May 2005:
I cannot believe I'm actually attempting to start a blog. Has my existence really degenerated this far? Is this what happens when you graduate from college? I thought I was cooler than this. ...Wait, no I didn't. Curse you, higher education! Oh well. Blogging seems to be the thing to do these days and lord knows I am one to follow every trend that surfaces (/sarcasm). We'll so how long I can actually keep this going. Honestly, if this lasts for more than a week I will consider it a massive success.
So who am I? I am a twenty-something year old who has just recently graduated with a Master's degree in Music. I am a bleeding heart liberal Best Coaster who decided to go to grad school in the South. Every day is an adventure in learning how to bite my tongue. I am now reaping the benefits of my costly education by being penniless, jobless and soon-to-be homeless. This sucks. I will have to figure out a way to fix this situation by the end of summer or I will be royally screwed. Why did I choose the life of a musician?! Why? WHY??!! If I end up keeping this site for an extended period of time, I'm sure I will be keeping you posted on my tragic state of jobless-ness and ongoing search for a source of income. Anyone out there need a musician for hire? Anyone? Bueller?
June 2005:
OH. MY. GOD. It is hot as balls. I don't even have the energy to write very much in this post. I think my brain is melting. If I haven't spontaneously combusted, I may try to write more later.
* * *
Hello. I am a Target-aholic.
Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. I swear I don't do it intentionally, but today I went to Target for like the 5th time in the last two weeks. I need help. This blog should just be about my daily excursions to Target... except that that would be exciting for nobody but me. Anyway, today I bought some windshield wiper fluid, two boxes of Kleenex (On sale for 71 cents!! What a deal!), razor blade cartridges and two girly magazines. It's the magazine rack that kills me everytime. If I can just go to the store without buying any brainless girly mags, (I feel ok whenever I buy, like, Discover or Scientific American or something, because those publications actually have worthwhile content...) I would save a lot of money. I also swung by the luggage aisle and looked longingly at some beautiful Eddie Bauer luggage.
I also had lunch with my friend Ben at Senor Taco today. My chile relleno was muy bueno! Ben says that everytime we go to a Mexican restaurant together (and we do often, it seems...), all the Mexican waiters stare and give me longing looks (perhaps much like the way I gaze adoringly at my future luggage). I don't see it myself. If I start scoring some free flan or fajitas, however -- then we're talking!
* * *
Not to alarm anyone, but I would just like to announce that today I:
1) did not go to Target and
2) also practiced the clarinet!
At the risk of downplaying my personal achievements, however, I have to clarify that I did write out a list of things that I do need to purchase at Target and will probably buy said things tomorrow.
1. light bulbs
2. St. Ives apricot scrub
3. shower curtain liner
4. grill lighter
5. no more Kleenex since I now have an abundance of tissues
6. cat toy or (if I'm feeling extra generous) laser pointer with which to entertain Bela. Bela and I hang out all day and have a contest over who is more lazy and bored/boring. I feel like he should have more physical activity in his day to day routine...so I can live vicariously through him.
Also, as an added clarification, my clarinet and I were forced into having a reunion today because my Tokyo-bound (whee!) clarinet quartet had a rehearsal tonight. And thank God we did, because it actually was a relief to be playing that damned devil stick again. I must say, I did not sound half as bad as I anticipated, what with my little hiatus. I am going back to Zonda reeds for a while, I think. But I'm upgrading to a #4 strength rather than #3.5. My Vandorens just don't work as well with my recent ligature change. I broke my metal Vandoren Optimum ligature and am now playing on the leather Optimum. The leather is a bit darker and feels not quite as responsive, but a better choice for somebody like me who tends to drop their ligature several times during the course of a week. Anyway, I think the different choice of reeds helped in my lessened degree of suckiness. I did, however, only last about 15 minutes before my chops were dead. (Wow, musicians are nerds.)
I have this cough that won't go away. What if I have consumption? Is that possible? Am I in Victorian-era England? That would not be cool. I've been popping allergy pills like a crazy person, but since I ran out of my beloved Allegra, I have been taking the Wal-mart brand allergy pills, which I am convinced are just tiny sugar pills because this cough is indestructible. I am way annoyed. I have also tried taking some cold medication, but that doesn't seem to be helping things either. I feel like if I can just get this disgusting phlegm out of my body, my recovery will come about very quickly. I, however, am a very proper and lady-like young woman - a delicate flower, you might say - and do not know how to hock a lugie. I sometimes (when there are no other humans around me, of course) attempt to, and I just end up looking and sounding like Bela when he's vomiting up his hairballs. It is quite attractive.
* * *
In lieu of posting an actual photograph of myself, which I am too paranoid to do, I have decided to post my masterful self-portrait which I created courtesy of the Microsoft Paint program. Please do not be creeped out by my seemingly levitating head. ...It is nearly 2 o'clock in the morning. I am way bored and I think I have drank too much caffeine. I am getting quite good at this blogging thing, I think!
My self portrait. Notice that I recently gave myself bangs. I have mixed feelings about them.
* * *
It is nearly midnight and I just came home after joining my friend April for an IHOP run...hrrrllgh. That was the sound of me almost vomiting after eating the following, in its entirety: pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, sausage and bacon, hashbrowns, eggs and grits, with orange juice and coffee to wash it all down. Can I just say that April only had toast, eggs, grits and juice? Damnit! To appease my overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse, as well as to soothe my aching arteries, I have vowed to begin eating healthy! Starting tomorrow! In fact, I stopped by a produce stand this afternoon (perhaps my heightened senses somehow knew that I would be abusing my health later this evening...) and bought a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables. Tomorrow I should have a day of cleansing and just drink a lot of water and eat lots of good produce. The only problem with that is that I know there is a tupperware of bacon and a carton of eggs waiting, lurking for me in the fridge, as well as a few things of Ramen on the countertop. I think probably after 45 minutes of eating apples, nectarines and carrots, I will hear the evil voices calling from the kitchen: Eat us! We are savory and delicious!! And then I will succumb to their evil bidding. But I will resist as long as I can.
* * *
Today I am in the midst of a Nyquil haze, so I'm afraid this morning's post will be very short due to my current inability to form too many fully-formed sentences. I have given up on this cough being allergy-related and am now treating it as though it was (were?) a cold. Perhaps I should roll myself over to Target and pick up some Dayquil.
Also:
My most recent self-portrait. Notice the waywardness of my eyeballs due to the influence of Nyquil. Also, my hair is actually less kempt at the moment than appears in this picture.
* * *
Countdown to Tokyo: T minus 28 days
Get ready for this: I got a call from the executive director of the K-town Symphony today... I have an interview for the Director of Operations position this Thursday morning!! Hurray! Now I can stop stressing out about whether I will even get a phone call, and start stressing out about the actual interview. Baby steps, baby steps... Apparently, I am going up against several other applicants who have actual experience with the job (whereas I have absolutely none), but I was granted an interview because of all the recommendations I got from various orchestra members. So, I may be the long shot, but I will do the best I can to charm the pants off the guy at my interview. Wish me luck! First order of business: find my interview outfit! Ha ha. Just kidding... (Or am I?) Second order of business: get rid of this damned cough so I am not a disgusting, phlegmy mess during the interview.
Today, I also got my new contact lenses. This is very exciting for me. Mainly because I have been wearing the same pair for way too long and my eyeballs have been screaming for mercy. Now I can wear a fresh pair and no longer live with the fear of my precious eyeballs falling out, which I understand is not a good thing.
And finally, I would like to announce that it has been 8 days now since my last visit to Target. This is devastating to me - as you all know, I have developed a rather unhealthy dependency - but I am forcing myself to avoid that place because I: a) need to start saving up my money for Tokyo (...and bills. Ugh.), b) am on a very strict budget until the next payday (which, in my opinion, cannot come soon enough), and c) know myself well enough to accept the fact that if I step one foot inside Target, all my money will mysteriously vanish into thin air and I will have nothing left to buy gas and groceries for the remainder of the month.
* * *
What have I done?
I just finished eating four hotdogs for dinner.
What has become of me?! Is this what happens when I deprive myself of Target? I need to go sit on the couch and wallow in my shame. Peace out.
* * *
Countdown to Tokyo: 25 days
Greetings, faithful readers!
So I had my interview yesterday... I feel pretty good about it. I wore one of my trusty power outfits (black dress and green button-up sweater), which hopefully made me look older than, you know, 12 years old or something. It lasted about an hour long and mostly consisted of Jon (Exec. Director of the Orchestra) presenting me with a few scenarios (1. The rehearsal space is too hot or too cold and the orchestra is getting ornery, but the stage technician doesn't know how to fix it; 2. There is a guest artist flying in that night. There was no stipulation on their contract about food, and there is no money in the budget to handle the extra expense; 3. One of the orchestra musicians is upset about something and is arguing about it with you in a very inappropriate and unprofessional manner...) and seeing how I would handle each said situation. The good thing is that I feel like I presented myself in a very open and forthright manner, while still being agreeable and pleasant. The bad news is that I don't know how much my inexperience and lack of qualifications will factor into the whole situation. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Jon said that he has about 4 or 5 other interviews after me, and then he will choose maybe 2 to come in for a second interview. I should find out sometime later next week. Keep your fingers crossed! If this doesn't work out, then I guess it's on to plan B, which is, namely, to win the lottery and live happily ever after.
July 2005:
Countdown to Tokyo: 16 days
So I haven't heard back from the K-town Symphony. I think I should probably feel rejected or something. I'm ok with it, though. First, because if I truly were being rejected for the job, I think I would have received a phone call actually informing me of this fact (that would be the decent thing, don't you think?), and I haven't heard anything. Perhaps they are just taking longer than expected to deliberate. And second, while being in the position of Operations Director would have been fantastic for a year (maybe two), I would have eventually had to confront the fact that the Symphony would have been non-too-pleased with me not staying in K-town for several years. One of the (undiscussed) stipulations about the job is that they need somebody who will be in K-town for quite a while and, let's face it, the probability of me staying here for too long is not very realistic. Not that I don't love this place and love the people I hang with here -- well, I would say some of the people, some of the time (depending on my hormonal levels on any given day). There's only so much a struggling clarinetist can get out of any certain place before they need to move on, I think. Anyway, so I wouldn't be too upset if I didn't get the job. My bank account and my unhealthy relationship to Target and shopping in general would be very very distraught, however. Obviously, now I need to start worrying about finding a job, period.
I've been searching the job listings in the news listings and have found -- amidst many many listings for sales and retail positions, from which I need to stay clear away (probably for the sake of the business more so than mine... but that's another story) -- a few that I may actually be successful in. We shall see. Anyway, I have all the confidence in the world that things will fall into place as they should eventually. It always works out that way, doesn't it? ...Doesn't it??
* * *
Okay, so I know that I said it before, but I really must begin eating healthy. Starting tomorrow. I swear.
Last night I hung out at Schmoobs' friend Jim's house with Elizabeth and April (Ben, as I suspected all along, decided to wuss out on me. Grr...). We had fun chatting over some icy-cold adult refreshments. And, of course, we blew up some fireworks in his backyard. I believe the highlights of of our evening were when 1) his insanely fearless dog Oscar (formerly Dante, formerly Tick-dog) decided to jump into some fireworks as it was shooting five-foot high flames (luckily, he was not hurt); and 2) when April lit some fireworks, which then toppled over (or something? I don't really know what happened exactly) right before it set off and we were attacked by a billion dazzling balls of fire moving at lightning-fast speed. I believe I screamed like a little girl (which is okay since I am a girl and am, indeed, little). Luckily, none of us caught on fire. Ha.
Anyway, a little after 2 in the morning we decided to go to IHOP. Elizabeth, unfortunately, couldn't come because she had to work later that morning. (Ugh, people with jobs...) Now, the problem with late-night IHOP runs is that they seem like such a good idea in the beginning, but by the end of it, I usually ends up feeling miserable, bloated and wanting a shower. Which is exactly what happened.
In any case, after my glorious hot shower, I watched a little Food Network (which is never a good idea after stuffing yourself full of delicious greasy breakfast foods...) vowing to begin the second phase of my personal healthy-eating movement, and went to bed sometime between 4 and 5 this morning, fully expecting to sleep way in. And then I inexplicably woke up at 10 in the morning, wide awake. Gah! Oh well. Better to not waste the day away, I suppose.
Well, I guess it's time for me to go eat something healthy for lunch. Or a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese. Whatever. ...Tomorrow!
* * *
Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport! Got my passport!
...For those who may be a bit confused, I will come back and explain the background and significance of this when I'm done doing cartwheels around the apartment...
* * *
Phew... that was an exhausting day of cartwheeling about the place. Anyway, I am just way relieved that I finally got my passport since we leave for Tokyo in just over a week and I was freaking out that it may not come in time. Things were not helped when I called the passport agency (for the ten thousandth time) a few days ago and the bitter and wholly unhelpful betch on the other line could not tell me anything except that my application was still "in processing" in New Orleans and that she "could not guarantee that it was going to arrive" by the time I was originally told it would. So in desperation, I asked the woman to go ahead and charge the extra amount to my credit card necessary (*sigh* a bit less sushi and sake for me, I guess) to expedite the process -- and when that was done, I asked her if this meant that I would receive the passport in time, to which she replied, "Well, there's no guarantees about anything, ma'am." Ugh! Anyway, bygones now that I have my precious passport. Whee!
The best part of the morning was when the postman came to the door while I was still in bed (I won't even tell you how late in the day it was...I'm too embarassed) and all I could think to do was throw a giant button-up shirt around my body and throw my glasses on before I answered the door. I think the sight of me in my unkempt, crazy-haired glory may have freaked out the poor postman. Here is my fantastically accurate artistic rendering:
And no, I am not exaggerating about the hair.How unfortunate for me (and the postman?). And as I am analyzing
my self-portrait, it comes to my attention that it looks like I am
giving a rather suggestive come-hither-esque gaze. Trust me when
I say that this was not the case. I was bleary-eyed from being awakened, that's all.
PS. It occurs to me that I am a horrible horrible aunt because -- in my laziness and lack of desire and motivation to post yesterday -- I neglected to wish my fabulous niece an online Happy 4th Birthday yesterday!!! She is the coolest little girl ever -- perhaps rivaled only by me when I was her age -- even when she is eating lipgloss and waking me up at God-awful hours of the morning (i.e. before 10am) when I am at home visiting. Happy Birthday K!! Get ready for some power-shopping when I see you next month!
* * *
Countdown to Tokyo: 10 hours...
Ok, so this will essentially be my last post before we leave for Tokyo. WOOO! The unfortunate part is that I have been feeling nauseous all day. If any of you have any time tonight, feel free to make a virgin sacrifice to the anti-vomit gods for me that I feel better before we take off -- or those 18 hours on the plane will be the most miserable 18 hours of my entire life (and probably the worst 18 hours of my seat mates' lives as well...).
Anyhoo, I'm too distracted (and vomitous) to type anymore. My apologies! If I'm feeling super-devoted to this blog, I may chance to post a few words whilst in Tokyo ... but seeing as how that will take away precious moments from the upcoming sake- and sushi-fest (and clarinerd time......), that will be a long shot.
In any case, wish us luck on our performance on Thursday morning and, should I attempt a hike of Mt. Fuji in the upcoming week, pray that my lungs do not suddenly cease function, causing me to get left behind and eaten by stealthy Japanese mountain goats.
* * *
Am back from Tokyo. So jet-lagged. No desire or will-power to write words. Want to throw self out of nearby window at prospect of getting on another plane in 4 days to play in the Bear Valley Music Festival.
Will attempt to write thoughtful and detailed account of Tokyo-trip sometime in upcoming days...
* * *
Ok, in about one month minus 1 day, I am officially not getting on another airplane for another 10 years. Just kidding. When I start getting homesick around the holidays, I will be rethinking that sentiment, but until then....
So let me tell you the spectacle I made of myself at the San Francisco airport earlier this evening.
I had finally landed in California after yet another miserable day of flying the unfriendly skies (which, by the way, started off with Schmoobs having to pull over on the highway on the way to the airport in K-town so I could vomit out the side of the car) and was waiting at the baggage carousel for my two pieces of checked luggage. Waiting waiting waiting. Finally, about 30 minutes later and after all but two other passengers had come and gone, I received one of my bags. The one with souvenirs for my family from Japan and nothing else. I kept waiting for my larger, slightly more important, piece of luggage -- the one with all my clothes, shoes, personal items, phone charger ... and Heather's eb clarinet.
Despite a voice in my head telling me that I should try to carry the instrument on board with me, I instead decided to pack the clarinet in my suitcase (very carefully, Heather! Very carefully!!) so I wouldn't be given any grief by the airline for having too many carry-ons. Anyway, when the carousel stopped moving, I believe I went into a sort of shock/panic thinking of all the scenarios that might have happened. Did someone take my luggage by mistake? On purpose?? Did the airline lose my luggage??!! I headed over to the parcel services counter where there were seriously like seven other passengers from my flight asking about luggage that never came. I was last to get in line since, while the others were calmly making the steps to retrieve their lost luggage, I was still standing by the unmoving carousel staring into space with unblinking eyes while I may or may not have peed in my pants a little.
In line at the counter, I started to think of all the things I would have to do to make up to Heather the fact that I had just lost her virtually brand-new wonderful eb clarinet which she had been so generous to let me borrow. My eyes began to well up thinking about how much I would miss my kidneys and left leg after I had sold them on the black market for the money to replace the instrument. As I neared my turn at the counter, Schmoobs called and - as he tried to tell me that this sort of thing happens all the time and that I would get my luggage back - I started crying right there in front of the American Airlines (grrrr.... GRRRRR!!!!!) employees and passengers. I got off the phone with Schmoobs in just enough time to talk to the woman at the counter. I attempted to wipe the tears from my eyes in an attempt to persuade everyone there that I had indeed not just been blubbering like a baby about some stupid lost piece of luggage. It obviously had not worked, however, since the woman at the counter looked at me like I was a crazy person and the guy being helped next to me kept giving me worried (puzzled? amused?!) sideways glances. I managed to gather my composure eventually, until the woman asked me for three things inside the suitcase that would make it easily identifiable as mine, and I lost it all over again as I tried to explain that there was an expensive instrument inside. I believe it went something like this: "There's an e-f-f-flat c-clarinet... Like a clar-ar-arinet only s-s-s-sm-smaller... Um-um-ummm... It's inside a black -- no no no, I m-m-ean brown -- like rectangular case. And the c-c-clarinet is ins-s-s-side the c-case..."
Seriously.
Eventually, after I finished blubbering the woman at the counter told me that the luggage would be delivered to me within 24 hours at my parents' house in SR. Which presented a whole new set of problems because in exactly 24 hours I had to be checked in at the BV music festival, 4 hours away from SR, where I was supposed to be playing said clarinet. As I was walking away to catch the bus to SR, I asked the woman at the counter if she could tell me where exactly my bag was at the moment, whereupon I was told, "Oh, it's probably in Chicago..." Fie on you, American Airlines!!
Anyway, long story short, I called the airline twice later to check on the status of my luggage, but was continually told that my bag had not come in on any of the incoming flights from Chicago and they were still waiting for it to arrive. At this point I went upstairs to my bedroom, curled up into a fetal position and drifted off into a state of blissful denial-laced hibernation.
And theeeeen: dun-da-da-DUN!!! My mommy knocked on the door asking if I wanted her to check with the airline one more time, at which point I, of course, still being a 12-year old child inside, said yes. 10 minutes later or so she came back to tell me that the luggage had FINALLY been located and that it would be delivered by 2 or 3 this morning. Hooray! I can keep my body parts after all! And I can go to BV without fear of being fired for not having an eb clarinet for Shostakovich 5!! And Heather doesn't have to fully hate me after all!! Although, of course, Heather, you should hate me just a little for putting your instrument under such peril. I will bring back glorious organic goodies from Northern California to buy back your friendship.
Lesson #1: American Airlines sucks. They make you pay $400 for a ticket on a crummy plane with no in-flight movie -- and then make you pay another $3 on the plane in order to receive your "snack," which is essentially a small cardboard box in which they put a tiny package of chips and salsa, cheese dip, sausage and cookies. Hells no! My super fancy personally made trail mix from Fresh Market will serve me just fine, thanks.
Lesson #2: Any competent musician knows this: Do not check your instruments in if you can help it in any way shape or form. Always carry it on with you! What was I thinking? I've never done this before. Gah. Stupid momentary brain fart. More like brain diarrhea. Never again!
Lesson #3: Although it cannot be helped many times -- especially when you're as surprisingly emotionally fragile as I can be at times (blah) -- crying in public (about a clarinet, for Christ's sake!) is a surefire way of getting people to look at you strangely. No matter how ultra-chic you may look in your leather kitten-heeled sandals and fantastic gold woven top purchased in Tokyo, Japan.
PS. I'm still working on that photo-journal of our trip to Tokyo. It's quite a painstaking process.
Not really. I've just been incredibly lazy this week. Get off my case.
* * *
The e-fer is here safe and sound! But not at 2 or 3 in the morning as originally stated. Instead, it got here at 11:15am -- 45 minutes before I had to leave for BV. But whatever. I have the instrument. I hate American Airlines.
August 2005
I'm in the middle of my second week here in BV. I've taken over my housemate's computer (with which we were able to tap into some nearby cabin's wireless internet -- woot!) while she is practicing in her room so I've decided to do a quick update of my blog.
The first few days of this festival, I was not sure if I was going to like it. Being thrust into a new and strange living environment with new and strange people (musicians, no less... * shudder*) always makes me uneasy, but it seems my housemates and I are now finally beginning to settle in with each other. I'm sharing this house with Kurt (principal cello from Indiana), Cindy (2nd violin from Phoenix) and Sarah (2nd basson from Santa Barbara). Two people were here only last week and have since moved out: Erin, my good friend from UOP (bass clarinet) and Michael (a hilarious trumpet player from Britain, now working in northern California). Tomorrow, a harpist is moving in with us who is coming just to play Scheherazade this weekend.
I've had a really fun time getting to play some great repertoire, most of which I hadn't had the opportunity to play before (Hindemith's Mathis der Maler, William Schuman's New England Triptych, Rach Piano Concerto 4, Grieg Piano Concerto in A minor, Shostakovich 5, etc etc.). These next few days we get to play Brahms 4, Debussy's Prelude to an Afternoon of a Faun, Scheherazade, as well as The Barber of Seville and a few other things. The constant playing has been really good for me, as far as reconfirming my conviction that playing the clarinet actually is what I want to do. And that I can actually make it in this business ... somehow. Regardless of the fact that I just graduated with my Master's degree and am tragically bountiless in the job-prospects department. Whatevs. I will hit the pavement hard the minute I set foot back in K-town, dammit! And I WILL find a way to make a living as a bona-fide musician (...or at least find a way to make a living while still being a bona-fide musican...)!!!
Anyway, this place is beautiful. Picture Lake Tahoe, but on a smaller scale. And our house has a breathtaking view of Bear Lake right from our balcony. It's gorgeous. Maybe when I get back home I'll post some pictures here. When you take a walk around the lake, you can smell the pine trees and it makes you realize how great it is to smell the actual trees and flowers instead of air fresheners. The only thing I've had to sacrifice from being here is the use of my precious cell phone (but I'm actually getting to like not having to cater to the demands of a cell phone...) and the full-capacity use of my already pathetically weak lungs (we're up at over 7,000 feet). I stopped in at the Bear Valley sports shop in between rehearsals today and got to chatting with the nice man who works there, Lance. I was telling him how I was a bit shocked about the lack of cell phone reception when I first got here, and he gave me the heads up on three spots where he is able to get a signal on his phone: the driveway of Basecamp (the local pub), the gas station (yes, Bear Valley only has one gas station: $2.99 an f*ing gallon!), and the intersection at the top of the trail leading to the beach right by my house. I tried the first two this afternoon but was unsuccessful. Damn you, Cingular! But I will try the beach spot tomorrow (seeing as how we have only a morning rehearsal and an evening concert, I have the entire midday to go relax by the lake ... ah, what a hard life this is...).
Also, my lack of oxygen intake was in full-force in our afternoon rehearsal today as I was not exactly in my peak physical condition. Long story short: violin party at my house last night, avoided it by going to Basecamp and having a STRONG gin & tonic with dinner (by the way, me and alcohol at this altitude: not smart ), dropped by the tent to catch some of the County Line Trio concert that was going on that night, came back home to find the house invaded by many crazy, drunken violinists and spent the rest of the night hibernating under the sheets in my bed up in the loft making excuses not to go with said crazy, drunken violinists down to the beach to build a bonfire. Needless to say, this afternoon's rehearsal was spent by me alternately playing bits of Debussy and Brahms and then putting my head between my legs in an attempt to not pass out from the lightheadedness.
It's also been fun/funny reuniting with some old faculty members from my undergrad who are also here in BV. Especially my old music history mentor, Dr. N, who was my own personal writing/grammar Nazi during my former life as a Music History major during my undergrad, and who plays horn in this festival. I was at a wine-tasting booth with him a couple of nights ago and I was instantly transformed back into my 19-year old self as he berated me for using "me" improperly instead of "I." And then he laughed as the wine-makers at the booth scolded me for having chewing gum in my mouth while I was tasting their wine. As Dr. N said, "Some things never change." (What was that supposed to mean?!)
Well, folks. I think that's pretty much it for my update. Hope you are all having a great summer!
* * *
Things Stubborn Tomato does when she visits her family in California:
1. Eat
2. Sleep
3. Drink coffee
4. Eat
5. Do tons of laundry... 'cause it's FREE!!!!
6. Raid my dad's CD collection
7. Eat
Having been essentially a college student for the past 7 years, it is always a (wonderfully pleasant) shock to my senses when, everytime I open the door to my parents' or sister's refrigerator, I find it completely full of delicious leftovers skillfully crafted the previous night or so from actual scratch ingredients by actual human beings. Instead of various processed food products made to eat directly out of the box or "cooked" in the microwave. Which is essentially what my diet has consisted of since August of 1998. Even during the last two weeks in BV, I consumed a frightening amount of instant noodles as, during the fateful morning of my departure for the music festival, I was hazily wandering the aisles of the local grocery store (As I was warned, you soon learn that eating out in Bear Valley involves a commitment of at least $20 for every meal, so, unless you want to spend your entire festival paycheck on food, musicians know to bring groceries from home...) completely distracted by my anxiety over the as-yet missing eb clarinet and trying to hold a conversation on the phone with Schmoobs. Hence, I ended up leaving for BV with grocery bags containing bananas, a bag of bagels and about 20 packages of Ramen instant noodles...
I didn't quite comprehend the horror of my situation until I got to BV and saw all the thoughtfully planned out foods my housemates had brought. Tons of fresh produce, pastas, etc. Luckily, my friend Erin was wonderful and pretty much fed me the whole time we were there. Thanks, E!
Anyway, I'm back here at the parents' house in SR and am well on my way to completely emptying out the contents of their fridge. It's glorious. I have to find something to do while I'm waiting for my (FREE!) laundry to finish, right? If I work efficiently enough, I will finish the job tomorrow morning in just enough time to drive to my sister's house in Sacramento and annihilate their food supply as well. MWAHAhahaha!!! I did enough walking in Bear Valley so I can afford to. Also, coffee (along with a variety of flavored creamers) is always abundant at both of these dwellings so, despite my annual springtime attempts to break free from the addiction, I always fly back to Knoxville completely dependent on the delicious delicious caffeinated liquid crack.
I'm not doing too badly, yet. It is still early in the afternoon of my first full day here and I've only had 3 cups.
Damnit.
* * *
September 2005
Back in K-town. I've decided to finally sit myself down and end this dry spell that I have been in since blissful visit home to California last month. Here is a list of the unbearably exciting things that have happened to me during the past couple of weeks:
1. I cut my hair!!!!!
Or I should say, my sister - with the assistance and critical eye of my 4-year old - cutest EVER!!!!!!! - niece (neice? neese? Ugh, I can't spell anymore...) - cut my hair. I believe I asked for a mere 3 inches to be taken off, and ended up with what seems like 10 inches gone. Hahaha. Just kidding, sis. My sister did a good job. I think it's a ratio thing, actually. Because 3 inches to a normal-sized human being probably wouldn't amount to much. Especially if their hair were as long and luxurious (and by "long and luxurious," I mean "gross and unmanageable") as mine was a few weeks ago. However, if you are a pocket-sized human like myself, I guess 3 inches just makes more of a difference. In any case, I have provided for you a very dramatic - and not at all exaggerated in any way - artistic rendering of my before-and-after:
Before.
In my made-up universe, my previous hair was so dead sexy that it literally shone with the light of a thousand stars. Especially when its unworldly power wasn't confined in a ponytail and was free to spread its beauty to everyone who happened to cross my path. In reality, however, I had neither the patience nor the energy to style my hair, so it was usually piled on the back of my head in some free-form hairball.
After.
Hahaha. Apparently, losing a few inches off my hair caused me to become a gap-toothed, crazy-eyed ogre. Damn.
2. I went on a Target excursion this afternoon.
Remember at the beginning of summer when I was so bored out of my mind that I went to Target everyday? And I would write about buying Kleenex and toilet paper because that was exciting in comparison to everything else I did that day? Yeah. Today I bought some Drano (even with the shorter hair, I still clog up the shower drain at an alarmingly fast rate!) and, uh, some feminine hygiene-related products... Classes at my alma mater have started and I'm actually jealous that people get to go to class everyday. Jealous. What the hell is wrong with me? All these years, I thought of myself as the type of carefree, relaxed person that would kill to have nothing to do all day. But apparently, I start to go crazy after two days of having no school or work. I'm like a shark, people! If I really were a shark, here is how I would look:
Ah hahahah hahahha. Dear God, I need help.
3. .....................
Ok, so a haircut and a visit to Target. These were the only things of any consequence that have happened lately. That explains why I haven't been updating this blog. This is really something. I haven't even been back to K-town more than a week and I'm already going out of my mind with boredom. I met with the band director of a nearby high school on Tuesday and I will be teaching clarinet there in a couple weeks. Yay! Also, I sent in an application to work a normal-person job (i.e. Stubborn Tomato's worst nightmare...) yesterday. So the good news is that I will probably have a couple of jobs soon. And the sooner the better because I have about 2 pennies left to my name (you think I'm exaggerating, don't you?) and 2 cents will only get you so far, especially with gas prices the way they are. Here is my personal thought about the increasing gas prices:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
So I think I'll be fine in about 3 weeks, both mentally and financially. The upside is that I have all the goddamn live-long day for the next few weeks to practice the devil stick.... and I actually am! Just let it be known that there is a fair chance that I may go clinically insane between now and the end of the month. The good thing is that if I do happen to become psychotic, it will give me something to write about.
* * *
Ok, so yesterday I had a job interview while soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel.
HA!
Let me clarify. When I returned to Tennessee from my glorious trip to the homeland, I sent in an application to work customer service at this company called the Jewelry Television Network. Basically, the job entails answering phone calls from rich old ladies who have nothing better to do with their money but buy ridiculously gaudy pieces of jewelry 24 hours a day from the comfort of their own home. The prospect of me working this job is humorous and/or tragic for a variety of reasons:
First of all, I hate hate hate working customer service. It's not that I think I'm above it in any way. In fact, I respect tremendously people that not only can do it, but do a good job at it. I've worked three or four different customer service jobs myself. And here is what I have learned from working said jobs: I am bad at it. Not just bad, but nightmarishly bad. Although those who know me may think I have a sunny enough disposition (Brother-in-law Greg, discount those first 5 or 6 years you were dating my sister and I had a perpetual scowl on my face...), the one thing I am frankly incapable of doing is behaving pleasantly when I. don't. want. to. Like when you're working and a customer is rude to you. For no reason. Now, a better person would be able to let it go and just continue to be as polite as was required minimally by common workplace decorum until that particular exchange was completed. I, however, am not one of those people and am completely unable to mask my feelings of utter disapproval and unappreciation for the lack of mutual respect and good manners shown on their part. I instantly become filled with a sense of duty, not just for myself, but for the whole community of customer service workers - I'll even go as far as to say, all of humanity - to let that person know that it is not okay to mess with me. I have provided for you here a dramatic re-enactment.
Actual past customer service run-in:
Me (17 years old, working for large video rental corporation): "Sir, this computer shows that you have a $(ridiculously low amount of money) balance on your account."
Bitter and petty evil customer with horns growing out of his skull: "That's a mistake. Take it off."
Me: "I'm sorry, I unfortunately don't have the authority to do that. Our system does show that xx movie was returned late on xx day."
Evil customer: "Um, no it doesn't."
Me: "Yes it does, sir. The screen is right in front of my face."
Evil customer: "WHAT, ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR??!! You're just an idiot who works in a video store. Now take the late fee off because I'm not paying it."
Me: "Are you seriously going to get in an argument with me over (ridiculously low amount of money) ?? I'm not lying. I don't care enough about this to lie about it! I'm telling you, this shows that you have a balance. Now, would you like to talk with my manager?"
Evil customer (storming out of store): "I'm going to call your manager and tell them that they have a liar working here."
Me (amused): "Alright, man..."
Do you see what I mean? I'm completely inept in this situation.
Oh, and other reasons why this Jewelry TV job will most likely prove to be a disaster? Not only do I hate talking on the phone, but I also have a severe case of Attention Deficit Disorder when it comes to work. Frankly, the mere thought of sitting for 9 hours at a time, performing the same menial task over and over (i.e. answering phone calls...) day in and day out is enough to make me break out in hives. I mean, it wouldn't be out of the question to find out that I tend to start arguments with customers, not just as a matter of principle, but because I'm bored and it's something to do. So in my reckoning, my avoidance of the customer service realm is really my generous way of doing any potential retail employee of mine a favor and saving them from my inevitable driving-away of any customers. Right?
Ugh. But at this particular juncture in my life, I need to suck it up and work any job I can get because:
a) My level of patheticism (?) has sunk so low that in the past week I had to call on my younger, computer-engineering brother more than once to help me out with some bills this month. If any amount of showering could cleanse me of my feelings of inadequacy and guilt about having to do this, I would be in the bathroom right now, scrubbing my shame away to my heart's content. However, as I have found this method to be ineffective, I will have to resort to working a nightmare job in order to pay him back, as well as give him a bonus gift as a token of my gratitude - namely, several suitcases full of Goo Goo Clusters.
b) Also, it is about damn time that I entered the adult portion of my life, completely and wholly, not just partially or temporarily, and finally start supporting myself once and for all - amidst much kicking and screaming, no doubt - without having to call on various wonderful and supportive and patient and understanding etc. etc. family members for help.
So anyway, back to my job interview.... I had been playing a lovely game of phone tag with my contact at the Jewelry TV Network for several days. Immediately after stepping out of the shower yesterday, I decided to try calling again for the 5th or 6th time that morning and actually got through! I was then told that, since I had applied for a call center position, I would have to do a phone interview. So I did it right then. Pretty easy and harmless, of course. The highlight of the interview, by the way, was when the interviewer was reviewing my application with me and this happened:
Interviewer: "Alright, and do you have a high school diplom-- .........oh."
Ahhahah ahaha ha haha. I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry in devastation.
The good thing is, if this job really is a nightmare (and who knows, maybe it won't be....), I can quit the job as soon as I can get enough private students to make a living. Until then, if I do get hired by the Jewelry TV Network, I will be working 5 days a week (2 of which have to be Saturday and Sunday) from 3-11pm everyday. Try to imagine how much I will be loathing life at that point. But, as has been the musician's mantra since time immemorial: "Hey, as long as it pays the bills..."
Sigh.
Well, at least I'll have my teaching gig at the high school to help me keep some modicum of self-respect. In the meantime, I will try to get in as few fights with rich little old ladies as possible. But I offer no promises.
* * *
UPDATE: I have been rejected by the Jewelry Television Network.Let us all have a moment of silence for my dignity, as it has now totally shriveled into non-existence.
This may or may not be worse than the time I was rejected during my freshman year of college for re-hire by Blockbuster Video -- for whom I worked all through-out high school -- because I failed to pass their computer questionnaire. C'mon guys. I mean, 30 pages of psychological/personality questions? I can fake a good personality for 10, maybe 15, pages. But any more than that is out of the question.
Imagine this hypothetical situation and respond:
Question number 274 million: At work, a customer you are helping is being rude and offensive. Your response is to maintain a professional attitude and continue to behave pleasantly as though you have no soul nor any standards for social behavior. Agree or disagree?
Disagree.
Disagree disagree disagree forever and ever.
And I offer no aplogies. I have standards.
Anyway, here's the thing: the Jewelry TV job only involved a 5-minute phone interview. I undoubtedly displayed my prowess with the English language during said interview. And I was polite/personable enough. What could it possibly have been, then?
My attainment of - not only a high-school diploma - but two f*ing college degrees may have been just too much for them to handle. Or perhaps one of their Jewelry TV trolls happened upon one of my recent blog entries and feared my potential for fisticuffs with old ladies. Whatever. I'm sure this is for the best in the long run. Because, truly, I would have lasted 4 hours into my first day in that job before I would have thrown myself out the nearest window. But it was fun entertaining the thought of my working that job in any case. And the prospect of finally earning money again was good while it lasted. But the fact remains that I need a job. And fast! Gah!
In related news, I had my clarinet masterclass (aka. none-too-subtly veiled attempt to recruit private students for my studio...) at the high school earlier today. It was a good time. It's been a while since I've taught beginner/intermediate level students - let alone a group of them - so it took me about 20 minutes to warm up and settle into a groove. Before too long, though, I felt them starting to warm up to me and vice-versa. We talked mostly about breathing and tone development through long-tone exercises, and also touched upon embouchure and finger/hand position. It was hard since I had only an hour to work with them and I had several things I wanted to cover. By the way, my personal highlight of the masterclass was at the end of the hour when I asked if anybody had any clarinet-related questions for me, and a little red-headed kid in the back asked, "Can you play Star Wars?" Little boy, if you only knew.... Oh, and also after the masterclass ended and the students had left the auditorium, two maintenance guys came up to me and were like, "Are you a student here?" Hahaha. Boy, that never gets old, let me tell you.
Anyway, so we'll see if any of the kids liked/was impressed by me enough to call me up for lessons. And they better, if they know what's good for them.
In short, my little facade about being good-natured about this penniless/starving artist's life I have going on must apparently continue for at least a little while longer. Blah. This is getting very old very fast. My next two job prospects are:
a) Coordinator/receptionist for a beauty salon
pro: free haircuts!
con: intermingling with catty beauty salon folk
b) Nanny for newborn and toddler
pro: $300 a week! I'd be rolling in riches with that kind of wage!
con: I think you can all imagine... (hint: it rhymes with boobie vipers)
And so the ongoing quest for employment continues............
* * *
I spent the majority of the day yesterday a complete basketcase in regards to my complete lack of direction/money/job in life. What's new, eh? Fortunately I was able to clear my head a little bit by getting out of the apartment and having dinner with pals Ben, Josh and April at Applebees. By the way, in hindsight I realized that I had ordered a queso and chips appetizer for us to share, but it wasn't on my check. I wonder if it ended up on somebody else's check and they were just too polite or nice or clueless to say anything. I hope it was just left out of order altogether because then I won't feel bad. I worry about these things.
So anyway, I got out of bed this morning fully determined to get over my customer service/non-music job issues, tackle the classifieds and get employed at any cost. It was a futile attempt, however, since, with every job listing that I analyzed as a possibility, my overactive imagination took over and I kept visualizing myself working said waitressing or receptionist job and being in various states of life-hatred. I was going to drop by Baker Peters (a jazz club/restaurant here) because they were hiring hostesses and servers a while ago, but they apparently no longer have any openings. (See, I was able to reconcile working that job in my head because at least the place where I would be serving food was related to music.) Honestly, if I think about, I would rather work just delivering pizzas because the level-of-pay to customer-interaction ratio is relatively low. But the thought of the door opening and a former professor or student seeing me delivering their pizza is enough to make me pee in my pants. Plus, I don't want to deface my precious 2000 VW Golf Lucky by placing a Papa John's or Pizza Hut sign on his roof. That is just too much. Am I being unreasonable? I probably am. That's the problem with having too much pride, I guess. I'm finding it's not always a good thing...
In other news, I have recently succumbed to the evil temptation and joined Facebook. For those not in the know, Facebook is this laaaaame online network at colleges where students post info about themselves, put people on their "friends" list, etc. etc. I guess it's designed to help you get to know people at your school or something. I thought (and still do) that it's the lamest thing ever -- especially now that I'm an alumni -- , but I've been so bored lately (as you all know) and the computer is my only friend during the majority of the week, so I did it. Although I may have an overloaded sense of pride, I apparently have no shame. Go figure.
In any case, most people pride themselves on how many "friends" they have on their list. Like, "Ooh, I have 367 friends on Facebook!" Whatever. I have 11, thank you. But at least I've actually spoken to all of them. So there. (In confession, this is largely because I refuse to tell people that I am actually on Facebook now and only put people on my list if they find me. This is due in part to residual feelings of resistance to Facebook, and probably also because I am lazy.)
* * *
Good news (for me as well as you, reader)!! My recent foray into the dark abyss of depression spurred on by graduation + unemployment + loneliness + lack of musical/creative/etc. outlet + inability to fuel my Target obsession (caused by said unemployment) is nearing the end of its span. See, here's the thing with me: when I get upset about something, it's best to just let me be upset for a while. Let me pout and sulk and be otherwise completely unpleasant to be around (the majority of my penitence goes to Schmoobs, at whom I am very pleased - and surprised - for not breaking up with me after my umpteenth day of suddenly bursting into tears with no foreseeable warning), and one day I will wake up and just be done with it. Like right now! Cheers!
I would like to think that I am feeling better because things are slowly but surely looking up on the music/job front. Not only do I now have a gig lined up with a nearby middle school band doing a few sectional rehearsals with their clarinets every week, but one of these students will also be studying privately with me starting next Monday. Huzzah! A trillion thanks to Tiffany for lining me up with this. And thanks to Schmoobliedoos, I was able to tag along to the local high school marching band exhibition last night where I spoke to a couple of other area band directors who, apparently, are very interested in having me teach their clarinets privately. Huzzah again! The challenge now is to keep these band directors on top of this prospect and - most importantly - convince the parents to fork over the Benjaminz for clarinet lessons. Ha. So I have fixed up a fancy-schmany packet to mail out to local band programs to shamelessly promote myself as the World's Best Clarinet Teacher. It comes complete with my cool little business cards and a personal flier boasting my numerous qualifications (basically summing up to: 'Look, I got myself I damned Master's degree in music performance.... now HIRE ME!!'). I am so proud of my Microsoft Paint/Word-enabled creations that - if I knew how to scan things onto this computer - I would scan them and post them on this blog. But I don't. Oh well.
So all that aside, here's the more likely reason why I'm coming out of my funk: Simpsons re-runs now air every midnight here instead of 5pm. This means that every night before I go to bed, I can watch the Simpsons followed right after by Conan O'Brien. Brilliant! Best hour and a half of television viewing before bedtime... EVER! Speaking of which, it is now almost time for Simpsons. Smell ya later!
* * *
Happy Birthday to my mommie dearest!
In celebration, let me serenade her with this:
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Bearer-of-the-golden-womb-from-which-this-magnificent-creature-sprang-fooooooorrrrth
Happy Birthday toooo yooouuuu!!!
Hahahaha.
She is the greatest mother in the whole universe -- and I say this in great part because she has not once, in my 25 years of existence, thought of disowning me - at least, not in my knowledge - even through my countless requests for *ahem* financial assistance (I call them "loans"; she laughs and plays along) and, relatedly, my decision to become a musician. Although, in all fairness, she does not need to bemoan my decision to choose music as my lifeblood as I am proving to be quite competent in giving myself enough grief for that personal choice. In fact, if it were possible, I think I would go ahead and disown myself.
In other news, I had my first day working with the clarinet kiddies over at the middle school today. It was quite enjoyable, surprisingly enough. I still struggle every now and then with remembering that I am talking to really young children, some of whom have only been playing the clarinet for about a month, but I'm sure (I hope) I will get used to that at some point. It really is a shock going from teaching college students to 6th and 7th graders. The level of hyperactivity and potential chaos buzzing in a room full of these kids is quite...something. Let's just say that if I can get through these first several weeks without hurling one of the more attention-span-deficient children out of a nearby window, I will be very proud of myself.
The best part? Being taller than (or at least the same height as.....ugh) most of the kids. Hurray! It was also funny being told by a little 7th grader that a) she liked my jeans, and b) it was nice to see a teacher that actually had a "sense of style." Ha! I also had my first private lesson with an 8th grader named Farrah who is blind. She is an awesome kid who you can tell has a wonderful attitude, so I'm excited about working with her. As long as she can get through these first few weeks of me getting into my teaching groove and bumbling my way through the first few lessons, I think we will work out wonderfully. Huzzah to that.
So I have something relevant to do with myself on Mondays now. Praise Jesus, Hallelujah!! Tomorrow I am going to drop by the Starbucks in the Hilton downtown to ask (plead, beg, etc.) for a job. As I was telling my mother earlier, this particular Starbucks seems to be the best of my options in town as a) it offers the least likely chance of me running into (and having to serve...blah) an ex-colleague or professor, and b) with the Hilton being one of the swankier hotels in town, I can use my charm (I have some in me somewhere, I swear) to milk some good tips out of the inevitable wealthy businessmen. Ah, nothing like unemployment to obliterate one's shame and/or dignity.
ps. The West Wing now airs on Sundays at 8pm, which has been the much-celebrated Simpsons time-slot for, like, ever. And because Schoombz is a West Wing nazi, this means that I have not been able to watch any of the new Simpsons' so far this season. Unacceptable, I say!!! Stupid West Wing. Anyway, how have the Simpsons eps been so far? At least I have my midnight reruns during the week. Sigh.
* * *
Submitted my application to work at the Hilton Star*ucks downtown this morning. Actually, I went in there yesterday and spoke to Neil, the guy working there, who gave me the heads up that the manager was going to be in this morning and that I should hand my application in then so she can meet me in person. So I met the manager today who seemed really excited about the prospect of me working there. Mainly because I told her I would be willing to work any shift .... even the one that starts at 5:30 in the f*ing morning (I didn't phrase it quite that way, of course). Anyway, she said the hiring process at that Star*ucks is through the Hilton, so I have to wait for their HR department to look it over. Hopefully they won't get freaked out by the fact that I have a Masters degree (like all the other damned places I've applied at....) and I can start working soon. I am pretty hopeful about getting this job for a few reasons:
1) At the end of the application, there was a space for me to write any other comments and so I took the opportunity to explain there that, yes, while I do have a graduate college degree (No, despite any previous plans to just leave out the fact that I have a Masters in hopes of getting hired more easily, I just couldn't get myself to do it. It took quite a bit of work to get that f*ing diploma and I'll be damned if I have to hide it! ....Maybe after a couple more rejections...) , I am still living the existence of a poor, decrepit clarinetist and would really appreciate the opportunity to work there. Also, I am a hard worker and can have a good personality if I have to (especially if I'm getting paid to have one...ha).
2) I have flexible hours. Very flexible hours.
3) This Neil character was flirting shamelessly (and none-too-subtly, I might add) while I was chatting him up about the job. In addition to the free chai latte I scored, I am hoping that he will put a good word in for me with the manager as well. (Have I mentioned how effective being desperate for a job is at completely obliterating any semblance of one's previously well-intact dignity?)
So, we'll see how this particular job prospect pans out. ......They better hire me!!! AAAUUGGHHH!!!!!!
* * *
I just ate a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. It has been the most glorious moment of my day thus far because, instead of using the same wheat bread which I have been eating ever since they told us that white bread is the food of the devil, I threw caution to the wind and made my sandwich with two pieces of the delicious devil bread toasted to perfection. For those of you who don't use toast for their pb sandwiches, you don't know what you're missing. See, when you spread the peanut butter on the toast straight out of the toaster, the peanut butter becomes all warm and melty and tasty.
Well, anyway, the sandwich did nothing but fuel my hunger even further and now I am fighting the urge to drive to the nearby McDonald's to purchase some evil-in-the-sense-that-it-tickles-your-taste-buds-while-slowly-killing-you-on-the-inside fast food. I mean, when you're on a tight budget, what can beat spending a measly $2 (plus tax. ugh.) for a double cheeseburger and medium fries? CURSE YOU, MCDONALD'S AND THE DAMNED INEXPENSIVE CONVENIENCE OF YOUR DOLLAR MENU! Anyway, I really really shouldn't because I went there for lunch yesterday. And having that type of food two days in a row just can't be good for your innards.
Ugh, I could cook up some bacon, toast (Mmmmmm....white bread toast! Again!) and eggs (because that is quite literally the entire contents of the kitchen right now), but as I explained to Sarah P. just moments ago, I hate making bacon and then smelling like bacon for the rest of the day. Although, as most of you know, I do have quite an unhealthy (or is it really that unhealthy?) obsession with showering, so that would provide me with an excuse to cleanse myself for the second time today.....
* * *
End of Part I. Stay tuned for the next installment!
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