didn't want anyone to hear is absolutely audible- string noise, buzzes, your clothing on the instrument, your breathing. Basically, your imperfection as a musician and human being are amplified and then you have to spend hours scrutinizing it, seeing what should be re-recorded, what can be taken out with the magic of technology, and what is passable and hopefully won't stumble listeners from enjoying the music. The whole process made me painfully aware of my own imperfection. To seek perfection for 8 hours a day three days straight was exhausting for me mentally. But then I had to stop and ask myself whether I should be seeking perfection in the first place.
I really do believe that the struggle of an artist to create something beautiful in a fallen world is perhaps the most beautiful thing of all. I mean, isn't the best thing about an old jazz recording that you can hear the musician humming along with his solo, or a vocalist taking a deep long breath before she starts the next phrase? In the end, I had to just let things go, realizing that this album ain't perfect, but it's me- it's human, so it can be gritty, awkward, ugly, worshipful, nonsensical, beautiful, and pleasant all at the same time.
I think that's the magic of being a human being.
Anyway, it was pretty fun getting a taste of my old life back- lugging my guitar around on the subways, popping into my favorite places for a bagel or slice of pizza, seeing some of my favorite old friends from school, and wearing my puffy down coat along with three layers of everything underneath. The funny thing is that I didn't feel an ounce of tiredness the entire time I was there- in fact, on most nights I had trouble sleeping because my mind was still spinning with the excitement of being back. How long has been since I've stayed out past midnight or gone out after 8pm? Way too long. Oh, how exhilarating!
And so, the album is finally done. After being a half-baked project for much too long, it's finally done- now the fun part of waiting for it to be processed, duplicated, thinking about album art, copyrights, distribution, etc. Now that it was my second time in the studio, it was so much easier to have an idea of how to manage my expectations. My recording engineer was an absolute God-send and didn't give me an ounce of impatience or attitude the entire time. He magically edited all the little blips, buzzes, and string noise out of my recorded playing while I sat back and repeatedly went, "Wow. I can't believe you can do that."
Recording is a musician's best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one. Not really a warm fuzzy experience. Your mistakes are magnified and everything you ever didn't want anyone to hear is absolutely audible- string noise, buzzes, your clothing on the instrument, your breathing. Basically, your imperfection as a musician and human being are amplified and then you have to spend hours scrutinizing it, seeing what should be re-recorded, what can be taken out with the magic of technology, and what is passable and hopefully won't stumble listeners from enjoying the music. The whole process made me painfully aware of my own imperfection. To seek perfection for 8 hours a day three days straight was exhausting for me mentally. But then I had to stop and ask myself whether I should be seeking perfection in the first place.
I really do believe that the struggle of an artist to create something beautiful in a fallen world is perhaps the most beautiful thing of all. I mean, isn't the best thing about an old jazz recording that you can hear the musician humming along with his solo, or a vocalist taking a deep long breath before she starts the next phrase? In the end, I had to just let things go, realizing that this album ain't perfect, but it's me- it's human, so it can be gritty, awkward, ugly, worshipful, nonsensical, beautiful, and pleasant all at the same time.
I think that's the magic of being a human being.
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