So, I have survived my first week of my second semester of college. But barely. As soon as I got back on campus (literally, the night I got back) I got sick. Again. I ended up getting something that, according to my mom and brother (who yes, I texted pictures of my throat to), looked like mono or tonsilitis. I had a strep test come back negative though, so whatever it was was viral. But I had a difficult time breathing because I had congestion and my throat was slowly closing up due to my swelling tonsils. :( Add to that having a fever which stayed between 100 and 102.6 for a few days. I barely made it through all of my classes all week (trying to do soprano I choir hearings with a closed up throat was not fun. At all). But today, I'm feeling a lot better. And a few things dawned on me. First off, I'm weak and I'm very sickly. And I know that. In fact, although I'm feeling much better today, I woke up with blurred vision and another back spasm deal. And my neck has been having some minor spasms these past few days too. And it's like, I've realized that I have a really really weak system. Not only that, but I'm extremely weak. In all ways. Emotionally, physically, mentally (my roommate and I were laughing at all of the ditzy things I do this evening), and even in my piano playing. Sure, I love piano, but as much as I hate to say it, my friend Nikita has a legitimate point when he brags off and claims that I can't play the pieces he can. He's right. It's not that I can't play them. I can, as far as reading the notes go. They just don't sound as good because physically, I'm not capable of producing really loud tones on the piano. My small hands don't let me reach huge chords. Sure, the light delicate stuff sounds pretty and makes people cry. But sometimes, it does get to me that pieces which I LOVE to hear, I'm completely incapable of playing because of the physical limitations I have. And when I'm sick, I realize that I'm even weaker than weak. I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day, and she was saying she was considering pulling me out of college because of how sick I seem to be getting. And that when I get sick, it's not just a cold. It's a life or death issue. And my body pulls every little bit of strength it can from everywhere in my body. Including my back and neck. And even my eyeballs. And I even had a freak-out night where I was bawling and my roommate wouldn't let me go to bed until I told her what was wrong. I told her I already had so little space left in my throat and that I was scared that my throat would just close up on me during the night and that I'd lay in bed helpless and suffocating and that I really wasn't scared of dying, but I just didn't wanna die a really slow painful death like that. And I ended up reflecting on my life, and considering that in the past year, I believe that (thank the Lord, of course) a lot of things have been made right in my life within the past 6 months. Namely my relationship with my parents. So I just prayed that if I died, that the Lord would take me in my sleep and not let me die of suffocation. I know it probably seems like I'm just being dramatic. But until you realize your next breath is truly not promised, you don't know if oxygen can even pass through your throat to your lungs, and that breath isn't something to take for granted, you don't realize that life is just a handbreadth. You don't realize that your last moment could be now. And with me, I'm so constantly sick that it just seems like I don't have a choice but to live as if every day were my last. And I also realized something today as I was walking to my dorm. There's a slight valley from the student center to the dorm. And it was quite chilly this evening. And windy. And for the first time, I realized that sometimes, like in the winter, or when it's windy, I WANT to be in the valley. To get shielded from the wind, and the snow, and the cold. To get shielded from everything that's "up there". And I thought about how in my spiritual life, so often I pray, "Oh Lord, take me out of this valley!! You've led me here, I hate it here, it's too hard here, I want to be UP THERE! You don't know what you're doing!" And I know He hears my ignorant cries. Like when I'm sick and praying for health. But sometimes, He keeps me in the valley anyway. To shield me from the chaos that resides "up there". He knows what He's doing. And whenever I'm in the valley, I resist at first, but somehow, He always draws me closer to Himself. When I'm in bed feeling like I'm on my deathbed, staring at my dorm room door just hoping and praying that perhaps someone will come in just to talk to me, I realize that I have the Lord to talk to. All the time. And I'm forced to talk to Him. It's sorta like God's "grounding" period for me. Like when I'm grounded at home, eventually, I'm forced to talk things out with my parents. Because I have no other option. I have no one else to talk to. And a lot of times, that's the way God works too. And although I hate going through it, I love the outcome. I love feeling close to Him. I love knowing that He's my best friend. Anyway, I have theory homework to get on (yay for sightreading a viola cleff!).
Later,
Rachel
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
On the nature of music.....
Today I had the most epic five-minute experience of my life. I got to play on the Ordway Center's main stage. My mom and I came to the Ordway because they were having their 25-year celebration. They had a "25-seconds of fame" deal (which ended up being more like 2 or 3 minutes.... or as many minutes as you wanted if no one else was waiting in line) where anyone could get on the Ordway stage and play whatever they wanted. Or sing. My mom wanted me to sing, but I didn't wanna. Yet, I remembered the time she told me to get Coach boots at Herberger's that were on sale for $10. I didn't wanna because I'd never heard of the brand. She told me I'd regret it, but I didn't know what the brand "Coach" was (gimme a break, I was 12), so I didn't get them. Guess who regrets not getting those Coach boots to this day? And I figured, just like the Coach boots, I'd probably regret not singing. Because she wanted me to. So what do you do when you have 5 minutes to decide on a song to sing or a piece to play? I debated between Jars of Clay's "The Valley Song" and Debussy's Clair De Lune. I decided to sing first. And a reporter from the Pioneer Press took my picture while I was playing/singing. After I finished, he told me that was great and said that Jars of Clay is a great group and he did a semi-interview with me. I told him I wanted to be a concert pianist; that I mainly play classical music but that I sang because my mom wanted me to. He asked me what it felt like to be up there. On the Ordway stage. And that's when it hit me.
What did it feel like? I thought for a minute and then responded with, "Not as bad as I thought it'd be." He laughed and said, "Well besides not bad, how did it feel?" Honestly, it didn't feel. I was nervous about getting up there because of the 30ish people that were watching me. And because I have a fear of extremely large concert halls (and small enclosed) spaces. But then he asked me, "Or how did you think it would feel?" I told him I thought it'd be scary. I've always thought that if someone was performing, they'd see the thousands of people out of the corner of their eye, freak out, and continue playing just because they had to because they had a sold out show. And because they wanted to show off all the years of dedication and talent it took to get there. But honestly, on stage, I couldn't really see the auditorium. Like the lights were so bright that I couldn't see anything out of the corner of my eye. And as far as what I felt? I felt music. I felt calm. I felt like nothing else could really make me happier than to call a stage like that my home. It was THE most amazing five minutes of my life. And then I went back up about 20 minutes later to play Clair De Lune.
But something struck me while I was waiting to sing. A cellist who looked about 40-ish years old got up there to play some cello piece. She didn't play all the right notes. A lot of them were actually wrong. And her tempo was way off; in fact, I didn't really know if she had an internal tempo going on in her head. The whole thing seemed to be a muddled mess of rubato followed my accelerando. But it dawned on me that perhaps 20 years ago, she was where I was. For all I know, she could've even been a Juilliard graduate. But maybe somewhere down the line, she gave up. Or got discouraged. Or figured that graduating from college was more important than loving music. And I thought about Lucia Micarelli, who I consider one of the best concert violinists of the 21st century. I watched a youtube video of her. And she's a college dropout. She went to Juilliard and then the Manhattan school of music. She said she dropped out because she realized, she just LOVED music and college was only making her love it less and less. She said all she wanted to do was play. And play. And play. But that she had rent to pay, and living in NYC, rent doesn't come cheap. So she took all the gigs that she could. And ended up where she is today. A world-traveling soloist. And I thought about where I'm at at Westminster. Last semester was insane. The time it takes to be a music major is like having a full time job on top of 17 credits. I can see why so many people switch majors or drop out or go to non-music schools. It's not mentally challenging, but it is VERY tiring. And I realized, I don't want to necessarily be a college dropout. But for the next couple of years, I will stick to the 12-14 credits and see what happens. Because I want to take time to not only perfect music for juries and my lessons, but to play music. For fun. Because I love it and because I think it's beautiful, not because someone else tells me to play it to meet a requirement. So even though I dunno if I'll be in the Pioneer Press tomorrow morning or make a debut at the Ordway Center 3 years from now, I know that I want to play music. And play. And play. I want to touch the piano keys. I want to hear the warm sounds of a 7 chord. I want to feel the calm that comes with playing a Chopin Nocturne, and the rush of adrenaline that comes with playing the Diabolic Inspiration by Prokofiev. I want to not feel. To not feel anything but music rushing through me. And I want to do whatever it takes to get that feeling. Later,
Rachel
What did it feel like? I thought for a minute and then responded with, "Not as bad as I thought it'd be." He laughed and said, "Well besides not bad, how did it feel?" Honestly, it didn't feel. I was nervous about getting up there because of the 30ish people that were watching me. And because I have a fear of extremely large concert halls (and small enclosed) spaces. But then he asked me, "Or how did you think it would feel?" I told him I thought it'd be scary. I've always thought that if someone was performing, they'd see the thousands of people out of the corner of their eye, freak out, and continue playing just because they had to because they had a sold out show. And because they wanted to show off all the years of dedication and talent it took to get there. But honestly, on stage, I couldn't really see the auditorium. Like the lights were so bright that I couldn't see anything out of the corner of my eye. And as far as what I felt? I felt music. I felt calm. I felt like nothing else could really make me happier than to call a stage like that my home. It was THE most amazing five minutes of my life. And then I went back up about 20 minutes later to play Clair De Lune.
But something struck me while I was waiting to sing. A cellist who looked about 40-ish years old got up there to play some cello piece. She didn't play all the right notes. A lot of them were actually wrong. And her tempo was way off; in fact, I didn't really know if she had an internal tempo going on in her head. The whole thing seemed to be a muddled mess of rubato followed my accelerando. But it dawned on me that perhaps 20 years ago, she was where I was. For all I know, she could've even been a Juilliard graduate. But maybe somewhere down the line, she gave up. Or got discouraged. Or figured that graduating from college was more important than loving music. And I thought about Lucia Micarelli, who I consider one of the best concert violinists of the 21st century. I watched a youtube video of her. And she's a college dropout. She went to Juilliard and then the Manhattan school of music. She said she dropped out because she realized, she just LOVED music and college was only making her love it less and less. She said all she wanted to do was play. And play. And play. But that she had rent to pay, and living in NYC, rent doesn't come cheap. So she took all the gigs that she could. And ended up where she is today. A world-traveling soloist. And I thought about where I'm at at Westminster. Last semester was insane. The time it takes to be a music major is like having a full time job on top of 17 credits. I can see why so many people switch majors or drop out or go to non-music schools. It's not mentally challenging, but it is VERY tiring. And I realized, I don't want to necessarily be a college dropout. But for the next couple of years, I will stick to the 12-14 credits and see what happens. Because I want to take time to not only perfect music for juries and my lessons, but to play music. For fun. Because I love it and because I think it's beautiful, not because someone else tells me to play it to meet a requirement. So even though I dunno if I'll be in the Pioneer Press tomorrow morning or make a debut at the Ordway Center 3 years from now, I know that I want to play music. And play. And play. I want to touch the piano keys. I want to hear the warm sounds of a 7 chord. I want to feel the calm that comes with playing a Chopin Nocturne, and the rush of adrenaline that comes with playing the Diabolic Inspiration by Prokofiev. I want to not feel. To not feel anything but music rushing through me. And I want to do whatever it takes to get that feeling. Later,
Rachel
Monday, January 4, 2010
New Start
I haven't written on here for a while, mainly out of busyness. But I'm glad that at least for the next two weeks, I can relax, if only a little bit. This past semester proved to be very difficult, but I thank the Lord that I made it through. At the beginning of October, I had back spasms which sent me to the ER and made me miss half a week of classes. Then I got a really bad cold/flu deal right afterwards. Then I got a series of fevers, and nosebleeds, and I ended up missing another week of classes. Then when I came home for Thanksgiving, due to flight schedules, I missed two days of classes. Needless to say, in college, missing two weeks of classes in a semester REALLY puts you behind. There are the professors that understood and didn't count the absences against me since I still managed to get my homework done. Yet, I really started hating being forced to miss classes because I realized that even missing one day put me really far behind, and I had to try to digest the material on my own. On top of that (and partially because of that), I was living off of 2-6 hours of sleep every night. I can probably count on one hand how many days I got in bed (and stayed in bed without my roommie bringing in people or having friends come in and tell me, "It's only 1 a.m. What are you doing in bed already?!") before midnight. Then there was the stress towards the end of the semester of finals, and being asked out by two of the 4 available straight guys in freshman class and having a very difficult time saying no. Then there was the difficulty of being encouraged by Bible study, but having that encouragement slapped down by the way people lived their lives. And there was the stress of walking in on my roommate having drinking parties in our room and asking her to leave, even though I'd already discussed with her that I don't want any drinking in the room. There was the stress of feeling alone a lot, because as people got to know who I really am, they started dividing from me. At first, everyone was cool with me being "the quiet girl", but as I started to speak up based on conviction, people (including professors) got really irritated at me. One day, I had my English professor debate abortion with me in front of my entire writing class for 45 minutes. Then a few classes later, he proceeded to dissect my paper against abortion in front of the class (although since it was an opinionated research essay, he ended up being the one looking pretty silly because he could only debate that I didn't include anything about tax money spent on foster care and add that my thesis statement should be at the end of the paper, not the beginning). However, as fretful as I was about that, the Lord ended up turning that around as well, and I ended up doing really well in the course. Piano last semester was interesting though. I felt like I was every other major except for piano. The coursework kept me so busy that I hardly had any time to practice. I was really nervous about my jury, but thankfully it went alright. Despite all the trials this past semester, the Lord has really been good to me. He's granted me the ability to say "no" (I swear, that two-letter word is the hardest word to come out of my mouth. Saying it seriously makes me want to cry), and if I've learned nothing else this semester, I'm thankful for that.
This semester, things will be a bit different. I'm going to be getting a new roommate (who is also a Christian and has the same moral standards as me.... in fact, she seems even a bit more strict on some things than I am, which is totally cool).I am thinking of dropping one of my courses, since 17 credits last semester drove me insane. It's impossible to be expected to study and do well in the humanities courses and spend 4 to 5 hours a day practicing piano. Yet, I need 4 to 5 hours a day to practice piano, especially this semester considering that I have three competitions I'd like to enter (2 of which I am definitely entering) and my pieces this semester are a lot more difficult than they were last semester (although they still probably aren't as difficult as they could be). On top of possibly dropping a course, I plan to add a minor in arts administration. I figure that at least if I have a minor in administration, then if things go downhill with music and I can't get a job as a performer or an orchestral accompanist (although I really pray that doesn't happen), at least I'd be able to get a job with a decent paycheck. I've also decided against minoring in voice, because a minor won't mean anything but more coursework for me, and since I'm already singing in choir and voice class at least 7 hours a week, it really wouldn't add very much of a bonus. I'm also praying about what to do this upcoming summer. I really want to come back home, and so I'm looking for any performing opportunities (or accompanying opportunities) possible. I have 2 church pianist jobs set up so far if I do come back home. Yet it seems like all of the great music opportunities are on the East Coast, so part of me wants to stay in New Jersey. On top of that, I don't have a piano teacher here, and if I did get one, there's the whole deal of having to either drive to the U of Minnesota or MacPhail Center for the Arts every week of the summer for lessons. There's just so much to consider. Anyway, I really need to practice, but I will try to keep this blog updated much better this year (It's one of my resolutions, along with writing in my diary every day, regardless of how busy or tired I am :D)!
Later,
Rachel
This semester, things will be a bit different. I'm going to be getting a new roommate (who is also a Christian and has the same moral standards as me.... in fact, she seems even a bit more strict on some things than I am, which is totally cool).I am thinking of dropping one of my courses, since 17 credits last semester drove me insane. It's impossible to be expected to study and do well in the humanities courses and spend 4 to 5 hours a day practicing piano. Yet, I need 4 to 5 hours a day to practice piano, especially this semester considering that I have three competitions I'd like to enter (2 of which I am definitely entering) and my pieces this semester are a lot more difficult than they were last semester (although they still probably aren't as difficult as they could be). On top of possibly dropping a course, I plan to add a minor in arts administration. I figure that at least if I have a minor in administration, then if things go downhill with music and I can't get a job as a performer or an orchestral accompanist (although I really pray that doesn't happen), at least I'd be able to get a job with a decent paycheck. I've also decided against minoring in voice, because a minor won't mean anything but more coursework for me, and since I'm already singing in choir and voice class at least 7 hours a week, it really wouldn't add very much of a bonus. I'm also praying about what to do this upcoming summer. I really want to come back home, and so I'm looking for any performing opportunities (or accompanying opportunities) possible. I have 2 church pianist jobs set up so far if I do come back home. Yet it seems like all of the great music opportunities are on the East Coast, so part of me wants to stay in New Jersey. On top of that, I don't have a piano teacher here, and if I did get one, there's the whole deal of having to either drive to the U of Minnesota or MacPhail Center for the Arts every week of the summer for lessons. There's just so much to consider. Anyway, I really need to practice, but I will try to keep this blog updated much better this year (It's one of my resolutions, along with writing in my diary every day, regardless of how busy or tired I am :D)!
Later,
Rachel
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