Tales from a Whale's Belly

Thanksgiving

2010-11-27T00:54:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I spent it with some friends and had a great time, but we didn't observe a tradition I've come to enjoy the last few years. You see, I like it when we go around the table and everyone talks about something they have been thankful for in the last year. So, because I didn't get to do it on the actual day, and since I am the only one around this particular table at the moment, here is a partial list of the things I am thankful for.

1. Health. Really, if you don't have this, everything else doesn't matter all that much. I have had a good year, in general. I give thanks for decent health care, including the flu shot and whooping cough vaccine that helped me out. Also, I'm grateful to have a lifestyle that allows me to sleep a respectable amount of hours every night, eat food that's good for me (not all the time, though), and moderately exercise.

2. A Network of Supportive Family and Friends. From the time I was born, I was blessed with a family who supports me, no matter how kooky my choices may seem. As I have gotten older, I have had the luxury of surrounding myself with people who have a positive influence on me and who I enjoy spending time with. Also, in the last few years, I've gotten better at asking for and accepting help from the people who love me.

3. A Job. We all know it's crap out there now. It's getting better, sure, but it has been a load off my mind to have a job that not only pays the rent and bills, but that I actually enjoy doing.

4. Writing. So, after finishing my second novel a year ago, I've done absolutely nothing to get it out there. Still, I'm keeping at it. Over the summer, I wrote quite a bit of a new novel and I've been working on this academic book I have a contract(!) for. I still hold out hope for the day when I can teach a little less and write a little more. And when I have an agent (or the time to find one).

5. Conferences. One of my favorite ways to travel. I love visiting a new city for the first time because I'm attending a conference there. About a month ago, I got to go to Indianapolis for the AMS, and I know Indiana doesn't sound like Vegas, but I'd never been there before (and probably wouldn't have ended up there any other way), and I thought it was charmant!

6. Me Lunches. On days when I don't have classes to teach, sometimes I like to take myself out to lunch. People do this every day, I understand, but I've been packing my own lunch for years. I figure I deserve lunch out once in a while. And I like to indulge whatever whim I have. If that means driving a few extra miles to get to the particular restaurant where I want to eat, so be it.

7. Football. American and European. I've been enjoying most of USC's season (but Oy, Oregon), but there have been some heartbreakers too. I also loved the World Cup this summer. I really enjoy watching my teams play.

8. My New Apartment. I can walk to work. Need I say more? Also, there's just a zen-like peace that goes along with the place. I have no idea why. It's just instantly calming when I walk inside.

9. Boardwalk Empire. I just. I love this show. Everybody in it is excellent, and I really love that the characters talk like people did back then. Nucky called someone "Johnny on the spot" a couple of weeks ago. That rocks!

10. Crafts. I made Halloween lollipops this year and I hope to do the same for the December holidays. Also, I spent many hours today making my holiday cards. There is something very soothing about designing and creating something and then sharing it with people you love.

Too Much Stuff

2010-11-21T10:18:00.000-08:00

When all of your belongings are in closets, tucked away on shelves, or in cabinets, it's hard to assess how much stuff you actually have. When you have to pack everything into boxes, however, you suddenly realize that you've been accumulating stuff without even realizing it. I moved about a month and a half ago. Once again, I was surprised at how many boxes were required to do the job. And I was actively trying to get rid of stuff, for many reasons. First, all of my previous moves in California were into successively bigger apartments, and as everyone knows, the more space you have, the more space you use. My latest move was a lateral one. The square footage of the old and new apartments ended up being about the same, although the rooms are different sizes. I needed to get rid of some furniture that just wouldn't work in the new place. Second, I started to question just what I needed to own, and what I could do without.

I thinned out my book collection and donated the music books to my school library. I gave the rest to Goodwill. I thinned out my CD collection, trading about 150 in at Amoeba. I recycled old magazines, and finally donated of the clothes I never wear anymore. It was such a great experience to feel that I was freeing myself of these possessions, but that they were perhaps going to help other people. (They also weren't going to end up in a landfill.) Maybe some young woman with a job interview will find that cute purple suit at Goodwill. Maybe some student at LACC will take one of those donated books out of the library and decide they want to study Music History. It could happen!

The most unexpected thing about doing all this donating was a shift in my own perspective about buying new things. There are a couple of things I've been buying used for years. If I'm buying a CD (and not downloading from iTunes), I go to Amoeba first. If I want to buy a book, I buy used from alibris and private sellers on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. But I'm trying not to buy books at all. I already have too many. Don't get me wrong, I love books. I love them so much, but that doesn't mean that I have to have a library full of books in my living room--we actually have libraries to keep books for us. Books are heavy and hard to move. And even thinning out my collection to just the books I think I need (for research and program notes) and my favorites, I still have 2 and a half big bookcases full! I also don't feel I need a physical CD of music unless it has special artwork or something unique.

I used to buy all of my electronics new, but when I needed to replace a camera, the internet made it easy to find a good used camera for a fraction I would have paid for a new one. But it's not so much that price is an issue, although it's wonderful to save money, it's the idea that I'm using something that's already out there. In my humble opinion, there's just too much stuff out there already. I have too much stuff, you probably have too much stuff. And for what? What do we need it all for?

I'm getting to the place where I can justify my ownership of the things I have. I need these books for research, for example. Or I keep only the clothes I wear frequently. But I think I still have too much. I know I'm going to move a few more times before I settle some place I'm going to stay. But also, even if I move into a big house ten years from now, will I really need to fill it with crap? Even if I live to be a hundred, someone's going to have to figure out what to do with my stuff after I die. I want that to be an easy job.

There are two more issues that I need to weigh in on. One is the idea that we're moving towards a Cloud-based information system. In a Cloud-based system, all of your information lives "on a cloud" that you can then access. All of your documents and pictures and music won't sit on your hard drive anymore or on paper in file cabinets. They'll be accessible from anywhere. I like this idea, but I'm wary about Cloud security, although I'm all for keeping digital versions of things rather than cluttering things up with paper versions. Less clutter is a wonderful thing.

Second, if I ever decide to have a kid, all bets are off. Kids need a lot of stuff. I can be positively austere, but I'm not going to limit a child to two bibs and three toys. As the kid grows up, we can donate the toys she doesn't play with (okay, she can keep some special favorites). We can give away the clothes that he has outgrown. Maybe I will raise a child who doesn't feel like she needs to own a lot of things. And when I die, she'll keep a few of my treasured possessions and give the rest away. The most important things I would want to leave a kid are good memories and good lessons from me. And maybe my Harry Potter books.

Jack of All Trades

2010-11-11T11:04:00.000-08:00

Last week, I went to the national conference of the American Musicological Society. If you are a musicologist or a musicology grad student, the AMS national meeting is the place to be. I've been to about five or six of these things so far, both when I was a grad student and after I got a full time job. When I was a grad student, in the midst of figuring out my dissertation topics, I went to all different kinds of papers to see what other folks were researching. I thought about music and sociology, music and semiotics, and just about everything else that sounded even remotely interesting. As I was finishing up my degree, I went to AMS meetings to schmooze with people at schools where I applied for jobs. This was a very big deal. I chose my wardrobe with extreme care, wanting to seem professional, but also approachable. I went to all the parties and tried to meet all of the people whose names I had seen on book covers. I talked to people after their papers and asked questions, exchanged information, and sent follow-up emails. I was desperate to make connections. My grad school buddy and I tore through the University parties like two women on a mission, making it rain business cards in our wake.

AMS meetings, post-doctorate, post-job, and post-tenure are an entirely different affair. The stress is gone. I dressed nicely, of course, but I didn't worry if I looked like I was trying too hard. If a set of papers seemed interesting, I went. If I didn't care about the paper topics (because I've already chosen my research area and written my dissertation), I didn't go. I met some people at parties, but I could be so much more casual because I didn't have to meet them. In short, I moved to a different place in the hierarchy. I sat back a bit and watched the grad students jockey for position in the party clusters. I chatted with my former professors in a purely social way. They were happy to see that I'd gotten myself a job and tenure, and I was happy to see they were thriving as well. No awkward questions about how many interviews I'd snagged in the previous year, no wondering about what next year's crop of jobs would look like.

One afternoon, my grad school buddy--who I never get to see except at these meetings--was going to a study group meeting for Music and Philosophy. I was intrigued, so I went along. After listening to the discussion for a while, I knew that I wanted to stay in my own area of study rather than branching out into this realm. When the sign-up sheet for an internet discussion group came around, I passed it along instead of putting my email on it. Now, that might not seem like much to you, but to me, it was huge. And it was a testament to how far I had come. I didn't have to throw myself into this. I realized I already had a career, an area of expertise, and I could (and can) pick and choose how I want to spend my time.

As a grad student, the range of options to specialize in is so vast, it can be paralyzing. And besides choosing something you actually like to learn about, you also wonder if you're choosing an area that will be popular for years to come, or if it will fall out of favor with the general community. Most of us start out putting our eggs in many baskets, or betting on more than one horse, if you prefer horse racing metaphors. We make a big decision when we choose our dissertation topics because they define us, but only temporarily. The dissertation, daunting as it may seem, is just one research project in a career that will hopefully be full of them. It's so easy to get lost in the choosing and the schmoozing that it's hard to foresee a time when every choice and interaction won't be such a big damn deal.

It happened, though. It happened for me. I might one day go back on the job market, looking for a musicology job somewhere, but until that time, I remain one of the lucky ones. In horse racing terms again, since I have my degree, a job, and tenure, I feel like I won the Trifecta.

The stories behind the albums

2010-10-22T21:58:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the long hiatus, but I am indeed back and better than ever. Today, I did a thing on Facebook that a friend tagged me to do forever ago. It's a list of 15 albums that will always stick with you. You're supposed to think of them quickly, in no more than 15 minutes. As I was compiling my list today, I realized that there were stories behind the albums. And of course, I wanted to tell those stories. So here they are.

1. Everclear - So Much for the Afterglow. I came to love this album during a particularly turbulent and amazing time. I was single, living with my two roommates in Brooklyn (and later Queens), teaching middle school by day, and maintaining a heroic partying schedule by night. The album had a song for every mood, and it inspired me to start writing my first novel...which I then finished seven years later.

2. B-52s - Cosmic Thing. This was the last album I bought on vinyl. It came out when I was in high school and I listened to it constantly. Different songs on this album remind me of different people. "Love Shack", for example, reminds me of Heather, while "Deadbeat Club" reminds me of Michele and how we wore those togas at her birthday party that time. I love many of the B-52s' albums, but this one probably shows their best musicianship and is certainly the cleanest production of the lot. I love this album because the good high school memories it stirs up are incredibly strong.

3. The Smiths - The Queen is Dead. I gotta thank my sister for this one. She had the album (again, on vinyl) and she told me it was a good one. I made a tape of it so I could listen on my Sony Walkman (God, I am OLD), and it was a revelation. Morrissey's lyrics, Johnny Marr's guitar...guh. So freaking good. I started listening to the Smiths in eighth grade, so when everyone else was going nuts for "Pour Some Sugar on Me," I was listening to songs that mentioned Keats and Yeats and I felt smart and cool.

4. Little Shop of Horrors Soundtrack (1986 film version). I liked the movie and I loved the music and I listened to this album a lot, as only a musical theater geek can. But the notable thing about this album--at least to me--was that it was the first music I can remember hearing very clearly in my head. Of course I could imagine music before this, but my mind's ear must have been starting to develop at this time, and I was flat out amazed at how much detail of this music I could recreate in my head. That skill is probably one of the reasons I became a musician.

5. Pixies - Velouria Live. In relationships, it's important for people to feel that there are some things that belong only to them. This album was one of those things for me. At the time I acquired it, I needed something I didn't share with my significant other and this album became that. I love the Pixies so much, and when I hear "Wave of Mutilation," my soul sings in utter joy.

6. Muse - Absolution. This album just blew me away. It is beautiful and complex and interesting, and even after listening to it a whole lot of times, I still keep finding new things to love about it. It is a complete soundscape, and it is thoroughly a work of art from first note to last.

7. Mindless Self Indulgence - Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy. This album was a doorway to another world. Once again, it was something that belonged only to me and that was a precious thing at the time. Also, I really like the music and the lyrics often make me laugh because they are ridiculous.

8. Coldplay - A Rush of Blood to the Head. Coldplay is everybody's whipping boy, but y'all can eat it because this is a great album. Not only are the songs beautifully crafted, but at the time I got it as a gift, the album really felt like the soundtrack to something I was reading at the time. I got swept up into this story, and the music just seemed to make the sweeping all the more intense. My imagination woke up and I started writing a lot. It was a really good thing for me.

9. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Mother’s Milk. Picture it: High school. Mary's boyfriend Alex--who was much older than all of us--had the poster for this album up on his wall. I got the cassette tape and listened to it a whole lot. We used to have sing-alongs in Heather's car to "Knock Me Down" and we wrote alternate lyrics to "Subway to Venus." I know everybody likes Blood Sugar Sex Magik better, but for me, the Red Hots peaked with Mother's Milk and "Breaking the Girl" (from Blood Sugar Sex Magik). You can keep everything that happened afterwards. Please keep it. No, seriously, I pretty much hate all of it after this.

10. Michael Jackson - Thriller. OMG, this album was important to me. I was barely 10 when it came out and it just freaking owned. I loved the songs and the videos. Especially "Thriller." That video was amazing. And if you asked me right now, I'd be able to recite all of Vincent Price's "Rap" from the end of the song. I could probably also do a passable version of the Thriller dance from the video.

11. Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra - Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. They're not the greatest orchestra in the world, but they played a pretty decent Rhapsody in Blue. They do a repeat that no one else ever does so since I got this album when I was about 12, I always expect to hear that repeat. This piece made me want to understand the way music worked. I get it now.

12. Temple of Doom Soundtrack - Christmas of 1984, my sister and I received this cassette as a gift. I listened to it for months. I was fascinated by the sound of the orchestra and I was fairly obsessed with the Chinese version of "Anything Goes." I used to tap dance to the instrumental interlude in my basement. Yes, I was/am that dorky.

13. South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut Soundtrack. I couldn't believe how good this movie was. And I couldn't believe how perfectly Trey Parker and Marc Shaiman had captured different styles of musical numbers. A few years ago, I actually did an academic paper on the use of musical parody in this movie. Also, I can sing you "La Resistance (Medley)" all by myself. It's great for long car trips.

14. Fatboy Slim - You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby. Back in the 90s, I heard this and thought: this is the future of music and I am cool with that! I used to listen to it on my way to my job at the middle school in Brooklyn. The first song reminds me of being on the train as it went over the Manhattan Bridge as the sun was coming up over the city.

15. Beastie Boys - To the Five Boroughs. A musical ode to New York City. There is stuff referenced on this album that only New Yorkers would know, so listening to it feels like being in an exclusive club. The album cover features a beautiful drawing of Manhattan including the Twin Towers. The BBs address a lot of post 9/11 feelings and attitudes, praising the city for its resilience. I published a paper on this album a couple of years ago. To the Five Boroughs is funny as hell in places. That Adrock, he still cracks me up.

Fooling Cars

2010-05-09T23:17:00.000-07:00

I drive a fair amount and I see my share of joggers and runners. I've noticed that they're always running. They're never stopped on the side of the road, breathing heavily. They're never walking because their hearts are about to explode. But when I go running, half the time I'm doing one of those things. I hate to think that all these random people I see on the street are better runners than me. I mean, I've been doing this for a couple of months now and I'm still not able to run continuously for the entire time I'm out. I can't wait for the day that I start running and don't have to stop until I say it's time. I'm so not there yet.

So...I came up with an idea.

Now, what I do when I run is, I fool cars. I run as much as I'm able, of course, but I try not to stop when I'm running past a car, or when a car is stopped at a light. This way the car thinks that I've been running the whole time, and that I'll continue running long after it's driven off. If I can't actually be one of those amazing runners, at least I can fool cars into thinking that I am one of them.

There may come a time when I don't have to resort to subterfuge when I'm running. When I can run for as long as I want without having to stop and catch my breath. In the meanwhile, I'll push myself to keep pounding the pavement when a car is waiting at the stop sign. I can't fool them all, but I can get some of them.

I know this blog is shorter than usual, but at the risk of drawing the wrath of pun-haters everywhere: I've got to run. :)

The Me Who Drinks Tea

2010-04-26T12:11:00.000-07:00

I don't drink coffee. I never have. My mother once said to me that I would develop a taste for it, especially in college when one is generally expected to stay up all night cramming for exams or finishing papers. Not only did I never develop a taste for coffee, I never actually pulled an all-nighter in college. Even on nights I was up late working, I'd sleep for a while and wake up early to finish, but even that was a rare occasion.

A couple of years ago, I had a job that was more work than I could have possibly imagined. The deadlines were tight and the turnaround time for my assignments was non-existent. I stayed up all night working, and I used a caffeinated tea for those all-important jolts of both energy and that feeling of well-being that makes you think you can really get it all done. The only other time I use tea for a quick pick-me-up is when I'm traveling and jet-lagged.

I prefer to drink tea (decaf or herbal) when I'm relaxing. I like to drink it after a meal or when I'm sitting talking to a friend. Tea forces me to slow down because I have to wait for it to cool and I can't just chug it down. I like mint tea after a meal or chamomile close to bed-time. I like fruity flavored teas during the day, or just plain Lipton. I have plenty of tea on hand at both work and home, but I don't often make the effort to put a cup of water into the microwave for a few minutes, mostly because I know I'll have to wash the cup. How ridiculous is that? I should get one of those electrical tea kettles and just plug the stupid thing in when I'm having office hours and make myself a cup of tea. I should bring a clean cup in from home and take it back at the end of the day for washing in my kitchen sink. What's so hard about that?

I like the me who drinks tea. I like the introspective, non-rushing version of me. I don't have a daily ceremonial beverage like everyone's "first cup of coffee," nor do I have a beer or a scotch when I get home after work. All day long I drink water out of a refillable metal bottle, and I rarely stray from that. I drink orange juice maybe once a week. Same with beer. It would be nice to sit and drink a cup of tea in the afternoon--every afternoon--like the British do. A lovely ceremonial drink that makes you slow down for a moment. I don't know about you, but I think my day could use slightly more ceremony in it.

The DecaAwesome List Strikes Back

2010-04-09T15:50:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I did one of these, and since I am feeling saucy and sassy today, it's about time I shared some good vibes.

1. Yan-Yan. Delicious Asian snack consisting of cookie-like sticks you dip into flavored cream. I've tried chocolate and vanilla so far. Strawberry is next. Best part: the weird messages on the cookies. There's Horse Gallop Away, Chick Lucky Colour Yellow, Owl Only at Night, and Squirrel Your Best Friend. I'm sorry, what? Eating words that make no sense is delicious!

2. Dr. Scholl's Ball-of-the-Foot cushion inserts. I know, this one really shows my age, but they're so damn comfortable! I have some in two pairs of shoes. Definitely reduces slippage and slidage, and makes walking around all day much more pleasant.

3. Skype. Saw my two grandmothers on Easter, my parents, Cat and the new baby, and even my gorgeous nieces. It's like being there.

4. The Julia Child part of Julie and Julia. Like many people who have reviewed this film for me, I loved the Julia Child parts the best. The Amy Adams parts were good too, but sometimes I felt like smacking the character. Julia's relationship with her husband was particularly inspiring. Such a supportive, loving man she married. I should be so lucky!

5. Sous-chef-ing. After many years of reluctant cooking (I don't find it especially comforting or relaxing), I suddenly find myself in the role of sous-chef to my roommate, who cooks rather well. I have also found that I have a knack for cutting things up, not just chopping, but slicing, dicing, and yes, butchering. As the granddaughter of a butcher, I seem to have the talent for meat-cutting in my blood. I'm supposed to say something threatening here like, 'so watch out!' but I won't. Oh wait, I just did.

6. Exercise. Yes, I do feel more energetic, thank you very much.

7. My new steamer. It cooks rice and vegetables beautifully. To me, there is nothing lovelier than white rice and steamed broccoli. Yummy.

8. New academic projects. I might have the opportunity to write an academic book that no one will actually read, and I am totally psyched at the possibility. You can take the girl out of school, but you can't take the nerdiness out of the girl.

9. New fiction projects. I just started a new novel. It's the most ambitious thing I've tried so far. I don't know if I will succeed, but I'm sure gonna give it the ol' college try.

10. Love. I had a rough day this past week. I was feeling discouraged and impatient, and my friends and family were there with loving words, hugs and kisses from the people geographically close, and supportive comments from the folks on Facebook. I'm so pleased I've given enough good in the world to receive these dividends back when I need them.

Bonus:

11. The guy who told me that scientists don't know anything about gravity because they don't take Karma into account. Hee. You made my day.

An Hour to Contemplate

2010-04-07T18:19:00.000-07:00

I have an hour before class, so I'm thinking. About what, you may say? Well, I'm so glad you asked.

I started off today in a very discouraged mood. It's not so much that anything is really wrong, but I'm sure you've had a day where you feel you've been running hard and fast only to stop and see that you've gone nowhere at all. The truth of the matter is, I'm doing just fine. I'm not losing ground, but I feel like I'm gaining ground at such a snail's pace that I might as well be standing still.

Yes, I'm being overly dramatic. Yes, the facts tell me I'm in a fairly decent position in life. But that hardly matters when you've gotten yourself into a funk, now does it? I had ice cream at Scoops with Cael today, so that has brightened my mood considerably. A little commiseration, a little sugar, some soy milk, and a friendly ear work wonders. And in the midst of our convo, Cael said something to me that was really thought-provoking.

I said I was discouraged because I'm not quite where I want to be. I haven't found an agent or published a book yet even though I finished my first novel ages ago. I'm still cleaning up the financial mess from my last relationship and will be for years. I am currently engaged in a war with moths (long story). And yes, most vexatious, I am still NOT the voice of a cartoon character. After listening to me rant and ramble, Cael asked, "Isn't it great that you have somewhere you want to get to? Don't you think it would be boring if you had accomplished everything already, and still had three fourths of your life yet to live?" (Yes, I'm going to live to 140, thank you very much.)

He was right, of course. I don't want to be the person who peaks too early (but I do want to peak at some point). At high school reunions, I always feel so much pity for the prom queen or football hero whose life after graduation is one long, fat, decrescendo. I always want to believe the best is just waiting around the corner for me. Usually, I have no trouble believing that, but today was a moody day, so my friend had to remind me. That's what they're for, you know. Friends, that is.

That being said, I'm going to allow myself the rest of the day to be discouraged and moody and perhaps overly dramatic. One can't attack every day with energy and enthusiasm, but maybe tomorrow I'll kick the day's ass. We'll see how ferocious I'm feeling after a good dinner and a good night's sleep.

I've Seen the Future...

2010-03-19T11:41:00.000-07:00

And it is now.

Actually, I like the cliched line from all those fifties filmstrips: it's the kitchen of the tomorrow...TODAY! I just Skyped (may I use that as a verb?) with my friend Cat, and not only did we chat, but we used the video feature and saw each other! And not only did I see her, I got to see her three-week-old adorable baby! It was just like that scene at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey when the guy calls home and talks to his daughter via picture phone! It was the phone call of tomorrow (except there were no phones involved whatsoever)...TODAY!

When I was about 10 years old, I wondered what life would be like "in the year 2000." I'd correctly done the math to calculate that I would be 26 in May of 2000. I figured that medicine would have cancer licked by then. I thought we'd have more done in outer space (Challenger was still two years away at that point). I'm not talking colonies on the moon, but a more regular schedule to and from space. I wasn't good at swallowing aspirin, so I was hoping that we'd have hyposprays like on Star Trek. Would we have video phones? Natch. Those sleek-looking cars of the future? Of course. So I was surprised that in 2000, the "car of the future" seemed to be the SVU, not the wind-resistant sporty thing people always said it would be.

But here we are in 2010. Suddenly, that sleek little car of the future idea seems to be making a comeback. Have you seen that tiny little Volkswagen that will sell for $600 in China? Check it out. Looks like the car of the future to me. And just today, I video chatted with my friend. I know Skype's been around for a while, but on my last computer I needed a separate web cam and it was a real pain in the ass. Now, I just click and the camera that's mounted into my computer does the rest. Feels like I'm there!

We haven't quite fixed cancer yet, have we? Sure, treatment is better and more promising, and we now have more options than ever before, but that miracle "cure for cancer" hasn't materialized the way my 10-year-old self assumed. There's no miracle cure for weight-loss either. Nothing stops Alzheimer's in its tracks. So it kinda feels like the challenges of humanity are still there in very recognizable, very physical ways. We still have to eat right and exercise to lose weight. We don't have mechanical kidneys on a shelf to implant into people on dialysis. And ah yes, Space, the final frontier. We have a space station, but it's not for people like you and me. Space is still for elite astronauts only. You know how I know? There's no mall up there. There's no Target, no Kohl's, no food court with Panda Express or Pizza Hut/Wing Street up there. Clearly, it's not for the masses yet.

But I'm not totally disappointed in the future. I know for a fact I'd get very motion sick in Zero-G so I wouldn't have an appetite for hot wings up there anyway. And my 10-year-old self never foresaw the internet. That's changed my life a lot, and I never saw it coming. Now there are 3-D TVs on the way to the market! I totally called that in 1984! In the final tally, I suppose I'm pretty happy with the way the future has gone so far, but I still hold out hope for those miracle cures and awesome space stations.

I'm not doing much to help the cause, I suppose. Maybe I should have become an M.D. instead of a Ph.D. Nah, I'm in the right business. So while those other minds are thinking of ways to make the future amazing for everyone (and make good on those predictions I'm still waiting for), I'm going to celebrate the present in a very old fashioned way: I'm going for a walk.

The Hardest Thing You Ever Did

2010-03-10T18:36:00.000-08:00

What was it?

Did you give birth to a child? Did you hold the hand of someone you love while they were dying? Did you sacrifice something incredibly precious? Did you walk away from something you knew was bad for you?

There are dark moments in life. Really difficult things. And not just life and death stuff either, but bad jobs that you have to keep because you need to eat every day, or months of floundering when you just can't seem to get your head out of your ass. Surviving cataclysmic moments or enduring long periods of something soul-degrading, either one can be The Hardest Thing (THT).

So think for a minute. Decide what it might be.

And now think about the effects that thing has had on your life, good and bad.

And now realize that you are still alive, and you either a) have enough free time to read this, or b) have a job (lucky you!) from which you are stealing time to read this. That "hardest thing" is likely behind you. You can look at it from here and say, "I did that." "I endured that." The funniest thing is you may have no idea HOW you got through it, but you did. THT sucked when it happened or when you did it, and you knew it sucked at that moment, but you survived anyway. You didn't just throw up your hands and say, "I give up." You probably didn't have much of a choice anyway. So you shut up and you forged ahead and you came out the other side.

THT is a powerful thing. It's probably not a good memory, but it pays every once in a while to look at it. Why? Because it shows what you are made of. It shows you are tougher than you thought you were. It shows you have more energy than you thought you did. More charm. More guts. More resourcefulness. It can help you get through a bad day or a bad week by reminding you of what a badass you really are. It can shrink today's challenges down to nothing. Hell, if I did THT, I can certainly handle today's presentation. Folks say life is made up of the little things--and THT was certainly a BIG thing, but remembering THT can help you navigate the little things with ease. After all, car trouble, overtime, and bad weather are nothing compared to THT. Annoying, yes. Soul-shattering? Probably not.

So when it appears that life is acting like a spoiled brat, look back over your shoulder for a minute and take 60 seconds to look at The Hardest Thing You Ever Did. Then, with renewed energy, turn your face to the future and press on.

Getting a Job with a Ph.D.

2010-02-13T11:35:00.000-08:00

I can't remember the exact date when I got it into my head that I wanted to go "all the way" with school. I know that I started a masters very early on because I did BA and MA concurrently. I think I took my first graduate class when I was all of 19. I know in my last two years at Hunter that I actually auditioned for a doctoral program in choral conducting at UCONN. That program would have given me a D.M.A., Doctor of Musical Arts. It probably would have also given me an ulcer. Luckily, I did not get accepted into the program, and I had to reassess what I really wanted to do, in and out of school.

My masters degree concentrated in vocal performance, but I knew that I didn't want to be an opera star. I actually started with a masters in history, but I discovered that I could sing so I thought I should really work the performance angle while I was still young. Turned out to be a great decision, considering that my livelihood at present depends greatly on what I learned as a masters student. After that, there was three years of hell in the New York City Public school system before I finally followed my dream of getting a Ph.D.

But where did this dream come from? Why did it suddenly become so damned important to me? I recall an incident at Hunter that happened after I graduated. There was a concert at Lang Recital Hall (I think that's what it was called) and afterwards, I was standing around chatting up the other attendees. Professor D. came over to talk to me and asked me how things were going. I told her about teaching seventh grade and how it sucked (I probably used the word "challenging" or something suitably euphemistic), and how much I wanted to move on to a doctoral program. That much I already knew. I figured the only way out of the hell of teaching middle school was getting another degree.

To my great shock, Professor D. discouraged me. It's not worth it, she said. You won't be able to find work, she said. You're going to struggle and starve to get this degree, and end up with nothing to show for it but tens of thousands of dollars in debt.

I'm sorry, what?

I've never had anyone discourage me from more school before. But for some reason it didn't throw me. What came out of my mouth next was the real surprise. I thought I was about to make a joke. Perhaps a mocking sort of joke at the highfalutin reasons why people stay in academia. "But, Professor D.," I said. "I really want to make a commitment to scholarship." Ha ha. Okay, so it's not a knee-slapper, but it also turned out to be TRUE. It wasn't until I said it that I realized how true it was. It was like my brain had been thinking about this without letting me know, planning this behind the scenes, maybe when I was sleeping or watching movies I'd already seen. And my brain waited for a moment when I would least expected it to pop out and yell, "SURPRISE!!!!"

I wanted to learn more, even if it meant having a Ph.D. and driving a cab (and God help my passengers because I have the worst sense of direction ever). I wanted the knowledge and the expertise and I was stubborn enough not to care about the practical aspects of how to live during and after the degree-getting. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!! Luckily, I got jobs teaching college. Right away. Before I was even finished with my degree. And it was everything that I hoped for: students who were interested in the subject, who didn't try to kill each other with box-cutters, who were there because they wanted to be. I started a full-time teaching job exactly one year after I graduated. I am in the minority. It worked out for me. Granted, I still have my massive student loan to pay back, but I have a means of doing it, i.e. a job.

It doesn't work out for a lot of people. Some never actually finish because it's a huge undertaking, especially the dissertation. And if you work full time to support yourself, or if you have a family, it's that much more difficult to find the time to put it all together. If you do finish, you might be able to find a job in the middle of nowhere--certainly nowhere near where you are--and that might not be so hot if you have a bread-winning spouse who needs to stay HERE for work.

There are thousands of ways for it to go wrong, and I didn't give a crap about any of them. I made a commitment to scholarship. It's probably the only thing I can still commit to. Hey, hey! *rimshot* But seriously, folks. I've made a contribution to my field, published articles and given papers, and that was exactly what I wanted to do. What I still want to do.

There's been a lot of stuff written recently about the "Big Lie" in academia. The Big Lie that an advanced degree allows you to write your own ticket. You can't. Not really. You are at the mercy of a lot of things out of your control. If colleges and universities have hiring freezes because of the economy, there are no jobs to be had. Period. Nothing is a guarantee. Is it worth it anyway? It was for me. Even if I didn't have a job, I doubt I'd regret being Doc G. But that's me.

In the twelve years since that fateful conversation, I thought a lot about what Professor D. said to me. She told me about the Big Lie. She told me what was likely to happen, what the odds were. I don't think she had any doubt I'd get the degree, but she knew the real challenge would come afterwards. You can control your own work towards the Ph.D., but you can't control job availability once you're done. I heard what she said, of course. This is woman who wastes no words. To my great astonishment, however, I was willing, eager even, to make all the sacrifices necessary to get the degree and a job in academia (or suffer without one). I don't know if I will ever again experience that kind of singleness of mind and purpose. Or if the world will ever again cooperate so fully to help me achieve my goals.

All I know is that it is done, and cannot be undone, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Living Conditions

2010-01-30T13:49:00.000-08:00

It's been thirteen years since I lived in my college dormitory. Living there was a great opportunity since I got to live in Manhattan in a relatively safe place for what amounted to about $200 a month. A ridiculously low price even then. A few days before freshman year started, my parents moved me in with some basic stuff, food, dishes, silverware, toiletries. My mother swept and mopped the floor while my father and I chose where to put the imitation wood and metal furniture that came with the room. This particular dorm had originally been built for nursing students. The dorm is situated in a part of the east side called "Bedpan Alley" because it's right near Bellevue and the VA hospital. The rooms were designed as small cells, about seven to eight feet wide, and about twelve feet long. By the door, there's a sink and a closet. Each floor has communal bathrooms and a communal kitchen. If it sounds dreary and institutional, that's because it is. Or was, I don't know what the dorm looks like now, but I have seen small air conditioners in the windows recently. Jerks. Where was that in the summer of '94 during the heat wave?

The dorm was cheap and convenient, but it was also kindofa hellhole. Definitely the kind of place you can feel good about living in only when you're a certain age. Let me put it this way, after moving me in, my mother never again visited the dorm. I don't think she liked seeing the conditions I was living in. Not that my folks had a lot to compare it to; I think I'm the only member of my family who ever lived in a dorm. At nineteen years old, I'm not saying I was completely cool living with insects and mice. Those things freaked me out, but not enough to make me live at home instead. If I saw a bug, I squashed it or sprayed it with whatever was handy. (I remember a particular incident in which I made a critter very shiny with Pledge before it ultimately expired.) If I saw a mouse in the kitchen--usually sniffing around whatever I was cooking--I banged on the counter with a wooden spoon to make it go away.

After five years in that dorm, I moved to an apartment in Brooklyn with some friends. It was cleaner, but there were still bugs to contend with since we lived upstairs from a restaurant. Many pieces of our furniture were hand-me-downs from our families. We also had some sidewalk furniture. Nothing matched, and we occasionally used the bathtub as an ersatz cooler when we had parties. The apartment was sweltering in the summertime. From there we moved to another apartment in Queens. Still with the sidewalk furniture, still with the hand-me-downs, still with ridiculous heat in the summer. A studio in Los Angeles followed where I the only quiet study place for me was the bathtub. A studio has but one room and my boyfriend at the time watched TV a lot. Had no cable for a while, no cushions on my couch, and carpeting that got absolutely gross almost instantly. But who really cared? I was a starving graduate student and it felt perfectly right for me to be "struggling" in a tiny place, sitting on wood slats, and eating that terrible $.99 frozen pizza for dinner.

It was when I was in the next apartment that things started to change for me in my mind. This apartment had two rooms, and that was a huge step up. I could actually close the door to the bedroom and work in there. This apartment had a dishwasher--a terrible, barely-working dishwasher--but at least it dried the dishes well. I bought new furniture that matched. There was still that gross carpeting, which got downright nasty in the seven years I lived there, but I felt lucky to live in a place without pests, except for the occasional spider. I began to consider what was important to me in an apartment.

The first thing that really changed was my tolerance for pests: I suddenly had none. Then I looked at the carpet and began to think that wood flooring would be so much better. I began to crave my own washer and dryer after years of lugging loads and loads of laundry down to the extremely inconvenient laundry rooms in my complex. I decided that my next place would have the things I wanted and I wasn't going to move until I found them all for a reasonable price. Luckily, I found such a place: hardwood floors, a washer/dryer, two bathrooms (that was a nice extra), and a dishwasher. Granted, this dishwasher still sucks, but I'm mostly happy with all of it.

Something weird happened in my current complex this week involving a guest and some alleged vandalism (long story for another time). It was handled pretty poorly by the management and it made me go on Craigslist to price other places. I thought that if there was a sweet deal, I might look into it. What I realized is that since I moved into the dorm almost eighteen years ago, my taste in accommodations has changed greatly. I'm older and I feel past the age where I want to sit on a couch I rescued from the garbagemen. I don't want to be rolling my shopping cart full of clothes down the street to the laundromat. If I saw a mouse sniffing around my pots on the stove now, I'd freak the hell out. I've become used to a certain standard of living that, while not super fancy, is decidedly decent.

I hope that one day soon I'll have one of those kick-ass dishwashers that doesn't require any preemptive dish-scraping, and I'll wonder how I ever did without it. Perhaps, maybe twenty or so years from now, I'll be moving my daughter into some nasty dormitory hellhole, and I won't want to see my baby girl chasing mice away with a spoon. She'll roll her eyes and say, "Mom, would you stop being so picky? It's fine." And to her it will be fine. She'll just be grateful to be on her own, like I was once upon a time. It'll be enough. Putting up with the pests and the sketchy laundry facilities and weird roommates will be just fine because she'll be free. When you're nineteen, freedom is worth all of the gross inconvenience of a dormroom or a tiny first apartment. When you're my age, however, you want it all.

The Long-A** Journey into Jeopardy!

2010-01-28T20:40:00.000-08:00

I just finished taking the online test for Jeopardy. I don't know how I did. I do know that I can remember about 20 of the questions I was asked (there were 50 in total) and of the 20, I tanked about half. It could be that I'm having an easier time remembering the ones that stumped me, but I don't know for sure. What I do know is that in the coming days my memory will start randomly spitting out more of the test questions--most likely while I'm about to fall asleep, and I'll have a better idea of how I did. I won't get an official grade for my performance; I won't get feedback of any kind. In fact, this is just the first of many steps to get on the show.

If I did well, and I'm one of the randomly chosen people (yes, some of it has to do with chance) from the "did well" list, then I go to take another test--this one in person. This can happen any time in the next year. The whole next year! If I ace in the in-person test, someone might interview me, and if I charm them ridiculously (you KNOW I will!), they might invite me to participate in a mock game to see if I can speak clearly and use the buzzer. Once I have successfully jumped through all the hoops, then, and only then will they invite me to be on the show. It might take two years or more if I have to take the online test again.

The practical upshot of knowing all of this hoo-hah about how the game works is that I watch the show differently now. Okay, my roommate can attest to the fact that I still yell all the answers out except for Final Jeopardy; for Final Jeopardy, you have to wait for the gap between when the music stops and when Alex reveals the answer. But now I look at the players differently. Now I know what they had to do to get on the show. (And frankly, I find it hard to believe some of them made it past the interview stage, but I suppose the Jeopardy people aren't necessarily looking for effervescent personalities.) Knowing this makes the occasional crash and burn all the more upsetting. If someone finishes in the red and can't participate in Final Jeopardy, that's a sucky ending to a long-ass journey. Likewise, if a contestant just can't find his rhythm and ring in--even though he seems to know most of the answers--it is indeed frustrating to behold. In fact, there are any number of ways someone's long-ass journey to Jeopardy! can end in tears, but is there more than one way you can leave feeling triumphant?

Yes, the winning money way. You can leave Jeopardy with your head held high if you win for multiple days and walk away with a wad of cash. I think you can be proud of yourself for fighting to the finish and being in the game the whole time, even if you ultimately lose. I'd really like to win for multiple days and walk away with some serious clams, but I would be even happier if I could do all that and 1) run at least one category, and 2) say to Alex, "I'd like to make it a true Daily Double."

But let's say the Fates are against you. Let's say you start Double Jeopardy in the hole, and then Alex reveals your nightmare board: for me it would have categories like "Obscure Geography," "Royalty of the Middle East," and "Calculus." Let's say you melt down and can't ring in, and if by the grace of God you make it into Final Jeopardy, the category is, "Business and Industry of China in the 1360s." What then? You bet the farm and go out swinging, I guess. Unless you think you can be the spoiler (if you don't know what this is, I can explain it). I suppose, though, that just being on the show will be an adventure, and even if you blow it bigtime in front of millions of people, you'll have a hell of a story to tell. It's not as cool as the 5-Day Champion Title and enough dough to pay off the student loans, but a good story is gold to a writer. And gold is worth something these days, right? Maybe?

So...in conclusion, it has begun. I took the test, and now I wait to see what happens. If nothing, I try again next January. I am on the road now, for better or worse. Was it Lao-Tzu or me who said, "The long-ass journey to Jeopardy! begins with an online test?"

Please phrase your answer in the form of a question.

Randomness

2010-01-20T14:48:00.000-08:00

When you are a writer, you notice the oddest things, and think about them for far too long. When your mind is at rest, if it ever is, you're constantly ruminating on ideas that aren't fully formed, wondering what might become the germ of a story or the quintessential detail at the core of a character. My neighborhood provides a lot of opportunities to notice the little things in life. The small blue flowers that grow under the fence of one house; toys in someone's front yard; the stack of mattresses just inside a curtainless window across the street; the dog that looks like Spuds Mackenzie; the deflated balloon on a cactus (I can't believe that actually happened, but my roommate from Phoenix says it happens all the time); the ridiculous number of doors on the big house on the hill.

In thinking about descriptions of places and things, I realize that I've been collecting little details for years. I don't have the best visual memory for layouts and big picture-type stuff, but I remember the little things well. I remember the mounted butterflies in A's bedroom. I remember the clean smell of laundry that always, always came from H's basement. I remember eating margarine on saltines at S's house. I remember boxes of envelopes (home business? I don't know) at E's house. I remember the toys strewn about the lawn of the house with the red door. I remember the taste of Fun Dip on a summer's day as Michelle and I walked home from the candy store.

There's so much that I remember. Sometimes, in quiet moments, I challenge myself to think of something I haven't thought of in a while. Can I really remember where they kept the mats at my dancing school? Where was the piano in the very first classroom at my first middle school teaching job? How many times did I run the projector at that film series at the seminary? Pictures help jar these memories, as do reminiscences with parties who were there (many thanks to my sister who drew me the layout of the roller rink we frequented as kids), but it's possible to explore these places in your mind, just turning over details until suddenly there's some new tidbit you haven't thought of in years.

I suppose that I've already used a lot of these little bits and pieces in my writing. The protagonist's home in my first novel is based on the house of one of my childhood friends. The characters in that book go to a party at a house where I once went to a party. I remember these details and I change them to fit the needs of my stories, but I still remember them. Lu's locker combination (in my second book) is the locker combination I had in high school. Yes, I still remember it, but then again, I used that lock every day for four years.

I suppose the best physical descriptions I can come up with as a writer are not the ones that come fully formed out of my head. They are the ones that grow out of the things I've already seen, the blocks I've already walked, and the sounds and smells in my memory. Perhaps as I write more, I'll become more inventive with my descriptions of settings and of concrete things. Until I can invent entire worlds in my head (thanks for the high bar, J.K. Rowling), I'll rely on a growing collection of small details. Maybe, just maybe, the little yellow rubber fish I got for a dime at the arcade when I was a wee lass will become an important element in a story someday. Hell, maybe an entire series of novels will turn on this completely random object. I don't have a lot of things from my childhood, but I saved the fish for some reason. But even if I hadn't, I probably would've remembered it. I do that with random things, you see.

Agent Search Mania 2010

2010-01-06T17:20:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog at the beginning of 2008, I had just spent the previous year trying to find an agent for my first novel. My first entries were about the search for representation, and ultimately, about rejection. I'm still trying to figure out how to revise that book to make it more marketable while still allowing it to retain its unique "charm," but that's another story.

Last November, I finished my second novel, and although I'm still revising, I'm getting ready for Agent Search Mania 2010 or ASM-10. There are a few things that need doing, so let's talk about them. Since the two books I have written thus far are YA books, it's time I rejoined the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. It's also time I took stock of the publishing world's present state, so I went to the newsstand today and purchased some writing magazines to look up contests and to research agencies.

I read three such magazines today, and there are some really useful articles and tidbits there. However, I must say that when I read these magazines, I get anxious, itchy, and impatient. I always think, why am I reading about writing when I could be writing? Because although I think researching and preparation are useful parts of the process, I firmly believe that only writing is writing. Thinking, outlining, getting inspired, these are all wonderful, important things, but seriously people, only writing is writing.

And if I may add to the last thought something else, most of writing is re-writing. Sure, it's hard enough to get a coherent story on the page, but it's harder when you realize that almost nothing comes out of the pen or onto the computer screen perfectly on the first try. Once in a while, you may write a beautiful line that comes out even better than you planned, but those lines are rare. A writer mustn't be afraid of imperfection; a writer must work with it, day after day, and make the best of it.

I really like the last sentence I wrote, but I'll be the first to admit, I crafted a couple of versions of it before I was satisfied. Nothing was born perfect (except for my nieces).

Off I go, revising and sending out query letters and trying to figure out how to be a successful novelist. In the back of my mind, another book is brewing. I've made some notes, started outlining, but it's on the back-burner until the revisions are done. There is so much work ahead so I'll keep you posted.

Best of the Decade

2009-12-27T17:32:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, the first decade of the new millennium is coming to a close. What better way to celebrate than to make a list of my favorite things of the decade?

In no particular order:

1. Fondant. When the decade began, I didn't even know this delicious sugary substance existed. Then I started watching those cake challenge shows, and then I tasted it. OMG, it's wonderful. You can form it into different shapes and then eat it, and cover cakes with it and then eat it. YUM.

2. HBO. I remember when this station just showed the same crappy twelve movies over and over again (I'm looking at you, Just One of the Guys). Now it produces tons of amazing original programming that I love (or have loved). HBO is a force to be reckoned with in entertainment. Good on you, channel.

3. Harry Potter. What would my decade have been without these books (I read the first one in fall of 2000), these movies, and the four HP conferences I attended? HP introduced me to online friends, real life friends, and a group of characters who have inspired me. Truly a life-changer.

4. Cate Blanchett. She's been in everything from Lord of the Rings to Benjamin Button to I'm Not There. How the hell is she so good in everything? You can add Kate Winslet to this one because she too is amazing and chameleon-like and was in one of my favorite movies of the decade: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

5. George Clooney. Michael Clayton and Up in the Air are just two fantastic movies he was involved with this decade. Add Christian Bale to this list entry because he is the hardest working man in show business.

6. YouTube. It has changed the way we do a lot of stuff. You want to hear a commercial jingle or see an old commercial, you can. If you want to share your kid's dance recital with the world, you can. If you want to see Beyonce slip on stage and get right back up like the diva she is, you can. It's changed my teaching because my students can now watch--for free--different versions of the songs we are studying. They can see great performances and hopefully learn from them.

7. The Daily Show. I missed out on this for years, but now that I can enjoy it every night, it's really changed the way I look at news. It's actually encouraged me to pay attention to what's going on in the world and it's helped me figure out how I really feel about issues. I'd been ignoring my own opinions for so long, I almost forgot I had any. But I do. I really do.

8. Writing. Has saved my life. More than once.

9. USC. Where I spent the first half of the decade. No matter where I travel in the world, no matter where I end up, I'll always be a Trojan. Doheny Library will always feel like home.

10. Rock Band. I can play the pretend drums now. There are certain songs that I will associate with Rock Band forever because of how much fun I had playing them with my band, Monkey Deathcar.

11. Dave Chapelle. He did some really funny stuff this decade, and may be the funniest man of the last 10 years. Not so funny when he disappeared, but his stand up and the Chapelle show will live on as hilarious monuments.

12. Pixar. What a magical company. Everything movies should be.

13. Facebook. On any given day, I can see a status line from: current students, former students, work buddies, family, college friends, high school friends, or friends-of-friends. This kind of connectivity is amazing. Even though I don't spend an awful lot of time on Facebook, it's good to know I can communicate with people so easily.

14. Judd Apatow. His movies have made me laugh so much in the last decade. You can add all of his "peeps" to this list entry, like Seth Rogan, et al.

15. Freedom. I don't have the words to describe what freedom feels like. The last year of this decade has been an eye-opener.

16. I just know I forgot a million things, so let's just keep this one as a place-holder.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Holiday Newsletter

2009-12-18T08:48:00.000-08:00

I know some people hate the holiday newsletter because it is impersonal, but I have a fondness for holiday newsletters, especially the ones that catch me up on the people I love. I've decided to write one this year, right here, in this blog. I think it's a good way to tell friends and family what the year was like for me, but it's also a good way for me to step back and get the big picture of 2009.

Many holiday newsletters feature lots of information on pets and babies. Since I have neither, I will tell you about other people's babies in this paragraph. My sister had a daughter in August, bringing my total of gorgeous, brilliant niece/goddaughters up to TWO. Yes! My friend Cat (who is like a sister) is expecting a baby next year. Steve and Colleen continued to raise their adorable children, April and Michael. April is about to turn one, and Michael has grown into quite a little man.

That's all I got on babies and I didn't even mention animals, so the rest is about me. Sorry about that.

Okay, job stuff: I continued to work at LACC full time. It's a great job and I am really thankful to have it--and not just because the economy sucks. It's one of the most fulfilling, amazing jobs I could imagine, and I'm thrilled to tell you that I passed my last tenure review earlier in the fall. I won't get tenure officially until March or so, but it appears to be a fait accompli. I hope it's accompli, anyway. In addition to the regular job, I also wrote program notes. I wrote for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra for the third year in a row and began writing notes for Camerata Pacifica. I did a couple of little jobs for the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra too. I began a tutoring job at Compass Education Group. I now tutor the verbal side of the SATs. Can you believe that? It's a terrific job and I've met some fantastic young people. I cantored at St. Brendan's until November, when I took a leave of absence, but I'm planning to start back up in January.

Other work-type stuff: I decided to try to kickstart my voice-over career by doing some radio broadcasting. For about six months, I did a half-hour weekly music show on KCLA. It was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot. It turned out to be one-thing-too-many, so I decided to stop for a while. I have some good clips of myself, so that'll be good when I get around to making up a demo CD for voice-over work. I still hold out hopes of voicing a cartoon character someday. I've been writing as well. In addition to this blog and the LACO blog, I finished writing my second YA novel. In the new year, I hope to start looking for an agent...again. Perhaps I will be more successful this time. I proposed an academic book to a publishing house, but have not yet heard their rejection, er, response. I'm not holding my breath, though. What else? Oh yeah! I wrote and presented yet another Anthony Burgess paper, and that brings me to my next paragraph!

Travel: The big adventure this year was going to Malaysia. The Anthony Burgess people had a symposium there because Burgess used to live and work in Malaysia (we actually got to see the school where he taught and even his old apartment!). It was a terrific trip, and my paper went very well. It's going to be published in a book at some point. Which reminds me, I forgot to mention that another Burgess article I wrote made it into a very new, very expensive book called Anthony Burgess: Music in Literature and Literature in Music. You can buy it if you have sixty dollars (or forty pounds). Anyway, back to Malaysia. It was very hot, but the food was excellent, and I ate roti prata every chance I got, including at the KL airport on the way home. I could not get enough of that stuff! I didn't fly straight home from Malaysia, though, I flew into San Francisco and drove five hours up into the mountains to see my friends Kevin and Sara get married amongst the tall pines. Lovely event. A couple of weeks later, I was visiting New York and my family. I was there when my sister had the aforementioned baby. That was also a terrific trip.

An added bonus of that trip was that, while I was there, my roommate visited New York for the very first time. I showed him around and got to do New York-y things I never get to do when I'm visiting family. We even got to play chopsticks on the FAO Schwartz floor keyboard featured in the movie, Big. The trip was a lot of fun even though I visited during the hottest, most humid part of August. I forgot how much humidity sucks. I did get to hang out with my old friend Michele, which was brilliant. We've grown back together somewhat, and I'm very happy about that, same with my old friend, Lara.

I went to a conference with my work colleagues in November. It had been a while since I had been to San Francisco and it was nice to go back, although upon arrival, I caught a terrible cold and spent most of the weekend resting up. One HUGE bonus was getting to hang out with Cat, whose husband Kevin now works full time at a community college in Fresno. We did a lot of catching up. I also did a lot of sneezing.

I'm still lucky enough to live with T, who is a great roommate and an excellent cook. This year, I got back into eating beef and pork (after 18 years), and T has helped me ease back into it with pork chops and steaks and pot roast and a lot of yummy things I missed. Food aside, T continues to be a wonderful, supportive friend. Another amazing supportive friend? Cael. We meet for ice cream dates at Scoops (AMAZING ice cream place by school) as often as possible. Their vegan banana oreo is to die for.

Still staying social, but trying not to spread myself too thin. The year had plenty of parties and opportunities to meet new people, and I made some new friends. I'm not back in the dating game, per se, although I'm not entirely opposed to the idea. In other news, I sang a recital in March which went very well. I'm happy with how I sounded and I got a beautiful response from my students and colleagues. The auditorium was packed with people, and it felt wonderful to be sharing music with such a loving group.

I feel like I must be leaving out a hundred things, but I suppose that's all I can think of at the moment. That's 2009. It was a very good year. I hope yours was similarly filled with love and friends and work. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and a very Happy New Year!! Let's make the next one even better.

XOXO

Momentum

2009-11-16T13:08:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up early and and spend the day accomplishing everything on your list? I mean, you are just knocking those errands out, crossing things off the to-do list like crazy, because you, my friend, have momentum. On the other hand, have you ever had a day when you just couldn't get started? When, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't get the lawn-mower working no matter how many times you pulled that cord? The difference is momentum.

Lots of things can hamper momentum. On a small scale, fatigue can make it hard to get going. Sickness can do the same. Having a bad day or running into a person who just saps all of your energy are also culprits. On a large scale, momentum can be hampered by fear, depression, or anger: the same three things Yoda warns Luke about when they're having their whole "Dark Side" convo. Do you have any idea how many people in the world don't follow their dreams or stay at their dehumanizing jobs because of these three things? The only kind of momentum you're going to find under these conditions is the kind that leads you right down into the pit of despair and, below that, good old rock bottom. Angry people are too pissed off to get anything useful done. Fearful people are too afraid to do anything. Depressed people aren't your movers and shakers. When these obstacles lie in your path, you have to do whatever you can to remove them. Life moves. It does, and in order to move with it, you need some momentum.

Right about the time I started my dissertation, my friend D was finishing hers. She mentioned to me that there would come a time in my dissertation-writing--towards the end--where I would feel a wave of momentum carrying me to the end. I was still at the beginning, so I didn't really know what she was talking about, but damn it if she wasn't right. Somewhere, after all the initial research is done, after the chapters have been laid out and sketched out and drafted, there is a wave that carries you to the last word. You'd think that would be the point at which you are the most tired, the most depleted of your resources, and you are. You absolutely ARE! But then, it's like those runners who get that last kick in just before the end of the race. I don't know if it's a rush of adrenaline once you see the end is in sight, or if you finally find your way through to what you want to say, but it's a unique feeling.

Since I finished writing my dissertation four years ago, I've had a few friends call me up for advice on how to keep going, how to keep the mometum up, while writing a dissertation. It's a lonely long-term project that requires a lot of self-discipline, so I understand why one might need some sideline cheerleading now and then. When I get calls or emails like this looking for help, I always tell my friends, keep your head down and keep working while you wait for that final kick. Don't anticipate when it will come. Don't keep looking back over your shoulder for it. Just keep your eyes on the prize and trust it will carry you away. When you're at the end of your mental and physical resources, your momentum will take you home.

I'm late posting this blog because I myself am feeling that momentum. I am very close to the end of my second YA novel. I am, in fact, within pages of the ending. A couple of thousand words away from the resolution. And I can feel it. I can feel an inevitable pull, a great wave of momentum to the end. I've been feeling it since I hit 42,000 words. Like a magnet getting closer to another magnet, I know the nearer I get, the more forceful the pull will get. So even though I know I must teach and pack for my conference and grade papers and do the dishes, that momentum will take me to the last word whenever I have a few hours to sit in front of my computer.

I can't tell you how much I missed this feeling.

The Good Old Days

2009-11-06T23:32:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I'm saying this, but many moons ago, when I was growing up, the world was a very different place. The internet didn't exist, and the home computers my family owned (the Commodore Vic-20 and the Commodore 64) had less memory than your typical iPhone app. The part of Queens where I lived didn't get cable until I was in my teens, and the best we could do for On Demand viewing was our VHS collection and trips to Future Video. I grew up on books, network TV, and video games that were laughably simple. In the summer time, when there was "nothing to do," my sister and I read Mad Magazine, wrote comedy sketches, and watched Raiders of the Lost Ark.

For fun, I made crafts that I found in a volume of our Children's Encyclopedia or elsewhere. I mixed flour and water together to make dough. I made sun pictures. (Put shapes on construction paper and then put the paper in the sun. The sun fades the exposed construction paper and leaves the parts you covered the original color.) My sister and I melted crayon wax into bottlecaps to make gliders for a street game called Skully. (Wikipedia has a page for this game, I can't believe it! Apparently, it's regional to New York.) I used sidewalk chalk to make hop scotch boards. I jumped rope, and played handball against the side of the house. I collected leaves. Whenever I was bored, I knew it was up to me to get un-bored. Luckily, adventure was as close as the public library or the stack of books in my room. My sister and I got along well and entertained each other. We also visited our friends' houses and went for pizza in the neighborhood.

I didn't have cable, a cell phone, the internet, or an iPod. For school papers, I looked stuff up in the good old Collier's Encyclopedia. My mother often helped me type up my reports on a heavy electric typewriter we kept on a rolling metal table. If you look at the way children grow up now, it's a lot different. When my niece is bored, she goes on the computer and plays the games on the Nickelodeon website. If her TV shows aren't on for some reason, my sister can find play a DVD of her favorite series or turn to On Demand. When I was young, I was at the mercy of the television schedule. When The Price is Right was over at noon, The Young and the Restless came on, and that meant there was nothing on until Little House on the Prairie at 5:00. I'd walk to the television set (no remotes, you see) and turn it off for a few hours.

You might be thinking at this point that I'm about to get to a place where I say kids have it so easy today, but I'm not. Or you might think I'm going to declare how much better it was back then because it was a simpler time. I'm not saying that either, necessarily. What I am saying is that a childhood, whether spent playing skully, World of Warcraft, or tiddlywinks, is a special time. It shapes you in ways that are difficult to quantify. I still think Play Doh is pretty cool. I still like to do crafts, only now I get my ideas off the internet. I still turn off the TV in the middle of the day--a long holdout from the days when Soap Operas were all that the networks played between 12 and 5. If I see a hopscotch board drawn on the sidewalk in my neighborhood, I WILL jump and hop my way through it. Future Video has been replaced with the much more convenient and forgiving Netflix, and VHS has become DVD (and probably soon, BluRay). Reading is still one of my favorite activities, although if I want to own a book, I buy it online from Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

My childhood was very low-tech compared to the childhoods happening now, but that's okay. It was a rich childhood regardless. I don't begrudge today's kids their online encyclopedias or texting or DVDs of their favorite shows. I won't say I'm a better person for having had less technology when I was growing up, but I will say it's helped me to appreciate what I have now even more. And far from making me feel further away from my past, the internet can help me experience parts of my childhood again. I can buy the Weeble's Treehouse on eBay. I can watch old commercials on YouTube. For this blog, I wanted to find out the correct spelling of "skully," so I Googled it, and found Wikipedia has a page dedicated to it, a chain of events that made me incredibly giddy. In writing this blog, I am using the internet to do something else I enjoy: reminiscing about the "old days."

But that's enough of a stroll down memory lane for now. Or is it? Excuse me while I go search on eBay for that metal BeeGees lunchbox I used to carry around in kindergarten.

The Hope Jolt

2009-10-29T20:27:00.000-07:00

Do you remember when you were a child, and your birthday was coming up, and you'd think ahead to your birthday party or a present you hoped to get, and you'd feel a shot of excitement and anticipation? Maybe you, like me, got that feeling as Christmas approached, or on the occasions when I knew I was going see my cousins. Let's call that feeling the Hope Jolt. As we get older the Hope Jolt gets dulled. We still get excited about things, but if we're excited about, say, a trip to the lake, our excitement is tempered by the packing we need to do, our time away from work, the stress of travel.

Lately, however, I've felt the Hope Jolt, but here's the thing: it doesn't appear to be connected to any specific event. I'll have these moments when I feel a rush of promise, when the world suddenly seems to make sense--even just for a second, and when I can see around the edges of the mundane to something great. Spectacular, even. But it's nothing that I can name specifically. It's just a feeling a get sometimes.

My life consists of a fair amount of work, some fun, and a lot of everyday stuff: laundry, cooking meals, cleaning up. It's weird to be folding clothes and then all of a sudden feel the universe click into place around you, and then have the feeling disappear again just as quickly. I have a theory, though, a reason for why this seems to be happening more recently. The truth is, I can't know what life has in store for me. Triumphant or tragic, I just have no idea what's coming up. I can make plans, and I can work and do everything in my power to make things happen, but the fact remains that unforeseen situations will arise to change my plans. Perhaps the Hope Jolt is a signal from somewhere--maybe it's just from inside of me--reminding me that the future will change my plans, but that it may change them for the better.

A friend once told me, if we got the things we wanted in just the way we imagined, how boring that would be for us! The Hope Jolt is the promise that sometimes--not all the time, but every once in a while--something incredibly good and unforeseen will make things turn out even better than we could have imagined. Or maybe we'll just end up following a path we didn't really expect to follow, but in the end, the path leads to greater success, more love, more friendship, or financial security, who knows?

We've all heard stories of the unexpected ruining plans: the jury duty summons that canceled the vacation, the car repairs that drained the Christmas money, the broken arm that spoiled the summer, the lay-off that put just about everything in jeopardy. We hardly ever recognize the times that the unexpected actually helped us along, partially because those unexpected benefits often start out as those very same disappointments. We don't know until much, much later that the lay-off prompted the move to a better job, or that the guy sitting next to you in the emergency room the day you broke you arm will actually introduce you to the person who will help you get that dream project off the ground.

The truth is, seeing the links between disappointments and future successes is difficult. And seeing the true nature of an unexpected situation is nearly impossible. The Hope Jolt is just a reminder that good things do happen. Sometimes it's the obvious lottery win, and sometimes it's much more subtle. So feel excited every now and then. Feel like your birthday is coming up because there is greatness afoot. You just might not know it yet.

DecaAwesome Returns

2009-10-21T17:53:00.000-07:00

Just in time for Halloween, the DecaAwesome list rises from the dead!! It's not exactly the Zombie DecaAwesome list, but that's a good idea for a themed list later in the month. This is a list of things I just plain like. It's been a stressful month so I think it's a good idea to remember some of the simple joys in life. Also, I watched Amelie last night and I always feel so inspired and whimsical when I watch that movie. Damn you and your irrepressible charm, Audrey Tatou!!

1. Reading a magazine backwards. Sure, I start out by reading it front to back, but soon I turn to the back cover and page through it backwards. I still read articles in order of course, but the paging is done back-to-front. I don't know why I do it, but it makes me happy, so there.

2. Being finished with grading. I love seeing that stack of newly graded papers, each one marked up and ready to be returned to its owner. I spent hours earlier today grading a midterm and I can't explain that wash of joy when the last paper was graded and out of my hands. Accomplishment!

3. The Daily Show. I get a lot of news from the Daily Show, I'm not ashamed to admit. TDS makes me laugh and throws down some facts. Also, Jon Stewart's comic rage is pure genius. This week, TDS is on a break. *sigh*

4. Reading a book that goes down easy. Sure, Proust is worth the effort, and Dostoevsky will break your head while it's breaking your heart, but it's nice every once in a while to read something that doesn't, you know, challenge so much. A book that you eat up like a plate of cookies. I'm reading a book like that right now, and I'm enjoying it very much. Proust is in the on-deck circle.

5. Chocolate. True chocolate lovers will call me a poseur since I don't like dark chocolate, but those people can jump in the lake. I bought myself a Cadbury Caramello on Saturday and I've spent the last few nights eating pure chocolate-caramel joy, three squares at a time. YUM.

6. Trader Joe's. It's not my normal grocery store since I have to drive a ways to get to a decent one, but last night I decided it was time to go and get those products exclusive to Trader Joe's. I won't bore you with a list-within-a-list of what was purchased, but I will tell you that after my roomie and I returned from TJ's, he made a kick-ass salmon dinner that was paired beautifully with a $7 Riesling. Ah, TJ's.

7. Binder clips. It's wrong how into office supplies I am, but there we are. Staples now has this paper clip station wherein you can fill a tub (small, medium, or large) with binder clips, paper clips, fasteners, and the like. I filled a medium tub with whimsical and practical clips (some are shaped like G clefs!) for school. The clip I most often use is the red one with the "X" on it. I put my to-be-graded papers in it. When they're graded, the papers get transferred to the green binder clip with the check mark on in. That's how you know they're done!

8. Glade Scented Oil Candles. They come in a pretty tin, which, is pretty much all I need; I love tins. Anyhoo, you burn these little candles and they smell wonderful without being too strong or cloying. The tin is reusable, and you can get refills for the candles. My recommended scent: Clean Linen. Pretty much says it all. You get the smell of laundry without actually having to do any. WIN!

9. Half.com. I just bought some DVDs I've been putting off buying because they were never going on sale. You can get things both new and used, and it's part of eBay so you know you can trust it. I now own all of Samurai Jack, and season 4 of Supernatural. Take that, Target, for not putting it on sale. Now some independent seller in Minnesota gets my money and you get the shaft! (I'm just kidding, Target. We cool.)

10. Fall weather. The weather over here is a little bipolar at the moment, but that's okay. We have experienced beautiful fall weather intermittently. I'm no fan of winter, and I know that's what fall leads into, but it is such a wonderful thing to walk around in the crisp autumn air, wearing a sweater or a jacket. Fall means crunching leaves when you walk, watching TV at night with a blanket tucked around your feet, buying fresh apple cider at the supermarket, deciding on a Halloween costume, roasting pumpkin seeds, and making holiday plans. It's lovely.

Confessions of a Quidditch Player

2009-10-14T15:58:00.000-07:00

I never played organized sports as a kid. Not really. I suppose you could count gym class and some catch and stickball with my Dad and sister, but that's about as far as it went. I have one trophy from my first eighteen years and it's for choir. Yeah, I'm that girl. I played intramural soccer and volleyball in high school, but that was more of a joke than anything. Sometime during college, I got it into my head that I was going to play on the softball team, but one introductory meeting later I realized I couldn't make the time commitment. After college I studied martial arts, but team sports were still definitely missing from my resume.

Last weekend I saw Whip It, the roller derby movie starring Ellen Page. It's a fun movie, perhaps a bit long and formulaic at points, but still a rollicking good time. It made me want to join a roller derby team, and I was heartened by the portrayal of players who were still rolling at my age. I probably won't join a team since I work so damn much (and if I find something else to take me away from writing, my head might explode). But still, that sense of camaraderie and girl power and ass-kicking fun is so tempting. Driving home from the movie, it occurred to me that I had participated in some similar ass-kicking fun.

I've played Quidditch.

Readers of the Harry Potter series and viewers of the movie will at present protest that Quidditch is a magical sport, impossible for Muggles, impossible without brooms, enchanted bludgers, and the golden snitch. Magical Quidditch is indeed impossible, but Muggles have come up with ways to play it (yes, there are multiple versions) and I have had the honor to play four times. Each time I played it was while attending a Harry Potter convention. The first was in Orlando about six or seven years ago when we were still working out how to play Quidditch. We played inside the hotel in a ballroom. On this occasion, I didn't play on a team, per se; I was a snitch-carrier. Since our snitches didn't fly, we had to run with them while the seekers chased us. There were a few snitch carriers and we carried either decoy snitches or the real deal.

A few years later, I played Water Quidditch at the Harry Potter convention in Las Vegas. My team was The Giant Squids (we called ourselves the "Squiddies") and we played and practiced in the gorgeous pool at the hotel. I was a beater on this team, but I substituted as a keeper for one of our games. I liked Water Quidditch a lot, but my favorite kind of Quidditch is Mud Quidditch.

It was October of 2005, in Salem, Massachusetts. The Saturday of the Quidditch tournament dawned gray and chilly. All of the teams in the tournament met at the House of the Seven Gables for a special breakfast. My team: the Punctuation Pixies. Our logo features a tough-as-nails pixie giving y'all the finger (the British version). We had met the previous day in person for practice and strategizing, but we'd all met months ahead of time on the interwebs. All of us are writers and/or artists so the physical part of the game was not our strong suit. Where we owned was in the attitude.

For some reason, the Pixies had a reputation as a badass team right off the bat, even though all of our people were nerds and dorks. We probably had one real athlete on the team, but there we were, with a huge cheering section. Our fans screamed the loudest and threw glitter on us as we took the field. We chanted "Mud and Blood" to get psyched up before our matches, and when people took our picture we gave 'em the finger (the British version). The rain that came down even before we started the tournament couldn't dampen our amazing pixie-ness. Or maybe it was just the sugar; we chugged pixie sticks throughout the game. We played our little dork hearts out. We played in the mud as hard as we could. Did we score? Not a single point. Not once. In either of our games. But we were ebullient anyway. After our final defeat, we dove headfirst into the mud on the pitch and rolled around, laughing and screaming and having an awesome time.

The Fizzing Whizbees ended up winning the Quidditch Cup that day, but guess which team made the front page of the Oracle (the daily paper for the convention) under the headline "MUD AND BLOOD!!" That's right, the Punctuation Pixies scored the place of honor. In addition to that, on the way from the park back to the convention (the tournament was played in a public park nearby) people began stopping us--for our autographs. Yes, the losingest, muddiest team in the tournament signed so many autographs on the way back to the hotel that the mud on our bodies hardened into a cement-like substance. Not only that, but NPR interviewed us as did some local television show. At the leaving breakfast at the end of the convention, the Fizzing Whizbees got the Quidditch Cup, but the Pixies got the most applause.

Two years after that I had the opportunity to play for the Pixies again in New Orleans. We played in a park on the banks of the Mississippi. We lost again, but once again, we didn't care because it was ass-kicking fun.
This is a frame-grab of me playing Quidditch in New Orleans. This was the moment after I made my only save of the day. It's from a video that MTV News shot (I still can't believe they managed to film my only athletic move ever). It's still up on the web, and this is the thumbnail that advertises the story. I think that's pretty cool.

Thousands, probably millions, of kids have played soccer and little league. My team sport? Quidditch. How many people can say that?

...And Together We'll Be Fine

2009-10-07T11:08:00.000-07:00

It is indeed a blessing that there are different personalities in the world and that there are people who like and excel at different kinds of things. I just spent the last six working days in jury duty, and during that time I watched lawyers and judges hustling through downtown with their file folders. Suits and shiny ties on the men, suits and painfully high heels for the women. I watched these folks going through their day-to-day jobs and I thought to myself, 'If I had to do this every day, I'd end it all.' It's not the suits so much, I wear them myself sometimes (although I prefer jeans and I refuse to wear heels unless it's a really special occasion). It's not the research that bothers me either. I love research. And libraries. No, it's the rest of the job. I don't have the stomach to argue every day. When I talk to groups of people the only thing I want hanging in the balance is knowledge, not someone's fate. I also lack the command of logic that I think might be necessary for lawyering. I assume it's necessary since that's what the LSAT tests. I'm decidedly illogical and often silly. I'm just glad those lawyers and judges do their jobs, and perhaps love doing their jobs, because lawyering and judging are not the jobs for me.

Likewise, I don't think I could work in an office 9-5 every day. I worked in an office all through college and afterwards. A few summers ago I temped for an agency that sent me out as an executive assistant for bigwigs in television production. I hated it. I hated making copies and setting up meetings. I hated rolling calls. I hated being told what to do all the time. I hated being "on-call" for someone else. It's not an existence I am comfortable with. But there are people who excel at such things, who pride themselves on their organization, their ability to predict what will need to be done, who thrive on the pressure to get things done right now. And I salute those people, because I am not one of them.

The job I feel most comfortable in is teaching. Unlike the office jobs that seemed a bit unreal to me at the time--why am I doing this? who is this helping? I never see or meet anyone affected by my work--teaching always seems so real to me. It's happening right now. It's alive and unpredictable. Teaching means interacting with people. In some ways, it's performing. I suppose that's one reason why people might not want to have my job. It requires public speaking, the ability to ad-lib and think on your feet. Patience is not a requirement, but it sure does help. I love doing it because the gratification is almost instant, and the payoffs are huge.

When jury duty was finally over yesterday, I sighed with relief. I didn't have to return to the courthouse again. I could get back to my life and back to the job that I am supposed to have. It was good to see how other people live, though. Good to see bailiffs, judges, attorneys, clerks, court reporters, and police officers all doing their jobs. Even though I'm not at the courthouse today, it's business as usual over there. Juries are being selected, the unwieldy vehicle that is the American justice system rolls on. But I'm here and I don't miss being there.

Besides, they'll call me back for a visit soon enough.

What A Mind Looks Like

2009-09-28T08:42:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I saw an unremarkable movie called Dreamcatcher. It's based on an unremarkable book by Stephen King (I love some of King's books; this one was okay--not great, but okay). The one thing about the film that really stuck with me, though, is the representation of a particular character's mind.In the course of the film, this character--Jonesy--is invaded by an alien parasite. The alien wants to find out specific information from this character and reads his mind. But Jonesy's mind is like a warehouse with file cabinets, and he is able to hide the "file" the alien is looking for. The scenes in the mind were my favorite and they got me to thinking about what the inside of my mind might look like.

I can tell you this: it's probably sloppy. Sloppy, but organized. I have a system, but only I know how it works. I'm thinking that it's like the attic of an old house. Some slats in the roof are missing, so a decent amount of light streams in, but there are plenty of dark, dusty corners too. I'm guessing that there are probably file cabinets in there, you know, to keep the facts straight. I imagine a file cabinet full of all the stuff I learned in elementary school. I have a file for the times tables, a file for all the religious stuff I learned in Catholic schools like Holy Days of Obligation, the Seven Sacraments, the Seven Deadly Sins, etc. There's a file full of mathematical formulas like the Pythagorean theorem, BaseXRate=Part, the quadratic equation (I can't see that last one real well. I think this part of the attic has water damage).

In a brighter corner, there's a big basket full of songs. It's not organized in any way, but everything is easily accessible. I imagine that each song looks like an Atari cartridge, and that each day, a different cartridge gets shuffled into the song player. There is always music playing in my head. My mind's ear is a high-tech piece of equipment. It plays my mind's soundtrack, which is probably the most interesting thing about my mind. Bits of remembered conversations, movie lines, song clips, and things I want to say (or didn't say), all vie for air space. And my mind's ear has the ability to play back lots of different kinds of things on command. Everything from entire musicals to my mother's voice to the sounds of different instruments to the part of Family Guy that made me laugh last night. The mind's ear helps me remember things and allows me to do voices and impressions. It's probably the best-kept part of my brain.

There's a dusty screen up there that acts as my mind's eye. It's not that great a set-up. It works, but it's not very detailed. It's pretty good with faces, but not that great with locations. In fact, the channel that supplies me with information on how to get places is pretty much out all the time. I think squirrels chewed through the cable.

Then there's the stuff I use every day. I imagine that this stuff is in tote bags hanging on pegs. In real life, I keep my life organized by having different bags for different things. I have a bag for work, a bag for church choir, a bag for tutoring jobs, a bag for the radio show. When I'm leaving the house, I choose the bag(s) I will need for the day and take them with me. In each bag are the important objects, information, and books I need for each job. Inside my mind, I imagine that all of the facts and skills I need for a certain task are in the tote bag for that task. The teaching tote bag, for example, has musical facts, anecdotes, classroom management skills, ideas for projects and homeworks, mnemonic devices, and a buttload of patience.

Finally, and most importantly, are the organ-grinder's monkey and the Tinkerbell-ish fairy. My mind isn't a still-life. It's full of activity. The monkey runs around and pulls files out of cabinets. He overturns the music basket, pulls the tote bags off their pegs and generally causes a ruckus. He makes me funny. He makes me say random things. He shows me a funny cartoon that causes me to laugh out loud in the supermarket. The fairy, on the other hand, makes me creative. She flies around the attic, looking at different things, finding ways to make new things out of them. She helps me turn ideas into stories. She's the one who suggested I write this blog about the inside of my mind. She sprinkles fairy dust on ordinary stuff, turning it magic.

What is your mind like? Think about it. Take a picture of it. Is it an attic or a basement? A wide open field or a small room? Is it light or dark? Does it look just like your desktop wallpaper? Or your screensaver? Is it a place that you avoid? Or the most comfortable place in your life. My mind may be dusty and cluttered, and it may have a slightly hyper monkey running around in it, and weird music playing 24/7, but it is the finest palace imaginable.

The 15 Commandments

2009-09-21T11:25:00.000-07:00

I was waiting for someone on Saturday, and whilst waiting I was reading a story in the New Yorker about Zappos. You know, the shoe company. Zappos has a really intricate customer service policy and a pretty neat mission statement. Well, even though I've done mission statements in the past (they're great for a bulletin board!), I was inspired to think up some rules for myself. You might find some of them useful too. Call them my 15 Commandments. Because sometimes, 10 just isn't enough.

1. Visit New York at least once a year.

NY is where my family lives, so this one means go and connect with family. Remember who you are and where you came from. Also, drink and laugh with the people who made you.

2. Talk to family at least once a week.

No matter where I am in the world, no matter what I'm doing, it's a good idea to talk to parents, sister, or grandmothers. Which reminds me, I forgot to call my grandmas yesterday. Must do it today.

3. Don't lose sleep for work.

Work will be there in the morning. It's better to call it a night and start fresh in the morning than lose a night's sleep over work. Losing sleep is not healthy for me, and the repercussions last longer than a single night. Besides, sleep is where I'm a Viking.

4. Be open to new ideas.

I don't want to be one of those set-in-her-ways people. I reserve the right to reject an idea after I've given it some thought, but being open to new ideas, things, and people is definitely a good plan.

5. Don't be afraid to let old ideas go.

If it ain't working, get rid of it. It's better to admit that it's wrong than to waste time and energy trying to make it right. You can waste a lot of time, energy, money, etc. on such things. Believe me, I know.

6. Be truthful whenever possible.

This is a new one for me. I'm not saying I'm a liar, but it has in the past been my modus operandi to say I'm ok when I'm not, or to agree to something when I wasn't 100% convinced. I'm trying to be more truthful about my feelings and opinions, especially with loved ones. I'm pretty honest at work. It's just in the social life where I roll with the punches maybe a bit too often.

7. Make time for a friend.

I originally wrote "Make time for a meal with a friend" because nothing is better than sitting down to breakfast, lunch, or dinner with someone you love. Catching up is important and it's worth the time. Sure, you can grab lunch in 15 minutes at a drive through, but do you get to reminisce about that time we did that crazy thing? Do you get to drink a glass of wine? Do you get to laugh? I changed it to "Make time for a friend" because some of my friends live far away and a meal is pretty impossible. But I can make a phone date and catch up.

8. Write as often as possible.

For me, this is hard because writing takes a backseat to my other jobs. I do it when everything else is done. And guess what, everything else never gets done. So I just have to prioritize. Blogging every week seems to help this so at the very least, I'll do that.

9. Focus your energy on important tasks.

I am a laser beam sometimes. When I was writing my dissertation, I was a laser beam. I was focused and disciplined, and it was one of the most productive times in my life. I don't always find this focus nowadays. My energy is diffused in too many directions, but I plan to streamline a little bit so I can get some of that focus back.

10. Keep a journal.

Absolutely essential for me. Keeps me honest with myself. Should only be published after my death. And the deaths of everyone that's in it.

11. Be kind and fair.

Probably the thing I find the easiest to do.

12. Allow yourself a break now and then.

Probably the thing I find most difficult. It's like I have two settings: I'm either productive, getting stuff done, or I'm lazy and useless. There's only a sliver of ground between these now. It's a challenge to turn the computer off and stop working. It's hard for me to just sit, but I've been cultivating mindfulness, and it's been miraculous. If only I could just do it more often.

13. Visit at least one new place a year.

It's a big planet, and I haven't even seen the pyramids yet. I've gone a lot of places so far, but I think that it's a good idea to aim for a new destination every year. Ireland, Amsterdam, hell, I've never been to Chicago. The experience is always going to be worth the time and the money.

14. Be generous with your time and talent, but save some for yourself.

You can give so much away that you become empty, but only if you don't take care of yourself. I have to keep enriching myself and feeding myself so that there's always something to share. If I do that, I'll never run out.

15. Use anger as a fuel, not a weapon.

You're pissed off, right? Annoyed at something? Let it spur you to action. Let it be the combustion that drives your engine. Do something about it. Or just do something. Go for a run, start a campaign, talk it out with someone, vote, blog, rescue a kitten, donate some money, draw a picture, organize a committee, write a letter, seek out a hug, cry and then dry your tears and think of something you can do about it. For God's sake, don't yell at people, hit anyone, drive unsafely, destroy inanimate objects, waste time with blame, or just let it seethe. Anger is powerful so USE it to light up a city.

And a bonus one:

Laugh.

At most things. At things that are overly serious. At the driver who's making you late. At the way things appear to be falling apart. At yourself. In the grand scheme of things, it'll probably be okay. So take a step back and see the ridiculousness. You'll live longer.

3-2-1 Contact!

2009-08-29T22:04:00.000-07:00

I found chemistry and physics impenetrable subjects in high school. In college, I stuck close to medical anthropology and left bio, chem, physics, and astronomy to the science heads. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested. In fact, I'm a big fan of science shows on TV. Nova, The Universe, Planet Earth, How It's Made, Mythbusters, are always welcome on my TV, but my love of all those shows started with a program that aired when I was a child. It all started with 3-2-1 Contact.

3-2-1 Contact aired on PBS in the 1980s. Every week had a theme like food or gravity or computers (laughable in the 80s). At the beginning of its run, 3-2-1 Contact episodes featured vignettes with three college-aged buddies: Marc, Trini, and Lisa who would perform science experiments at their hangout and sometimes go out and visit scientific places. Trini went to a lab with an electron microscope, Lisa got to take an enviable hot air balloon ride, Marc went to a speech therapy lab. They panned for gold. They helped out a glass-blower. It was awesome.

At the end of episodes, there would be an episode of the Bloodhound Gang--a filmed multi-day mystery that could be solved using such science-y things as a pinhole camera or disappearing ink. One mystery hinged on finding out what kind of wood does not float (hint: it's ironwood). Also, the Bloodhound Gang had an awesome theme song that I will be happy to sing on request. Oh! One more thing! The kids who called themselves Bloodhound Gang (Vicki was their leader) worked for the never-seen Mr. Bloodhound. When the phone rang, one of the kids would answer, "Whenever there's trouble, we're there on the double. Mr. Bloodhound isn't here."

Have I mentioned that I LOVED this show??

As the years went by, Marc, Trini, and Lisa (and their hangout) were replaced. The new kids sometimes hung out at a diner. They still visited labs, doctors' offices, and observatories, but the weekly themes got more ambitious. In fact, one week-long theme took 3-2-1 Contact to Antarctica. We got to see a penguin rookery (where I learned the work "rookery") and saw some of the scientific research done at the South Pole. The kids would invariably have a "friend" in the place where they visited--a friend who would take them around, translate, and show them everything they needed to know. This spawned a joke between a friend and me when, many moons ago, my friend Michele planned a Chinese New Year party. In order to obtain authentic food and treats for the party, we went shopping in NYC's Chinatown. Among the signs written only in Chinese characters, we were at a loss as to where to go, or even what shops would have what we needed. I can't remember who said the following, but I suspect it was me. "You know what we need?" one of us said, "we need to suddenly meet up with out friend Ling who will take us to all the right places." Sadly, Ling never materialized, but a store selling pork buns was discovered, and the party ended up being great.

When the "new" 3-2-1 Contact was on, I was probably about 12 or so. It was a spongy age. I watched those shows and absorbed everything. I didn't know it was happening. I just knew I loved the show. Oh, I wish I had had a DVR back then! I subscribed to 3-2-1 Contact Magazine for far longer than I probably should have. (I was old.) One week featured a series of shows that was a particular favorite. It was a series on Malaysia. At the time, I wondered if I'd ever make it halfway across the world to this fascinating place. Well, crazily enough, I got to go this summer. I didn't get to see a native Malaysian forge a Kris dagger (like I did on the show), but I did get to see Malaysia's oldest rubber tree.

The strange fact is that this little show had a huge effect on me. I still think about it a lot, about the time Trini made a boat out of clay, or the time Marc got to put numbers on bees and watch them do their wiggle dance, or the time we learned how much stuff someone at the South Pole has to wear to keep warm. And every damn time I see a hot air balloon, I think of Lisa getting to take that magical trip. I didn't end up a scientist, but I did end up curious about everything, which is, I suppose, is even better than knowing everything.

Back to Work

2009-08-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been more than two months since I last posted. In my defense, a lot has been going on, including--but not limited to--a new niece, a conference in Malaysia, and a visit home. But it's time to get into the lovely comfortable routine of Back-to-School (and that also means getting back into the Blog-A-Week thing). I'm actually looking forward to a little bit of routine because I've spent the last two months in constant motion, and it'll be a relief to go to the same place every day for a while. Besides that, I like my job a lot and that's what this particular blog entry is all about. I actually wrote the following while in Malaysia, but this is the first opportunity I've had to type it here.

Almost every job has some sort of hidden perk. I say 'almost' because there's just nothing redeeming about a telemarketing. Boring jobs, for instance, can be great for catching up on crossword puzzles. Einstein's boring job at the patent office allowed him a lot of time to conduct what he called "thought experiments." Lovers of post-it notes, file folders, and paper clips (you know who you are) may have office jobs where such things are available for pilfering. Any job can offer such unadvertised benefits as free ill-gotten photocopies or even mortgage incentives from the company credit union. But the hidden perks are not the kinds of things that come up in the final interview. They are the kinds of things that you only find out about on the job.

I have been constantly surprised at the hidden perks at my job. The unconcealed perks are quite good too: wonderful supportive colleagues, amazing students, an office of my own, a steady paycheck, medical and dental insurance, a parking spot, and vision coverage that allows me a new pair of glasses every two years. As I start my fourth year as a full-timer, what I've noticed is that the hidden perks were also completely unexpected.

Being a music teacher--specifically a teacher of voice--I am there at the beginning of musical careers, and therefore involved in a bustling music scene. Sometimes I get to participate in musical events. One of my former students is a songwriter, and he asked me to sing back-up on some of his songs. With him, I've had the chance to play gigs in cool little clubs and bars, something I've always wanted to do. I'm getting my chance now, and I never expected that. How fun is that?

For the last two years, one of my standard assignments has been a CD review. It's designed to get my voice students to think and write critically about their vocal models. The unexpected consequence is that I learn about musicians I might never know otherwise. Some of my discoveries have been new and cutting edge acts, and some have been composers and performers of the past. My students have introduced me to Susannah McCorkle, Tegan and Sara, the Pharcyde, Mindless Self Indulgence, the Bloodhound Gang, and Blossom Dearie, among others. For the presence of this new music in my life, I am eternally grateful.

Finally, my job allows me to meet a hundred new people every semester. The majority of those folks come and go, but every once in a while I'll make a friendly connection with a student that lasts after the class is over, and maybe even after they've moved on to another school or another opportunity. I've made three or four really good friends over the last couple of years. Believe me, it's not something I expected. I certainly expected to make friends with my colleagues--and I have, but I never imagined that I would meet some of my closest buddies for the first time by calling their name on the roll sheet. But that's what's so delightful about it.

The unexpected things are sometimes the most fun. My job may be difficult, and teachers these days may have to do a lot with a little, but the hidden perks of the job make it more than worthwhile. After all, there's no supply closet at work; I have to buy my own post-it notes. But that's okay because I've got rhythm, I've got music, and I've got my friends. Who could ask for anything more?

The Key That Opens Many Doors

2009-06-24T20:11:00.001-07:00

Here's my New Yorker resume:

I was born in Long Island Jewish Hospital in 1974. I grew up in Queens, and spent every Sunday of my early childhood in Greenwich Village at my grandparents' apartment. When I was 18 years old, I moved into the Hunter College dorm at 25th street and 1st avenue in Manhattan. I lived in the same dorm room for five years. After that, I moved in with some friends who were living in an apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. When the landlord raised our rent, we moved to Astoria, Queens. It was from there that I moved to Los Angeles.

I lived in New York for a total of 26 years. I've lived in Los Angeles since 2000, but even if I spend the next quarter of a century right here in L.A., I'll always have "New Yorker" as part of my identity. Growing up there--like growing up anywhere--leaves marks on you. It's just that there's a sort of universal definition of "New Yorker." There's not a universal definition for being a native Cincinnatian, so even though being from Cincinnati might be part of someone's identity, what that means may not be obvious to the rest of the world.

But everybody knows that being a New Yorker means being tough and streetwise. It means having an accent wherein one pronounces the word coffee "kawwfee." It means being loud and outgoing. It means being the type of person who does not suffer fools gladly, or, in the local parlance, "ya don't take crap from nobody." When folks from all over the world find out you're from New York, they make a number of assumptions about you. These may or may not be true, but a New Yorker can take pleasure in either fulfilling people's expectations or subverting them.

Another interesting part of the New Yorker effect is this: many non-native New Yorkers have lived there at some point in their lives. These people often look back on their time in New York as one of the most enjoyable times of their lives, and they will instantly start reminiscing about old hang-outs or quintessential New York moments. I can make a friend really fast with a person who loved eating Ess-A Bagels when they lived near Peter Cooper Village. ("Really? Me too! I used to stand on that long line--remember that ridiculous line?--on Sunday mornings and get a bagel with butter and eat it in the park!")

I've met two people in the last couple of weeks who lived in the same part of Brooklyn as I did, and both times it automatically built a rapport. Today, I had kawfee, I mean coffee, with an old high school friend who said that a property manager showed her the "good apartment" once she found out my friend used to live in Bay Ridge. Job interviewers will go off on joyful tangents when they see your educational background includes a stint in the Big Apple. Here in L.A., die-hard east coasters will assume that New Yorkers are somehow more "real" than our Angelino peers. (I've met plenty of "real" Angelinos, by the way.) Folks are dying to know if you really believe that New York pizza kicks every other pizza's ass.

The New Yorker effect is a wonderful thing. It's like the key that opens many doors. For my friend, the mere mention of Brooklyn was literally the key that opened the door to the "good apartment." Knowing New York is an advantage in business. It's a brilliant ice-breaker at parties. But more than that, it's common ground. People who are from there, and those who have lived there even for a little while, hold New York in their hearts. Knowing that your heart includes New York, and my heart includes New York means that our hearts have something in common. Isn't that the definition of a friend?

Look Up

2009-06-15T18:43:00.000-07:00

When you're riding the 6 train at 2 o'clock in the morning, it's probably a good idea to keep your head down. I'll call this head-down position "defensive stance." The years I spent riding buses and trains has bred in me a tendency to walk and sit in public with my head angled downward. And if I'm sitting in a public place, say at a coffee shop or on a bench somewhere, my "defensive stance" includes sticking my head in a book or reading something on my Blackberry. But this has got to stop.

It turns out that when you're walking and looking at your shoes, or when you drink that latte and constantly check for new texts, you're missing out on something: everything.

At first I developed my "defensive stance" for safety. When I started riding the train a lot, I was a petite teenager, so keeping my head down discouraged unwanted conversations, especially late at night. When I moved to California, I rode the bus for almost five years and kept up my defensive stance. Once I started driving, I didn't really need the stance anymore. But old habits are hard to break, so I kept on ducking, avoiding the world's gaze, just hanging out inside my own head. And once my personal life started to go south, I seemed to need something to occupy me anytime I was alone. My Blackberry became very important because there was always something to read, always something to do. But now my defensive stance wasn't about my outward safety, it was about avoiding my own thoughts, avoiding the problems that were staring me in the face.

I finally did face those problems. It was difficult to do, and what followed was the most challenging ten-month period of my life. There have been many moments in that time when I've been tempted to stick my head back in a book and live at, say, Hogwarts, rather than in my real life. In other words, my head stayed down for a while. But I have this therapist who's amazing, and she suggested I do something very simple: she told me to look up.

She calls it "mindfulness," an awareness of the things happening around me right now. I was skeptical that it would make any difference in my life. I mean, how could changing the angle of my head or sitting bookless at Starbucks possibly help me heal? But the plain truth is that it has. How? Well, two ways that I can see.

First, by getting my head out of books and off of my Blackberry, I am more likely to address how I truly feel about my life. I am less likely to avoid unpleasant emotions, something I had been doing for years. Second, by picking my head up and looking at a bird, a chair, a picture on a wall, I can get out of my head. I don't think I need to tell you that you can think yourself right down a spiral into hell. You can think yourself into a bad attitude. You can dwell and wallow and make yourself miserable. But if you're mindful, if you pay attention to the simple things around you, you can avoid the pitfalls of brain babble.

Looking up has done wonderful things for me. When I find myself slipping down into the pit, I stop and look around me. When I'm tempted to duck the world, I challenge myself to notice 10 things. Do you know something? The world is a pretty fascinating place. Birds are cute, and they sing and eat french fries off the ground. Women's dresses are really colorful this season. Rain clouds sometimes move quickly. Toddlers whine when they're overtired. Fresh bagels are fun to bite into (and are also superdelicious). Supermarkets are cool inside on a hot day. Trees are ridiculously beautiful, especially in springtime.

When I'm walking, when I'm sitting, when I'm waiting in line at the store, I am starting to learn to abandon my defensive stance. Instead, the voice in my head reminds me to look up. It turns out that life can be pretty cool and interesting, and even when it isn't, I don't have to spend every waking moment thinking at seventy-five miles an hour. I can just watch that adorable little bird eat a french fry that's twice his size. Who knew that could make such a big difference?

I feel like I just woke up.

~Hero

Reminders

2009-06-06T09:12:00.000-07:00

When we're tired at work and at the end of our patience/rope/sanity, sometimes it's difficult to remember why we got involved in our profession in the first place. But sometimes, we get reminders that renew us, and help us go back to that place where we can recall why the hell we started doing this in the first place. For a doctor, it might be saving a life, for a stockbroker, it might be a big fat check. As a teacher, I get probably more validation than say, someone in an office job. My students thank me all the time. They accomplish things; they graduate. So that part of it is mostly pretty cool, but at the end of the semester, one may begin to wonder why one got into music, instead of say, math. The Math Department doesn't have a concert every night for the last month of the semester. The professors in the Math Department don't have to listen to performances for hours on end as final exams. The folks in the Math Department aren't expected to get up on stage at the end of the semester and do math problems in front of their colleagues and students. But in Music, we do all these things. We attend concerts--not just our own, but each other's. We listen to juries and final performances. We all perform in the Faculty Recital. I did four performances in that recital. Not to mention that in the last week--which is finals week, by the way--I was in the Composer's Club fundraiser on Monday night, the Opera Club performed Tuesday (I am the faculty moderator for the club), I came to Wes' concert on Wednesday, and I performed in the Composer's Club concert on Thursday. Why the hell did I go into music in the first place?!?

How wonderful then, for me to have two reminders yesterday, just when I was feeling my lowest and most burnt out. It was about 2 in the afternoon. I had just sat for four hours of final performances, and I was dragging myself down to my office. I got barely three hours of sleep the night before so I was yawning and sleepy and wondering when I was going to get to sleep late again. It didn't look good. I opened the main office door (it's a suite of offices I share with five other people) and heard a beautiful sound: Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

Now, I don't have to tell some of you, but Beethoven's 7th is one of the three pieces of music I credit with making me a musician.* My colleague was playing B7 in her office because, after listening to some of her piano students mangle great works of art, she needed to "remember what real music sounded like." She offered to turn it down if it was bothering me, but I said, "turn it up," instead. We sat there in our offices, shuffling around our stupid paperwork, listening all the while. During the second movement (my favorite part of the symphony), I walked to the doorway of her office, and we exchanged a few words about how amazing the music was. I barely remember what we said, I just leaned on the door jamb, staring at nothing, remembering that music is indeed a beautiful thing. A decade and a half ago, this same piece helped me make the decision to study music seriously, and here it was reminding me that even though I was burnt out and sick of it all, that music was (and is) still a magical thing that I am lucky to do every day.

And if that weren't enough, my friend Jon took me out to see John Brion last night at the Largo. Jon, T, and I had an amazing Japanese dinner beforehand at a place where you grill your own food (including a birthday s'more at the end!!), then we had drinks at the Roger Room, and then we went to Largo. John Brion is an unbelievable musician. He's just made out of music, that's all I can think to say about him. He plays everything on stage, makes samples and loops and effectively plays in a band consisting entirely of...himself. He'll play a drum loop that plays continuously while he goes over to the piano and adds a piano loop over that. Then there are synthesizers that sound like flutes and space age keyboards and guitars, and he just layers the hell out of everything. And some of it is planned out (he has original songs), but sometimes he'll riff on something pre-existent. When he asked for requests, people yelled out everything from his songs to "Freebird" to "It's Rainin' Men" (T asked for that one and JB said he didn't think anyone had ever asked for it before). I requested Beethoven's Seventh, of course! The layered music often has beautiful, crazy harmonies that would have Chopin and Liszt jumping for joy. He's a hell of a pianist, and his timing as a drummer (and in general) is impeccable.

There were many incredible moments--the "Stairway to Heaven" finale was breathtaking (he started it on vibes!)--but something happened to me during one of the first songs he played. As I mentioned, I was tired yesterday, so even though I was having fun, I was struggling to stay with it when the curtain went up. He started this one loop. It was the last four measures of a song, and he kept adding to it. Piano, string sounds, the theremin-like keyboard, guitar. It was a wash of sound over a simple progression that kept looping back upon itself. And somewhere in the thick plaid of sound that he created, I was suddenly, fiercely happy to be alive, to be there, and to be a musician.

He ended the evening with an encore. He asked for requests and someone yelled out "Frere Jacques." We laughed, but then he played it on the piano. Basically it was variations on the theme, played simply at first, but with growing complexity throughout. One version had this creeping, descending bassline that moved through harmonies that would have made Bach cringe, but sounded rich and beautiful to twenty-first century ears. The variations lasted a couple of minutes, but he managed to touch on at least 150 years of music history. It was Debussy for a bit, then Liszt, then Chopin, John Adams for a second, Steve Reich for a moment. I wanted it to last forever, but what made it great was that it didn't. It is made all the more special because it was live and ephemeral and it will never happen like that again.

So I remember now why I did this...just in time for summer school! It's okay, though. I'm grateful to have a job. And I'm extremely and forever grateful that it's a job where I get to experience and share music every day.

~Hero

*the other two pieces are Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, and the Soundtrack to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Desert Island Discs

2009-05-09T15:11:00.000-07:00

I've been working on a list of ten desert-island discs. This list has been in flux for the last two decades, or so. If I found myself on a desert island that had CD or MP3 capabilities (but no way of escape), here are probably the discs I'd bring with me. You'll notice that they're all rock, but I'm hoping the powers that be who allow me to bring 10 CDs to a desert island will let me bring 10 CDs in different genres (i.e. Classical, soundtracks, etc.). In no particular order:

1. The Bends - Radiohead. I know other people like OK Computer more, but I absolutely love the soundscape of this record. It really feels like its own world.

Fave line: "She looks like the real thing. She tastes like the real thing."

2. Whatever People Say I Am That's What I'm Not - Arctic Monkeys. I love the cleverness of the lyrics, and it makes me want to jump around. There is not a song on this album that I do not adore vigorously. They're second album is also amazing.

Fave line: "You can pour your heart out around 3 o'clock, when the 2 for 1's undone the writer's block."

Honorable mention: "I see your frown and it's like looking down the barrel of a gun."

3. With Teeth - Nine Inch Nails. I had a really hard time with this one. I wanted to choose a NIN album and I know Pretty Hate Machine so well, I can sing it to myself, I don't even need to hear it anymore. This album is newer and a little less known to me. But I figure I'll want a couple of lesser-known CDs in with my old favorites. It's a sometimes angry record and it came out when I was particularly pissed off.

Fave line: "I just made you up to hurt myself. And it worked. Yes it did. There is no you, there is only me."

4. So Much for the Afterglow - Everclear. This is the soundtrack to the wildest year of my life. It was also the mental soundtrack to my first novel. If I wanted to get back into writing it after a while away, I'd listen to the first couple of songs and be right back there in the thick of it.

Fave line: "They can't hurt you unless you let them."

Honorable mention: "She's perfect in that F&@$d up way that all the magazines seem to want to glorify these days."

5. Velvet Goldmine Soundtrack - Various. A great collection of songs by fantastic artists including Craig Wedren (of Shudder to Think), Grant Lee Buffalo, and Thom Yorke.

Fave line: "We'll take the whole shebang--all or nothing, any day. Ecstasy's the birthright of our gang. We'll take the whole shebang. Free your heart of guilt and shame. Come and take what's yours: the whole shebang."

6. Pony Express Record - Shudder to Think. Keeps you off balance the whole time. Unexpected time shifts and turns of phrase make this a record that keeps you guessing. One of the two albums on this list I heard about because of my ex-boyfriend, Ed.

Fave line: "The Truth, it wears sharp clothes, and ooh, you cannot undress it."

7. Punk in Drublic - NOFX. This is the other record from the Ed years. This is a really tight collection of songs. Brilliantly played and sometimes hilariously funny.

Fave line: "Got a face like Charles Bronson. Straight outta Green Bay, Wisconsin."

8. One Fierce Beer Coaster - The Bloodhound Gang. One of the funniest albums ever recorded, and what makes it even awesomer is that the musicianship is really tight.

Fave line: "Life's short, but hard. Like a body-building elf."

9. Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy - Mindless Self Indulgence. This album is pure energy. Another pissed off record that came into my life--via my now roommate--when I was really angry at stuff. I remember listening to this and saying, "Oh yeah, this record gets where I'm at right now."

Fave line: "I could've been someone instead of falling flat upon my ass."

Honorable mention: "I'm a badass. Tell me I'm a badass."

10. A Rush of Blood to the Head - Coldplay. I know there are people out there who have no love for Coldplay. I don't care what y'all say, this album is beautiful. When I first heard it--around the beginning of 2002--I was still in grad school, but starting research on my dissertation. I was also getting very heavily into Harry Potter. It was a unique time. I felt on the verge of something spectacular, and this album perfectly captured that "butterflies" feeling that I seemed to experience all the time.

Fave line: "Questions of science, science and progress, did not speak as loud as my heart."

Deca-Awesome List for the week of 4/27

2009-04-29T12:08:00.000-07:00

In no particular order (although #1 is definitely #1 to me)

1. My Mom. It's her birthday on Friday and I love her more than anything. Her love is unconditional and that's an amazing gift. I don't have to be a great success for her to love me. I don't have to be married or give her grandkids for her to praise me. She would love me if I was a convicted felon in jail. She'd love me if I had a drug problem. She'd love me if I was a loser. But her love has made me a winner in so many ways. She is understanding and kind, and I owe so much of my success to her. The reason? She is an expert at dealing with people. I'm talking a really high EQ. I grew up watching her melt hearts of stone. She is amazing at reading people.

Someday she will write a book, or maybe we'll write one together. She worries a lot--and always has--but also realizes that her job as a mother is not to pass that worry on to the kids. When I was 18, she said something like this: "I love you so much, and I will miss you when you go off to college. You will always have a place here if you need it, but now is the time for you to move away and make your new life." I know she must have been fighting her instincts in saying something like that, because I know part of her wanted to keep us close. But she unselfishly looked beyond her own worry, and saw what was best for us (Dad helped too, I'm sure). Her love made me brave because I have always known that she (and my Dad) would be there to catch me if I fell. We are very close, almost psychically linked, and when I hug her, I feel like we're a puzzle with all the pieces clicked into place.

2. Being able to help. Nothing is more awesome than having a confused student come to office hours and walk away understanding what they're doing. Sometimes, it's as simple as re-explaining something to them. Sometimes it's just teaching them an alternate method of figuring something out. On the flip side is not being able to help someone who clearly needs it. That's frustrating as all get out.

3. Gel pens. They're not as reliable as a good old ballpoint, but they come in purty colors. The ones I'm using also have monkeys on them, so that's a bonus.

4. "Monkey-fighting." When Snakes on a Plane aired on commercial TV, they had to do something with the famous line from the movie. So, in their infinite wisdom, they changed the R-rated 13-letter word to "monkey-fighting." Yes. I'm not kidding. I couldn't make that up. They might as well have let him say, "I want these 12-sandwich-eating snakes off my plane."

5. Recovery. I have a friend whose Mom is recovering from a stroke, and she's doing great. Her physical therapy is making her stronger, and she's starting to be able to swallow again. She's not all the way back to normal or anything, but she's making progress, and that is a wonderful thing.

6. Doing whatever I want for my birthday. I don't have anyone to answer to, you know? No one who's planning "something special" for me that I don't even care about doing. Also, last year, I gave two finals and moved on my birthday. It sucked. I want this one to be better.

7. Found Time. I was supposed to leave my office to rush over to an appointment, and I was stressing about it a little. But then I checked my messages and found out that the meeting got canceled. Now I'm on Found Time!! (patent pending).

8. The Inner Game of Music. As a musician, I don't really need the advice because I already instinctively do a lot of things they recommend. But it has helped me so much as a teacher because I now have better ways of giving feedback. For instance, I try to make my comments action comments, like "try this" or "be aware of" or "listen for" rather than "don't do this" statements. It's hard to try to "not do" something. That doesn't mean that's not what you're saying, but there's a way to phrase whatever you want in the positive action way.

9. Bagels. I miss being in a city where there are bagel shops every twenty-five feet. If I want a bagel, I can't be spontaneous about it. That's annoying, because I love these bready delights. I only eat a half at a time now because they're huge and full of calories, but it's a nice Sunday morning treat.

10. My paternal grandfather, Frank. If memory serves, today is the (sixth?) anniversary of his death. He was a good man. Kind and funny and generous and silly and game for anything. He ran his own business, and he was tough. When local "businessmen" wanted to extort money from him, he didn't let it happen. He was brave and trustworthy. My sister and I used to go to our grandparents for an afterschool snack and to hang out before our folks got home. Grandpa made the best sandwiches ever. Mine was a ham sandwich on an egg or kaiser roll with orange juice to drink. YUM. I also learned to carve meat watching him and his ham hands. I love that guy, and not just because he bought me ice cream whenever I asked for it, but because he loved and took care of his family, because he doted on his wife, because he raised my father to be a great man, because he was a veteran, because he still looks after my grandmother in his way. He is sorely missed.

Spring Sprang Sprung Sproing

2009-04-25T08:46:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, spring was a vast expanse of time stretching from Easter all the way to those last days of school before summer vacation. It's not like that anymore for a couple of reasons. First, I live in L.A. now and most of our year is like spring. It smells and feels like a beautiful Easter Sunday on a disproportionate number of days. It's amazing, and it's one of my favorite things about living here. But spring is not a season here, really. It's like the default setting. Second, even spring in New York is a truncated affair. I remember there being a couple of months of spring weather. Crocuses and daffodils popping up out of the yellowish grass, cool mornings giving way to warm afternoons, light jacket weather. But that whole thing seems gone. It's dreary old winter, a week of "spring" and suddenly it's humid and hot and summer. Which brings me to my third reason (and this might contribute to the severity of reason #2), as I get older, time just zooms right by. Spring probably felt longer when I was a kid because everything felt longer when I was a kid. The wait for Christmas was interminable, as I recall.

I'm not saying the spring season hasn't actually shrunk in NY, because it really so. My parents can attest to spring being a week or two between snow and mosquitos, but when I was a kid, it was a beautiful time that went on for a while.

Even when I developed allergies, spring was still my favorite season. Who didn't love those first warm days after an eternity in the dark and cold of NY winter? Who doesn't feel renewed by the first green shoots of grass jumping up out of the ground? Who doesn't enjoy shedding layers and layers of down and wool, and re-emerging like a butterfly in a nice light jacket? Wait, did I mean the butterfly was wearing the nice light jacket? Never mind. Spring is awesomeness, and I just figured out why.

It's like a recurring theme with me. Every fourth blog or so (not planned, by the way) I talk about the idea of possibility. Spring is the earth's way of showing us possibility coming to fruition. When I was younger, that time seemed endless, and therefore possibility seemed endless. When spring is shortened (damn you, global warming! ), those flowers don't get to come up with the same glory. That emergence from winter's cocoon isn't quite as sweet.

L.A.'s eight-month-long spring is great, but it's easy to take for granted. Without the awful damp, cold darkness of February, can one really appreciate May? I am grateful to live in a place where we frequently experience cooler mornings, sunny and warm afternoons, and brisk evenings. A few days ago L.A. suffered a two-day heat wave that saw temperatures soar into the triple digits, and I was afraid for a minute that spring had already been replaced by summer. But L.A. doesn't experience that truncated spring yet (and hopefully never will); our summer really hits its stride in August. Today is sunny with a brisk breeze. It feels like Easter Sunday again, and it feels like possibility again.

I feel like I'm coming out of a very long winter, and I'm glad it feels like spring. I'm an orange crocus bulb, no, purple! and I'm just pushing up until my head breaks the surface of the ground. I think I'll go and sit in the sun for a while and drink some water and enjoy spring like a good little flower.

~Hero

Building a Nursery for Possibility

2009-04-19T14:36:00.000-07:00

I had a crazy dream a few nights ago. I don't usually remember my dreams, and if I do, they seldom make sense, but this one freaked me out because it was really vivid. I had no idea it was a dream; it felt scarily real.

In the dream, I was pregnant. I was probably only big enough to be about six months, but, when the baby kicked, I could see the outline of its foot in my belly. In real life, you don't really get that until the last weeks, but it was a dream, so, you know. From my reactions in the dream, I can tell you that this pregnancy was unexpected. I was getting ready to have the baby anyway, even though I was quite distressed about the whole thing, and when I finally woke up, it was with great relief that I realized I had been dreaming. I went back to sleep for a little while after that, but when I woke up, the dream was still on my mind.

Why did I dream this? Well, I just babysat for two little ones last week, so maybe little Michael and April were on my mind. My sister is five months along with her second child. I sent a bunch of baby clothes and stuff to her, so I spent a little time perusing the items in Target's baby section. My own biological clock? Still very much on snooze if the relief I felt upon waking up is any indication. So...what does it mean?

Well, I asked the interwebs, and they suggested that a pregnancy dream can be indicative of a new project, a new idea, about to be born. It can also mean the new start of something. Yes, I thought when I read that. Of course that's it. I am in the process of finishing my second book which has been gestating for quite some time. Also, I have just recently reiterated my pledge to continue writing. I've renewed my vows, so to speak (I wear a band on my right hand that signifies this commitment to my art), so perhaps this is the beginning of a new phase where I make time to write more. Also--and maybe this is a reach--I'm coming up on nine months of being single.

So, there are no human babies in my immediate future, but I am ready, willing, and able to give birth to ideas and stories. My life as a teacher and writer is still very much pregnant with possibility. There's pain in childbirth, there's sometimes pain in the act of creation, even if what you create exists only on a computer screen. But I'm willing to carry this metaphor to its limit. If it means sitting up late with a story that's fussy and colicky, I'm willing to be that story's loving mom. I'm good at feeding and nurturing other people's dreams (I am a music teacher, after all), so perhaps the dream is telling me that it's time to start paying closer attention to my own.

Or it could have just been a crazy dream caused by eating cupcakes too close to bedtime.

DecaAwesome List for the week of 4/13

2009-04-13T14:49:00.000-07:00

The theme of this week's list is high school. Here's a list of ten things that I loved about my high school, St. Francis Prep, Fresh Meadows (that's Queens for all you west coasters), NY.

1. The Alvernian Drama Society. Where else could misfits of all sizes, shapes, and stripes find a haven...and put on dramas and musicals! I have so many good memories of building sets, rehearsing dance numbers, and just hanging out with the coolest, funnest, most interesting people in my school. I made friends there, gained self-confidence there (and promptly lost it again in the next round of auditions), and basically grew up there. I laughed, I cried, I saw turtles in the sky, it was a brilliant thing.

2. The 7-day schedule. We had this overly complicated schedule that we all accepted without question. Here are some of its nuances: every class was assigned a letter A-G (not to mention H period which you could take before official classes began every day); every day, one class would "drop out" and the following day that class would meet for an hour, and then the day after that, that class would be first period. So day 1 was ABCDEF (G dropped out); day 2 was DFEGAB (fourth period "G" was an hour long); day 3 was GADCBE. We had funny mnemonic devices to remember this schedule, including the, er, habits and preferences of some of our beloved teachers. Some were generic, like day 2: Drugs For Every Girl And Boy.

3. The Music Department. Particularly Mr. Zuar's choir, Mr. Zuar's Music History class (I'm a freaking musicologist, so it must have had one hell of an impact), and Mr. Motley's RepCo. I just sang my fool heart out for four years running. Good teachers who were funny (intentionally, and otherwise) and knowledgeable and made me love music so much that I made it my career. The jazz band was pretty awesome too, as I recall.

4. The Seraph. Our newspaper. I wrote features for this thing for all of my four years at the school. At the beginning of junior year, they gave me a regular column to write. I called it "The World Through My Eyes" (with apologies to Depeche Mode). It was basically like this blog, but in print form and with more typos. My junior and senior years, I won a bunch of High School Press awards for my column and for other stories I wrote. It was good experience, and it was the beginning of my (possibly incorrect) thinking that people might actually care what I have to rant about.

5. Joe Claro. My junior year English teacher. His first day at Prep was my first day of junior year. He is quick-witted, hilariously deadpan, and superknowledgeable. We hit it off right away, and we are still friends now. I had lunch with him when I was home visiting at Christmas. Way back when, he helped me find my voice as a writer, and he continues to encourage my work. He is a lovely human being, and Joe and his wife Fran are like family to me.

6. The stage in the auditorium. Seriously, one of the biggest stages I have ever seen at a school. It also dwarfs some Broadway theater stages. It's not only wide, it's deep. And when I watch old RepCo tapes (yes, I still have some), I am amazed at how many people we crammed on that thing. I spent half my time at Prep on that stage. It was like home to me.

7. Three lunch periods. Freshman had "first lunch," i.e. the first half hour of the 1 1/2 hour fourth period/lunch thing. After first lunch, freshman had the whole hour period and the afternoon. It made the afternoon drag on interminably, but at least freshmen didn't have to fight with upperclassmen for food. Juniors had "last lunch," i.e. the last half hour of fourth period. So juniors would have their first four periods (last one of those was the "hour" period) and then lunch. Last lunch made the afternoon go very quickly. Seniors had "split lunch," i.e. a half hour stuck in between two halves of the hour period. Made the hour period fly by. I think sophomore lunch was a wild card. Could be any of them. This was a really good system. The school was huge, so this was a way to feed everyone and stagger the crowds.

8. Cafeteria pizza. God help me, I love that stupid square pizza. I loved it at the roller rink, and I loved it on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in the Prep cafeteria. Honorable mention: those chocolate chip cookies that came three in a package.

9. Eating outside. I and the other misfits ate our lunches away from the madding crowd of cafeteria folks. When the weather really sucked, we'd compromise and eat on the steps, but we tried to stay out of that hornet's nest whenever possible.

10. The smartness of the student body. You had to test to get in, and the standards there were pretty rigorous. Being smart wasn't something you needed to be ashamed of there. It wasn't something you had to hide (like it was in middle school), it was something that was valued, both by the teachers and by the other students. I had friends who were brilliant scientists and artists, and who made the environment fun and stimulating. Only during my Ph.D. studies at USC did I find myself in that kind of environment again.

Bonus: Michele Filorimo. Still one of the funniest people I have ever known. She was a sophomore when I was a freshman, and she took me under her wing. We were unselfconsciously weird together, and I am so excited to still call her a friend. She was my heart during our three shared years at Prep.

Ch- Ch- Ch- Ch- Changes

2009-04-03T08:39:00.000-07:00

If you ask 100 people if they want an exciting life of change vs. a life of routine, most people would say: give me that exciting life! But in reality, some of those same people crave routine and will stick to it slavishly even if they are unhappy and unfulfilled. Some will go so far as to defend it when questioned, and will go to great lengths to ensure that it continues, even if they hate it (they can't admit to themselves that they hate it). And don't think I'm making this point because I'm so far above this behavior; I defended my choices even when I knew they were wrong, and I stayed in an unhealthy routine for years. I suppose I'm something of an authority, but only because I've been there and done that.

When I finished school a couple of years ago, I looked for teaching jobs all over the country. Because of my relationship, I tried to limit my choices to coastal places and cities with film industry connections. I suppose I was ready to move to these places, although I don't know what the reality would have been had I gotten one of these jobs. As it happens, I did get a full time job, a year after I graduated, at a school that was 1.1 mile away from my apartment. Now, I made a compromise and took a job teaching my second area of expertise, not my first choice, and it's still something that bothers me from time to time. But still, here I was with a job, and I didn't have to move, change my cell phone number, buy clothes for a different climate, or say goodbye to my friends.

The friends I graduated with, however, are still looking for jobs all over the country. And it looks very likely that I will be the one staying here, while they are spread to the four winds away from me. V and Z moved to England, and now V has an awesome full-time gig in the midwest. R just had two interviews in the last two weeks, one in Ohio, one in Texas. Now she's got a phone interview in Anthens, GA. RM is looking everywhere for work, and KC has some possibilities that would take him at least three hours away from L.A.

So, change comes, whether you like it or not. I may have gotten a job that meant I didn't have to do another cross-country move, but my old friends seem to be leaving, one by one. Even though it's sad to lose their physical presence in my life, I understand that true friendship is stronger than distance (and having Facebook doesn't hurt). Not to mention that I am so incredibly proud of my friends who are getting jobs in this crazy economy, and I'm grateful that they are able to teach and share their gifts with students. It's bittersweet, I guess.

I have dreams of my own, of course. Dreams of leaving L.A. for a while and traveling, making my living by writing. Making change a way of life. I don't know when and if that will happen. I don't know if I will end up staying in my beautiful job long-term, or if I will ever again live close to my best friends. Uncertainty doesn't bother me that much. I'm a very roll-with-the-punches kind of person. I'm a river that keeps flowing, around obstacles, through passageways, and over ground, both rocky and smooth.

What I am certain of is this: I do know that whatever circumstances I find myself in, they will definitely change, either by the increasing chaos of time's arrow, or by my own hand. Luckily, I'm good friends with chaos, and I'm just crazy enough to shake things up when they get boring.

~Hero

The Big Event

2009-03-29T18:14:00.000-07:00

If things had gone in one direction (and I'm sure such events are still taking place in a parallel universe somewhere), I was supposed to get married this year. The date was set for July. As we all know, this course events was averted through my own efforts, and now that date is just another Saturday. But, something happened this week that has many elements of a wedding: I gave a recital.

How it was like a wedding:

1) I got to wear a pretty dress. It wasn't white, but it was ivory, almost a light butter-yellow. It was sparkly and twinkly and flattering. I didn't have multiple fittings (I didn't even have it altered), and it cost me less than most regular dresses, and probably 5% of what a real wedding dress costs.

2) I had my hair and make-up done for the occasion. A student of mine, YJ, turned the middle part of the Music Office in an ersatz salon, which was funny. Despite the surroundings, she did a spectacular job. It was perhaps the prettiest I will ever look.

3) It took a lot of preparation. I spent months picking out and learning the repertoire for the concert. All the songs were new to me. I had the idea for a recital maybe a year ago, and I rehearsed and practiced and dedicated a lot of time to the planning and execution.

4) There were flowers involved. Of course, they all came after the fact, but that's okay. One of my students gave me the prettiest bunch of flowers I have EVER received. Gigantic orange roses (darker at the tips of the petals), huge lilies, and some flowers I don't even know what they are, all in one spectacular bunch. Wow. I also received other lovely bouquets which were beautiful and are decorating my house now.

5) Music was involved. Duh.

6) It was video-documented for future generations. The recital went so well, I was thinking about putting some clips up on YouTube. (Although, entre nous, I think that the lens on the camera is weird and that I look like a giant ivory whale at some parts of the video. Please note that I am not actually fat in real life. See the DecaAnnoying list for more details.)

7) Most importantly, my friends and colleagues came out to see it. Of course my family was missing from the picture, but that's why God made DVDs. Still, the place was packed--students sitting in the aisles--and it was just a room full of love and support.

How it was not like a wedding:

1) There was no reception or food. Later on in the day, though, a bunch of folks I know came out with me for drinks and eats, and we had ourselves a hell of a time.

2) It was inexpensive. The dress cost me next-to-nothing, and I didn't have to rent a hall or anything. I think the only thing I spent money on were downloads from iTunes, photocopies, and gifts for my accompanists and other helping hands. I don't even think anyone let me pay for drinks that evening either.

3) I didn't have to share the decision-making with anyone. That was nice.

4) I remained unmarried at the end of it. This might be my favorite part. I did have three accompanists share the stage with me, but none of them popped the question.

5) I don't have any pictures. Can you believe that? I forgot my camera and we had to vacate the recital hall quickly afterwards (there was something else going on in there), so I had zero photo-ops. Doesn't that just beat all?

The recital was only an hour, but I have memories that will last forever. I'm glad I did it, and I think it went really well. I don't know what the future holds for me, but whether a wedding is ultimately part of the grand scheme of my life, I'm sure recitals will make appearances now and then. It was a magical day, a day where I looked like a sparkly princess, and I got to go home and be just me at the end of it. That felt perfectly right.

~Hero

The DecaAnnoying List

2009-03-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

I'm not really a complainer. Occasionally, I'm a venter. Here's a venting list of 10 annoying things.

1. Abnormal lightbulbs. I have to spend some of my Saturday making a special trip to Home Depot to buy fluorescent bulbs for my kitchen light. *shakes fist at ceiling*

2. Cockroach characters. I saw Monsters vs. Aliens in 3D last night (and it was amazing), but one of the main characters is Dr. Cockroach, a man-sized insect of the roachy variety. And Wall-E's sidekick was likewise such a thing (albeit normal sized). Now, they're well-drawn (no pun intended) characters, but do they really have to be the thing that's, like, top 3 on my "willies" list?

3. No decompression period. I foolishly made my office hours come right after class. I didn't give myself a break because I wanted to get out earlier. The problem is, I come right out of a three-hour class and then talk for another two hours because the steady stream of students doesn't care that I haven't had a chance to eat yet. I'd like even just fifteen minutes to sit quietly and chill out before I have to face the hordes. The thing is, I have the power to change this, but when I'm making up my schedule, the siren song of getting out at 2:30 is extremely compelling.

4. The lack of good food on campus. We've made strides here with the opening of Tully's Coffee, but all of the sammies they sell have mayonnaise on them. And if you know anything about me, you know I hate mayonnaise. It turns out Tully's is probably the best chain coffee place in terms of environmental impact and the way they treat their employees, but the mayonnaisiness of their sammies keeps me brown-bagging it. Although now I know the head guy over there so maybe I can change this one too.

5. Missing mailboxes. There used to be two mailboxes that I mailed the lion's share of my stuff in. The one a block away from my apartment, and the one at the opposite end of campus. In the last couple of months, BOTH mailboxes have been taken away. Don't know why, but now I actually have to carefully plan when and where I mail stuff.

6. The fat content of chocolate and peanut butter. Why are Reese's Peanut Butter cups so caloric-ly resplendent? And the Reese's Eggs? I can't go a whole Easter season without eating a few of those, but then I'll have to skip linner or something. *sigh*

7. Facebook status comments. Why can't I respond to each comment separately? Gah. I end up making stupidly general statements that address nothing.

8. Catching up. I put off some important stuff while I was preparing for the recital and now I have to dive into it and catch up. Always like swimming against the tide.

9. Looking fat when you're really not. I don't know what's up with the lens on the video camera that captured my recital, but I look wide as a truck, and I know that's not how it was in real life. Some people who will see it might think, "hmm...I think she gained some weight," and the thing is, the day of the recital, I weighed the least I have weighed in maybe 9 years.

10. Laundry. Do I have to explain this one? Didn't think so.

New DecaAwesome List

2009-03-16T19:05:00.000-07:00

This is my 50th blog! Can you believe that? In honor of the occasion, here it is, my darlings: the DecaAwesome List for the week of 3/16. The theme of this week's special blog is: technology.

1. The internets. When I first started using the internet in my grad school research methods class the year was 1995. There were no search engines as we know them today. You had to type in long strings of letters and numbers and backslashes and forward slashes to get to the uncolorful, uninteresting-looking pages that held information. The majority of musicological research was still done on paper, and internet sources were quite a bit different than they are today. Not only have the internets (yes, I call them this, or the "interwebs") changed life as we know it, but recent public sites like YouTube have revolutionized the way I write program notes and teach voice. Great performances are at my students' (and my) fingertips. I don't have to run out and buy the CD or even download it from iTunes. It's right there for me to see and hear whenever I want, 24/7. And I'm not even mentioning the miracle of other sites I use daily.

2. "Series of Tubes." In 2006, this is how former Senator Ted Stevens (Republican, Alaska) described the internet. Yes, my loves, the internet is a series of tubes. It's just about the funniest thing I've ever heard, like ever. I once tried to tell this story to people, but I was laughing so hard, it took me 15 minutes to even finish the phrase, "series of tubes." Now, when I can't stop laughing (which happens often), I call it, "A 'series of tubes' moment." Read more about it here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Series_of_tubes

3. iTunes. Some days I wake up singing a song like "Tarzan Boy" or "Break My Stride" and I'll think to myself, 'wouldn't it be nice to hear that song again today?' and there it is on iTunes. I can get it, if you'll pardon the expression, for a song, at 99 cents.

4. Blackberry. Texting, the interwebs, email, all at my fingertips. I've also discovered the true joy of something I never used to do: ignoring it sometimes.

5. Netflix. Movies of your choosing come to your mailbox. When you give one back (and you can keep it for as long as you like), you get another one. If that isn't fast enough, you can watch movies instantly on your computer. My roommate and I burn through Netflix like a warm knife through buttah. We watch movies, documentaries, entire seasons of TV series, and cartoons. It's brilliant.

6. Texting. I've mentioned this before. I have trouble committing to phone calls lately. I only have little snippets of time between stuff to talk and it's hard to have a phone call like that. But little snippets perfect for texting. Also, I have a full keyboard so that makes texting easy.

7. Facebook events. I invited people to my recital using Facebook events. I have RSVP'ed for many Facebook events. It's a great way to share upcoming happenings, and since most people Facebook every day, you get a lot of responses right away.

8. Online banking and bill pay. Instant knowledge about how much you have or owe. You can know what checks have cleared and which ones are outstanding. You can transfer money from one account to another while sitting at home drinking cocoa in your pajamas. You can pay bills without using stamps. You can make sure that payment isn't late by submitting it today online. What could be easier?

9. Google Docs. I can share documents with people if I want feedback. I can keep documents in progress on Google Docs so I can work on them from any computer with internet access. It's a great backup for stuff, and I great way to make sure I'm always working from the latest draft.

10. Blogging. Months ago, when I put my "Blog-A-Week" project into effect, I just thought it was good writing practice. It ended up being good therapy, and it's something I look forward to every week. I love making these lists especially, because it encourages me to find special things that happen every week and to appreciate them. I celebrate them...in blog form. It's also a great way to share what's going on with me. The busier I am, the more disconnected I can feel. But if you read my blog, at the very least you'll know what I've been eating.

Thanks for reading. There's more to come.

Bitter with the Sweet

2009-03-16T13:38:00.000-07:00

I've recently gotten some comments from people who think I've developed some bitterness in the last eight or so months. To those people I have two things to say: 1) "No I haven't!" and 2) "Well, if I have, I've earned it." My first reaction is to be righteously indignant, and to defend myself. No, I want to say, I'm just the same as I always was. My second reaction is different. Once I've had a chance to think about it, I realize that I have changed a bit, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I wouldn't be growing if I didn't change. And I suppose part of that change has resulted in me being a little more circumspect, a little more wary, and probably a little more bitter than I once was.

Here's the truth of it. There are things I just don't believe in anymore, and I don't know when or if I'll believe in them again. There are mistakes I've made that I'm not keen on making again, and if it takes a little bitterness to ensure that I don't fall into the same traps, then it's worth it. Perhaps I have lost some of the boundless patience people seem to expect from me. Perhaps I've lost a little bit of the spring in my step. I still think I'm one of the luckiest people in the world. I still believe in the essential goodness of humanity. I still think I've been blessed with more love in my short life than most people get in eighty good years. The sweet still outweighs the bitter, and I suspect that it always will.

So what if I have scars? I'd rather live fully and leave with scars and stories and laugh lines and, oh I don't know, maybe even a slight limp, than leave completely undamaged and bored as hell (see quote below). The best stories are the ones where everything goes wrong. I don't have a problem with making mistakes, or even having bad experiences. But I--and everyone else--must accept that they are going to change me, and they should, so long as they make me smarter and stronger and better.

Maybe I am more bitter than I was before, but if bitterness is a color (let's say a nice, rich burgundy), then a drop of it on my canvas won't obliterate my picture. No. That small amount is adding contrast and interest and depth. My painting is gaining something that comes with age (and in the case of art history, with Renaissance or rebirth): perspective.

~Hero

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, [beer] in one hand, [chocolate cake] in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, 'WOO HOO, What a Ride!'"
--author unknown [There are many variants as to what you should be holding in your hands. Fill in the blanks and personalize it!]

"You gotta take the bitter with the sweet."
--Carl, The Simpsons

DecaAwesome List for the week of 3/9

2009-03-11T08:36:00.000-07:00

1. Not taking a bath on taxes. I worked a lot of freelance last year so I was really scared about what I was going to owe. Luckily, I found a good accountant, kept good records, and bought some deductible stuff like a new computer, so I ended up paying an absolutely reasonable amount. How many people say that?

2. Patton Oswalt. Watched his Werewolves and Lollipops special last night. Two words, people: gray drapes. I almost had to stop the DVD because I couldn't stop laughing.

3. Girl Scout Cookies. Yo, it's about that time. Time for Thin Mints and Tagalongs, Do Si Dos and Trefoils. Bought four boxes at my accountant's office (the guy was selling for his daughter's troop). Left with money in my pocket and some Tagalongs!!

4. Sight reading. The process by which people can play or sing a song the first time they look at the music. Since starting college a hundred and six years ago, my sight reading skills have improved dramatically, and they keep improving. I don't take this skill for granted, because I have worked hard on it all of my adult life. It sure does come in handy at choir rehearsals and on mass days where I show up an hour late. (Yes, I'm one of those people who forgot to change my clocks.)

5. Birthdays. There are a lot of them coming up. Lots to celebrate. We had cake and pizza for one of the faculty today and there's more where that came from. March is a birthday-riffic month.

6. Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I love this actor for a lot of things he's done. Most especially, he is Papa Winchester on Supernatural, but he was also the cutest thing ever in P.S. I Love You, where he played a hot Irish dude (and you get to see his butt!). But anyway, I started watching Weeds on DVD last night and he plays a dead guy in that show too! That makes three shows where JDM plays a dead guy in flashbacks, memories, or dreams: Grey's Anatomy (he started out alive, but then died), Supernatural (he started out missing, but alive, and then later died), and Weeds (the show is about his widow). Yay for JDM who just rocks the posthumous guest-starring gig! Also, he's hotter than the sun. Have I mentioned that? Also, I haven't seen Watchmen yet, but I think the death of his character starts the events of the film in motion. So, yeah, JDM and death, perfect together.

7. Stations of the Cross. Last night, there was a service at my church where we went through and meditated on each station of the cross (the steps Jesus took to his crucifixion). As far as I'm concerned, the Stations of the Cross service is the most moving service of the entire church year. I always feel really affected by it, and last night was no exception.

8. Making a difference. It's funny, sometimes the worst thing about your day can turn around and be the best thing a day later. I had some drama with someone earlier in the week, but I think we have both grown considerably because of it. I was so upset about it a couple of days ago, but I'm so glad that it happened now. I think we're both better off.

9. Time Magazine. I got this magazine for years when I was a student (big discount off the regular price), and I used to read it all the time. Well, I bought it in the supermarket last night and I'm enjoying it. It's a bit more...eh, how do I put this...it's a bit less than what it used to be, but I bet it appeals to more people now. Still, I'm enjoying it. Now that I don't have to worry about someone else's reaction to the news, I'm actually having fun learning about what's going on in the world.

10. John Adams. The composer. I got tickets to hear him speak at the Public Library in May. I am so excited. He's a great speaker and an interesting guy. I think there's going to be a book signing afterwards, so I will be sure to crack open his autobiography by then.

The Way We Look to a Song

2009-03-06T12:46:00.001-08:00

In the song "Yellow," there's a lyric that goes, "I came along/ I wrote a song for you, and all the things you do." Well, I have always wanted someone to write a song for me (or, you know, the things I do). I mean, I'm an artist myself so I create stuff, but the idea of being a muse in some way to another artist is pretty cool. I've known many musicians in my life, a decent handful of them are songwriters or composers, and I thought for sure someone would have penned a tune for me by now. But no. Zip. Zero. Nada. I sing in a folk duo and the guy who writes all the songs is constantly writing songs about, like, everyone, but I haven't gotten the treatment yet. Years ago, a friend told me he wrote me a song for my birthday, but I never got to hear it so I don't think that counts.

But two weeks ago, it finally happened.

My roommate, T is a composer, and he's been writing a lot recently. He wrote this amazing rock song that I absolutely adored. There was something about it that touched me, from the first time I heard it. It just seemed to capture some of the things I had been feeling about my life, even without words. Well, one night, he was struggling to think of lyrics, and I was trying to help by giving suggestions (i.e. the futility of life; people who are jerks). Then I went to bed. A couple of hours later--I was asleep, mind you--there was a knock on my door. T wanted me to come out and hear what he had ended up writing, so I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and followed him.

The song--the one that I had loved as I heard it taking shape--now had lyrics. And those lyrics were about me and my life. T wrote it almost like I was singing it, from my point of view. It's a snarky, angry song, and all I can say is that it's freaking brilliant. (I'm not going to reveal the words are here, because I don't want to scoop T. You'll have to wait for the album.)

After he sang it for me, I just turned to him and said, "I'm still asleep, right? Because this is a dream come true!" I didn't even mind losing sleep over it because when I woke up the next morning, I realized that I could cross something off my life list. The experiences of my life acted as inspiration for a fellow artist. My official "muse" card is coming in the mail soon! W00t!

Now, I realize it's not the same as having someone start out from scratch with the sole goal of writing a song for me, but it's close enough and I will take it. This might be the only song that's ever written for me...and, you know, the things I do, so I'm going to make the most of it.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List for weeks 2/22-3/2

2009-03-02T08:32:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to do this list for days, but it was an extremely busy weekend and I just didn't have the time. So here we go! Also, I should note that there will be no food on this list just because my Mom thinks I'm getting too much sugar. So, even though I'm eating something delicious right now, I won't tell you what it is.

1. Sideways. The movie, not the direction. I just saw a paper at a film music conference about this movie and it reminded me of how much I enjoyed seeing it. I used to own Sideways on DVD, but if I'm not mistaken, I lost it in the "divorce." But here's the good news: I bought it as a Christmas present for a colleague, but he had just purchased it himself, so I still have a DVD here at work, and it's still half-wrapped in Christmas paper. Early Christmas for me!

2. Spring Break. It's not here yet, but I'm really looking forward to it. I might even have a visitor!

3. Old Sport. This nickname refers to a person I knew in high school and recently reconnected with. I don't remember who started calling him "Old Sport," but I do know two things: 1) the nickname stuck right away, and 2) the name comes from the Great Gatsby. I haven't seen O.S. in about 17 years, but since we've been Facebooking and texting, it's like no time has passed. He's a good man who has his head on straight. It's actually quite refreshing to talk to someone like that. Also, he's cute!

4. Lilies of the Valley. My favorite flower, and the flower of my birth month. I have been toying with the idea of trying to grow my own since they are hard to come by. Such a pretty flower. They were all over a design photo spread in this month's Family Circle (many thanks to Nanny for my subscription!).

5. Target. Where else can you buy Lucky Charms, Drano, Monopoly, a candle, and a shirt all in one place? I bought a couple of new sweaters there last week for $15, along with cereal and Windex. It's truly one-stop shopping. But you must say "Tarjay" and make sure that "j" sounds French.

6. Hikes without Mics. This is a hiking and music event put on my some friends of mine under an umbrella organization they created called The Natural Stage Project. A bunch of folks hike to a location and once there, they eat, play music, and enjoy nature. My folk group was the featured guest on the bill at yesterday's Hikes without Mics in Griffith Park. The weather was perfect, the "stage" was rocky, but lovely, and the food and company were great. It was a beautiful day all around. I can't wait until the next one!

7. Drinking songs. I went to see my friend play at the Pig N' Whistle on Friday night and he played a drinking song he wrote. It was right at the beginning of the set, so it made the whole crowd drink together and bond. I think the crowd was definitely in the right state of mind after that.

8. Clicking. You know when you meet someone that they're "your kind of person?" At the same show Friday night I met a guy named Tom Riddle (yes, that's his real honest-to-god name) and within about two minutes of sitting at the same table watching our mutual friend play, it was clear that we were definitely on the same page. He made a Salacious Crumb joke and it was on. I don't have romantic interest in him (and even if I did, I'm still in my "year off"), but I think he'd make a really cool friend.

9. Conferences. I went to the first musicology conference I have been to in about three years, I think. Some of it is inevitably boring, but there's always something fun and interesting that just inspires, or makes me want to go learn about new things. It makes me miss musicology too, somewhat, but when I see students at those conferences who are ABD (all but dissertation) who are looking for work, I am grateful to have a job at all.

10. Ear plugs. A must-have for anyone who values their ears. I got a little carrying case for ear plugs when I attended the drag races with my cousin (her husband's company is a sponsor). The case says Castrol on it. I use them when I'm at a concert or even when the PA system somewhere is too loud. They're also a godsend when my roommate is working on his music and I'm trying to sleep. It's not often that noise keeps me awake, but when he's recording the screaming vocals to some rock songs, I pop in my ear plugs and I'm asleep in no time.

Index card box with flowers

2009-02-23T18:37:00.000-08:00

When I was in first grade, one of the activities we had in school was a reading group. For this group, we were required to have, among other things, an index card box. Into this box, we placed index cards with new vocabulary words. My Mom bought me a metal box which was decorated with pastel blue flowers. It had a yellow trim on the lid of the box and the leaves of the flowers were a light pastel green. But, Hero, you're probably saying, that was almost thirty years ago! How can you remember that box so well?

Well, because I'm not remembering it. I'm describing it because it's sitting right here on my desk at work. Yes, almost three decades later and three thousand miles away from where I first used it, this index card box is one of a few relics from my childhood. A lot of the stuff I grew up with is gone or still in my parents' house (sorry about that, Mom and Dad). A lot of the games I shared with my sister are with her (she's been in one place longer than I have). And when I moved out of NY nine years ago, I didn't take everything with me. So I have a few special things, including this index card box, and when I look at it, as I'm doing today, it makes me think of how much has changed over the years. I also think of what hasn't changed.

I'm still in school, for one. I'm a teacher and not a student, but learning is still my business every day. I'm taller. I don't wear a uniform every day (although some days I wish I did). I'm not afraid of Sister Anne anymore. I still hope that I am good enough. I still work hard. I still suck at sports. I handle stress better. I am more confident in my abilities. I'm a better friend. I'm more accepting of people. My handwriting is much, much worse. I still can't draw. I still play piano (slightly better now). I still like to color with crayons. I still fall asleep on the couch wrapped up in a blanket. I still don't like milk. I still love music and singing, but my voice is much stronger now. I'm clumsier now because my feet got big. My hair is darker, thanks to Loreal. I'm still something of a morning person. I still like scrambled eggs and cookies, but not at the same time. I don't like soda anymore. Ernie and Animal are still my favorite muppets. I watch less television now, but more movies. I like cantaloupe. I eat the stems of broccoli now (I never would as a kid). I stopped believing in some important things, but I still believe in magic and wishes and possibilities. I still have dreams, and some are even the same.

My vocabulary is bigger (the box helped with that, I guess), my world is bigger, my life is bigger now. But at the center of everything, I'm still the little girl who probably had to carry this little box to first grade in her two tiny hands. There's something beautiful about that.

DecaAwesome List for the week of 2/16

2009-02-20T21:48:00.000-08:00

1. Cadbury Creme eggs. Holy smokes, these things are good. They have always been a favorite for me. Some people think they're too sweet or some other nonsense, but they are truly deliciousness.

2. The movie Waiting. I just got it on Netflix at the recommendation of T, and it was seriously the funniest thing. That last scene at the party is priceless. I knew that the "game" was going to be a vital part of the ending. Anyone who knows narrative structure knows that. But here's the thing: I didn't see what happened coming, and I was freaking delighted by that.

3. Hiking. It's not usually the tippy top of my list of fun activities. Y'all know I'd rather sit and read a book or something nerdy like that. But T was dying to get out of the city for a hike, so we drove up to Santa Barbara and did a gorgeous hike that had wicked caves and my very first Geocache.

4. Geocaching. Geocaching is a pastime wherein people leave stuff in locations and then post the stuff's location on the interwebs. Other Geocachers use their GPS devices to go find the "treasure." You write something on the requisite notebook inside, leave something (I left a hackey-sack) and maybe take something (I took a "Think Green" button). Then when you get home from your adventure, you can go online and talk about what you left or took. It's like fandom, only instead of Harry Potter, you get ammunition boxes full of band-aids and gum and a nearly empty fifth of Vodka. I don't see myself becoming a Geocacher, but it was fun to find an unexpected treasure in a cave.

5. Half.com. You can really find stuff for half price or less on this thing. To paraphrase the jingle, I'm never never never paying full price again. Oh wait, that's Marshall's. Still.

6. Alanna Ubach. I first encountered her as Beakman's assistant on Beakman's World (a funny science-type show in the Mr. Wizard vein...but much cooler). She's beautiful, but she always plays these hilarious character roles. She was Marsha Brady's lesbian admirer in the Brady Bunch Movie. She was one of Elle Woods' sorority sisters in Legally Blonde. She was the Latino lady who ushered Ben Stiller into manhood in a flashback sequence in Meet the Fockers. Tonight, she was hilarious in Waiting. I just found out she doesn't have a Wikipedia page. Someone has to do something about this. Maybe I need to step in. You are under-appreciated by most people, Alanna, but not by me. Not by me.

7. Mrs. Butterworth's syrup. I grew up with Aunt Jemima, and she was great, but Mrs. Butterworth's syrup is thicker and just absolutely yummy. T introduced me to Mrs. B months ago, and that meant saying goodbye to Aunt J., but I did, and I've never looked back.

8. The Harlem Globetrotters. I took Cael to see HGs on Sunday. We got some $16 seats (which were remarkably excellent), bought a program and some cotton candy and we were set. The HGs put on a funny show. Cael and I even got photographed for the HG fansite.

9. Avocados. They're already delicious, but then they make Guacamole out of it. I never ate these before, but I eat 'em now and they rock.

10. Magazines. I bought a couple this week as a guilty pleasure. I just finished two big jobs for two orchestras, so I thought I deserved a treat. The magazine I'm enjoying most? A little publication called Storage. Yes, it's a magazine put out by Better Homes and Gardens dedicated to closet systems, rubbermaid containers, cubbies, nooks, and baskets. Apparently when I can't handle informative non-fiction or complex narrative, I can handle pretty pictures featuring cubbies and nooks.

DecaAwesome List for the week of 2/9

2009-02-14T14:10:00.000-08:00

1. Doughnuts. I'm not a huge fan of doughnuts. In fact, when there's a box with free doughnuts sitting in the office at work, I'd say 90% of the time, I just walk right on by. But I've been watching a lot of Dexter, and they are always eating doughnuts on that show. So I had a craving. I fulfilled the craving with a strawberry-frosted sprinkle-licious doughnut from 7-11. It was great. I suspect that I'd get doughnut cravings more often were there Dunkin' Doughnuts in my local area. There aren't, so I weigh less. Which I suppose is a good thing. Because the DD Coffee Roll? Yeah, hard to say no to.

2. Morgan Freeman. Earlier this week, I saw a little indie film with him called 10 Items or Less. He played a character that was basically himself, and he was brilliant and funny and self-deprecating. His co-star, Paz Vega, was also great. It turned out to be a very touching film. That guy can do anything. From being Easy Reader to giving voice to the Penguins to acting the hell out of any part he's given, he's a national treasure.

3. A clean room. I was so thrilled to have finished, like, 90% of my room cleaning before the first day of school. There's nothing like starting over with a clean slate. I'm really happy with the way things worked out with moving stuff around and throwing stuff away.

4. iTunes. I love having my music collection on iTunes. I make playlists all the time. I can burn 'em to disc and listen to them in the car. I can share them with people. This week, I used iTunes to burn recital songs for my accompanist. Now he knows all the tempos I want.

5. Reading in the bathtub. New favorite thing. I never got it when people did this on Tv and in the movies, but now I see how relaxing it can be. And if the book gets wet, so what. The crinkley paper will just remind me of feeling really relaxed and enjoying my favorite pastime of reading.

6. Nick Hornby's Slam. I didn't get this novel when it first came out because I was waiting for the paperback, but Dan lent it to me over winter break and I just finished it. First of all, I love NH. I think he's amazing. The kind of writer I would like to be. Second, Slam was his stab at a young adult novel, and I think he did brilliantly with it. I enjoyed it a lot.

7. Home hair coloring. My hair is black now and it cost me $9.00. I did it all by myself, although my roommate helped me get all the spots I missed. My hair looks awesome, if I do say so myself.

8. Waking up and not feeling tired even though you really should be. My friend Tina stayed over Wednesday night, and she didn't get in until late, but I had to wake up at the crack of dawn to do something at school. I didn't get much rest, but when the alarm went off in the morning, I was ok. Nothing is worse than dragging yourself out of bed when you can barely move, so I was pleased that I just got up, no problem.

9. Pencils that use .7 lead. I know this is geeky as hell, but I have a bunch of pencils that use .5 lead and they just require more effort. The .7 lead is thicker and makes broader strokes, but you still have the accuracy of a mechanical pencil.

10. The Wrestler. Mickey Rourke was amazing in this heart-breaking film. He was so completely the character, it's like it was a documentary rather than a narrative film. I'm just like...guh...it was good. Good on you, Mickey.

Bonus: Entenmann's Valentine's Day Cupcakes. I just got a box from my folks for V-Day (and a beautiful card came with it), and those cupcakes are so fresh and sweet and delicious. I'm going to eat one right now. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

In the Moment

2009-02-10T12:38:00.001-08:00

It's hard to live in the moment. It's hard to stay focused on the thing you're doing, and not have your mind wander to something else. It's especially difficult to live in the moment when you have done something a million times. How many people focus on the laundry while they're doing it? How many people register the wetness of the clothes when they're moving them from washer to dryer? How many people appreciate the soft warmth of the clothes when they come out of the dryer? How many people take the time to fold a shirt and stand back to look at the neat little shirt package they have created?

I have been cantoring at church for a few years now. I'm one of the more relaxed cantors because I have a lot of musical experience, and I can usually handle a curve ball here and there, no problem. In fact, if truth be told, sometimes my mind wanders a little while I'm working, especially when the songs are familiar. I kinda just snap to attention when the intro to the song starts, and when it's all over, I can lapse back into my thoughts. I'm not saying I do this all the time, I'm just saying that it happens now and then. I don't always stay in the moment.

The cantors have a rotation going where each cantor sings Saturday evening mass once every seven weeks or so. Last week was my week. I try to get there about a half hour before mass so I can go over the songs with the organist (he plays only on Saturday nights), but I did not have that luxury last Saturday. I got caught in traffic on the way there and made it to church with about 5 minutes to spare before mass. There were a number of songs I had never seen before, and some musical tidbits I knew I was going to have to figure out on the fly. It was a little nerve-wracking, but the payoff was this: I was "in the moment" the whole time. When I sang each song, I was concentrating on each and every note, every phrase, every word. And more than that, I was aware of how I was leading the congregation. I made more of a connection with them because I was leaning on them for help and encouragement, and they came through brilliantly.

I doubt if anyone noticed anything was different. I doubt if anyone noticed I was working harder than usual, or that I was more focused. I'm sure the end result was similar to the end result the congregation gets every week, from all the cantors. But being "in the moment" isn't about the end result. In fact, it's got absolutely nothing to do with that. It's about the experience of the process--while it's happening. It's being able to stand in line at the supermarket and just stand in line. It's the ability to take an every day event and make it the focal point of your life, even for ten minutes. It's the ability to enrich every experience with your full participation. So I'm making a conscious effort to do that more often, and not just when traffic (or anything else) forces me to.

Living in the moment is also about not dwelling on the past, but that's a lesson for another day...

~Hero

DecaAwesome List for the week of 2/2

2009-02-03T23:52:00.001-08:00

Here's a list of then things that rock this week.

1. Wogging. It's my term for walk-jogging. Since I'm still out of shape it's what I do on my morning run. I jog until my heart explodes and then I walk for a while. When I'm out of the near-death zone, I jog again. I do this for thirty minutes just about every morning.

2. Tiger Beer. It's from Singapore and it's delicious. Some friends found a place in L.A. that sells it, and brought some over for the Superbowl. I had heard of Tiger before I went to Singapore because it was a beer that novelist Anthony Burgess (A Clockwork Orange) drank when he lived in Malaysia. One of his first novels is actually called Time for a Tiger. I bought my very first Tiger off of a food cart in Singapore. The beer was as ice cold as the day was steaming hot. I drank it while I walked down the street. You can do that in Singapore. It's brilliant.

3. Puffs Plus tissues. These lotion-y tissues are a godsend when you're sick. My roommate has a cold right now and I'm coming down with it too, so I'm heading to the store tomorrow to replenish my supply.

4. Crystal Light. Now that I'm on this "live-it" (as opposed to "diet," thanks, Jon!) I can't drink as much of my beloved lemonade. So I've been drinking Crystal Light and it's really not that bad. I used to only drink it when hiking, but it's nice as a drink to break up the monotony of water, water, water.

5. Strawberry Nutri-Grain bars. A delicious breakfast on the run. I love strawberries. I even love strawberry-flavored things. Other berry-flavored things, not so much.

6. the L.L. Bean Boat and Tote. K and C got me one for Christmas (it's got "Gryffindor" stitched onto it and it's house colors!!!) and it is a freaking awesome bag. Been using it as my schoolbag for wintercession. I can tell I'm going to be using this thing forevs. Thanks, guys!

7. Facebook. What can I say? The status bar, the pictures (I get excited when I see that someone's tagged me in a photo!), my Wall. I enjoy it very much. I'm not on it every day, but I love checking in and seeing what folks are doing. I also like coming up with interesting things to put on my status bar. Status bar statements have to be true, but I like them to be interesting as well.

8. Good Superbowl games. This one was actually an interesting game to watch. Not like other Superbowls that were blowouts or boring. There were challenged calls, stunning reversals of fortune, and a dude running 100 yards for a TD. A dude whose heart almost exploded. You could tell.

9. Clementines. Just bought a new box and I am enjoying them so much. So fresh. So juicy.

10. Caffeine. I don't drink coffee or soda or anything with caffeine, but when I'm really dragging, I take a caffeine pill. It's a pretty rare thing; I do it maybe once a month under normal circumstances. The weird thing is that I don't get the obvious feeling of being more awake. No, I gradually start feeling like everything is going to be just fine. I'm going to get everything done on time and under budget. It makes me want to make more lists and get organized. The caffeine provides a truly pleasant sensation, but I won't overuse it because I don't want it to lose its effectiveness.

DecaAwesome List

2009-01-26T22:41:00.000-08:00

Here are 10 awesome things for the week of 1/26/09

1. My Dad. It was his birthday last week. He is a truly super guy. Good and decent. Kind and generous. He is a hard-working man, and I got my work ethic and sense of mental organization from him. I get crap done because I spent my whole life watching him get crap done. For years, I didn't think I was like him at all--I definitely share more obvious traits with my Mom--but the older I get, the more of him I see in me. Even though I am more of a loose cannon than he is, there is a core of something within me that is just pure Dad. And maybe it's ineffable stuff, but it's some of the best stuff about me.

2. King's Hawaiian Sweet Rolls. Squishy and delicious. See, it's bread, but it's also a little bit sweet. It's awesome.

3. Coincidences. My sister and I--for probably the fifth time--purchased the same greeting card for an occasion. This time, we bought the same card for Dad's birthday. Please keep in mind that we shop in different stores and that we live 3,000 miles apart. Yes, it's happened already. A bunch of times. Isn't that insane? I love it.

4. Combining cereal. For a low-calorie snack that satisfies my sweet tooth, I've been mixing half a bowl of Special K (red berries) with half a bowl of Lucky Charms. It sounds crazy, but I think it's deliciousness.

5. Thesaurus.com. Brought to you by the same people who made Dictionary.com, this website is invaluable when I'm writing blurbs. Writing promotional blurbs for a symphony orchestra's season is impossible without adjectives. Lots of adjectives. Thesaurus.com is the quickest way to find yet another synonym for "masterpiece."

6. My recital. I have just about cemented the program and I am thrilled. It's going to be a great show. Well, I'm going to have fun, at least.

7. The Stand-Up Countdown on Comedy Central. I discovered a couple of really hilarious comics watching this thing. My roommate and I recorded it on the DVR because we didn't want to sit there all day long and watch it. So, we watched it later in the night and when they got down to #1, I was pissed because I didn't know who the guy was, but then he was so funny that I couldn't stop laughing. Instead of fast-forwarding the commercials, we let them play so I'd have time to catch my breath in between bits. The comic's name is Kyle Cease, I think, and he was frickin' high-larious. Seriously, you guys. He's funny.

8. Finally finding a tax guy. My new accountant is a former musician so he knows all about what musicians and artists can claim as deductions. Also, he was the original drummer of the Circle Jerks, so that's pretty cool. I used to wear a Circle Jerks pin on one of my plaid kilts in high school. I thought it complemented that particular plaid rather well. Also, the pin helped keep the skirt from flying open. Also, it had a nun on it so I liked wearing it to Catholic school. I still have this pin; it lives on an army surplus bag I use as a purse sometimes.

9. Poetry. I haven't been much use writing stories or novels recently. It's a little discouraging, but I hope someday I'll be able to do that again. In the meanwhile, I've been writing poetry. Some of it is awful, but I don't really care. It's what I feel I can do right now, so I'm going to do it.

10. Beanie caps. I love these close-fitting wool caps. I have a few of them, but lately, I've just been wearing a plain black one. Keeps my head warm and I look cute. Who could ask for anything more?

Letting Go

2009-01-24T01:07:00.001-08:00

We think that holding on is the hardest thing ever. We think that being able to cling to something--without fail--is the biggest challenge the world can set before us. But we're wrong. The hardest thing, the very hardest thing, is letting go.

At twelve bags of garbage and counting, I have been letting go of a lot of things lately. I've thrown away old ticket stubs, notes and gifts from my middle school students (I did keep an awful ceramic bank that's a violin-playing elephant because it's delightfully hideous), printouts of funny internet forwards (I'm pretty sure the internet will hold onto them for me if I want to see them again), and various and sundry other things.

When faced with a choice of throwing something or keeping something, I asked myself, "Do I want to keep this forever?" Because that's really it, isn't it? Do I want to lug this book/greeting card/scrap of paper/business card with me from apartment to apartment for the rest of my life? So: either I throw it away now or I throw it away later, but I can't take it with me.

I wasn't going out with Ed long when his grandma died, but I was there to help clean things out, and believe me, I was profoundly affected by what I saw. The woman had drawers full of wallets, closets full of old clothes, a tub full of shoes. And not a Rubbermaid tub from Target. No, I mean a tub--like the claw-footed one you bathe in--and it was full of shoes the woman probably never wore. I kept thinking of her while I was emptying out bins and pulling down stuff from the top of the closet. I would look at something and say, do I want my loved ones to have to figure out what to do with this after I'm dead? I'm not planning on dying any time soon, but I will die someday so I don't think it's such a morbid question to ask.

There are things I want to keep, of course. For example, I have a tub (a small Rubbermaid one from Target) full of Harry Potter memorabilia. Articles, programs from the four HP conventions I attended, licensed merchandise. I'm keeping this because I might have a child someday (or I'll just be everyone's favorite spinster aunt) who will read the books and love them and who will want to know what it was like when J.K. was still writing them. And the kids will be like, "Tell us about the midnight book parties, Auntie Hero!" And I'll be able to show them.

It's time to get rid of other kinds of stuff too. Old ideas, expectations, unmaterialized possibilities. Do I really want to carry that stuff around with me forever? Of course not. I want to have room in my brain for the new stuff. I certainly won't forget, but I need to let some stuff go. It's just the healthy thing to do.

It's time to throw away old dreams and nurture new ones. It's time to have more room in my closets and shelves, and more room in my life for the things that I want. It's time to start fresh with a clean slate and a clean room. If I hung on to everything, I'd spend all my energy just hanging on. I wouldn't accomplish anything, wouldn't get anywhere. But if I let go, I'll have all the more energy for my growing new life.

Goodbye, twelve bags of old life crap. So long, old ideas. Farewell to all of the things that have weighed me down.

Memories are feather-light, and I feel like flying.

~Hero

The DecaAwesome List

2009-01-15T17:20:00.000-08:00

For the week of 1/11 to 11/17

For those of you just joining me, this is a top-ten list of things that have made my week. In no particular order (although the first one is particularly awesome)...

1. My sister. It was her birthday yesterday. There is no one on this earth who could ever be what she is to me. She is part of my heart and soul. She knows me in ways no one else does. She's seen me through everything. She taught me how to read when I was a very teeny little Hero. We're very different, yet we think the same. We'll make the same joke at the same time in response to something. And this still happens, even though I haven't lived in the same state as her for nine years. We don't talk as often as we should, but she's always there with me. She's the voice in my head, Bud Abbott to my Lou Costello, she's Han Freakin' Solo, a force to be reckoned with, a ridiculously talented artist, and the one person I'm sure I want to grow old with.

2. Burt's Bees tinted lip balm. When you just don't feel like dealing with lipstick, but you have to put something on your chapped lips, this is the perfect solution. A hint of color, moisture for the lips, a tiny little tube to stash in your pocket. I use the shade called Papaya. Oh, Burt, you are the man.

3. Gettin' organized. At last count, I have thrown away nine bags of crap, made up three Goodwill bags of clothes (plus two stacks of books), and shredded a ton of stuff (the shredder actually began to smoke at one point. I think it was trying to tell me to take a break.). I can see the top of my desk for the first time in months.

4. Gettin' in shape. I have gone running (well, for me it's more like a combination of jogging and walking) just about every day for the last two weeks. I'm not seeing any big changes yet, but it's not about that. It's about not being a blob any more. And thanks to all of the folks who say they haven't noticed that I've turned into a blob. I hope to continue fooling you until I am at my fighting weight again.

5. Having a workout buddy. My roommate comes running with me sometimes, and when he doesn't, he encourages me to go. When I come back, red and sweaty, he tells me I should be proud of myself. I need that kind of acknowledgment and encouragement, you know? Also, Cat and I are going to try to make a workout date for every week. This way we can catch up with each other and get back into shape.

6. My job. Yes, I complain sometimes. Yes, sometimes I don't want to go. But man, I have to admit it is a pretty damn sweet gig. It's tough, but so rewarding, and I have slightly more job security than a lot of people I know. Also, I've made some really good friends not just with my colleagues, but with some of my former students.

7. Christian Bale. I've seen three of his movies this week: The Dark Knight, American Psycho, and Equilibrium. He is such a rockstar in all of them. I don't particularly find him all that hot. But one has to be attracted to the slick smoothness and utter grace of his movements, especially when he's fighting.

8. Chinese food. One of my favorites. I'm meeting a friend for dinner at this place in Los Feliz and their Lo Mein was to die for. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

9. Venice Beach. My roommate got a biography of Jim Morrison for x-mas, and we've both been reading it. It's inspired us to go to some of the places where the Doors played or hung out, and we discovered that--you'll never believe it--it's still 1967 at Venice Beach. The nightly drum circle is like a freakin' time warp. Next time I go, I'm bringing an instrument to play. Then I'm gonna write some environmentally conscious poetry and maybe hitchhike cross-country like a Dharma Bum. Or, you know, not.

10. The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest. On the last page of every issue of the New Yorker, they have a cartoon with no caption. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to come up with a clever caption for the drawing. Usually, I am clueless as to what would even make sense for the cartoons, but every week they find three finalists for the previous week's cartoon. And at least one of them is laugh-out-loud funny. My recent favorite (didn't end up winning, btw) showed two business men at work. one of them sporting a cooked turkey under his arm. The caption read something like, "I am useless without my morning turkey." And I don't know why, but I've been laughing out loud at that for weeks.

The Mad Listmaker Strikes Again!!

2009-01-11T17:01:00.001-08:00

Next entry in the Blog-A-Week Series

This is a prompt from Facebook, and I'm doing it here since I just started importing this blog over there. My readership should double...to, like, ten. I feel like John Grisham.

Here goes, folks. 16 Random Tidbits about me:

1. I broke my collar bone when I was in 5th grade. I was playing football in a co-ed gym class (that little experiment lasted a year) and another player--who went on to play varsity football in high school--blocked me. I fell on my side, and my collar bone steepled. Hurt like a mo'. It's still sensitive, if you can believe that.

2. I love crossword puzzles. I do them as often as I can. I absolutely adore words, and I think that learning an editor's style is like learning a new language. It's nerd fun at its best.

3. In general, fear does not stop me from doing things. I won't say I'm fearless because that's incorrect. If I'm afraid of something, I tend to think I'm on the right track, and--scared or not--I do it anyway. I'm never regretful later.

4. I'm not a very political person. You know how people say, "If you're not angry, you're just not paying attention?" They're talking about me. I don't know why I can't get into politics, but I just can't. Part of it is probably that my last significant other was heavily political and conservative, and that just isn't me.

5. I'm a voice teacher and I get laryngitis more than anyone else I know. The piano teacher never gets it. The theory teacher never gets it. But the voice teacher? Bingo. Just lucky, I guess.

6. I am a huge fan of TV on DVD. There are no commercials, and you can watch a whole season in a couple of weeks. Just finished watching the first seasons of both Dexter and Six Feet Under, and I can't wait to start season 2 of Dexter, SFU, and Psych.

7. One of my favorite ways to fall asleep is with my head in a book.

8. I enjoy watching Tv shows and movies (and reading books) that feature characters who are completely screwed up. I can't figure out if it's because I identify with them, or if they make me feel better about myself. Meh, a little from column A, a little from column B.

9. Despite being a Gemini, I make tons of lists. I owe whatever success I've achieved to lists. I'm serious, it's how I get so much done.

10. I am controlled chaos. Sometimes, I am *barely* controlled chaos.

11. I have just spent the last few days getting rid of a lot of crap I've been hanging on to for no reason. As of tonight, I've thrown away seven giant bags of garbage, and I have a ton of stuff to shred. I also have clothes and books ready to go to Goodwill. I'm trying to simplify.

12. I have an awesome therapist who is helping me get rid of seven bags of emotional garbage. (Nice transition, right?) She is seriously one of the coolest people I know.

13. One of my all-time favorite movies with music is The Commitments. Who knew the Irish had so much soul!

14. I was in a band in high school called Absolut Certainty. We had a lot of fun. At least I did. Hell, the practices were at least as much fun as the times we played out.

15. I can't tell you about #15, because it involves tequila. :-)

16. I hope someday to do voiceovers. I want to be the voice of a cool cartoon character.

Woo! Done!

The Year in Review

2009-01-03T21:10:00.001-08:00

Next installment in the Blog-A-Week Series

It is January third. This is my first blog of the new year and I thought it appropriate to mention some of the milestones of 2008. It was a very important year in many respects, and I'm interested in some perspective.

I know there's important stuff I'm going to forget about (and perhaps write about later), so consider this a work in progress.

I started out the year with a National Association of the Teachers of Singing conference at the Millennium Biltmore. I taught the wintercession at LACC. At the end of January, I got to visit with an old friend when M came to LA from Boston for work. We had a great time. In March I attended a fan convention for the TV show Supernatural. I met some lovely people, saw some really fun stuff (I even asked Jensen Ackles a question!), and got my picture taken with the boys from the show. I also got definitive proof that Jared and Jensen like Shiner Bock, my new favorite American beer. Bonus: running into an old high school friend at the con; he's the head photographer for the convention organization.

When I got home from the con--that very same night--I got an email from someone at the Aspen Music School. They were asking if I was interested in the position of Program Book Editor. I said yes and thus began one of the craziest periods in my life. By the third week of April, I was on my way to Aspen, CO for the wall meeting. The folks at Aspen were extremely hospitable, putting me up in a nice hotel, and renting me a car. It snowed when I got there and was generally beautiful in every way. The job, however, was a bear. By the time May rolled around, I was already pulling all-nighters to stay on top. One of the hardest jobs I've ever done. Maybe the hardest. It's also one of the things I'm most proud of.

All the while, we were apartment-hunting. The old place had changed owners and City Heights was going to hell in a handbasket. We ended up choosing this place in Highland Park. I fought for it because it was reasonably priced, had hardwood floors, and had its own washer/dryer in the apartment. I love this place, I really do. Moving in was a two-week ordeal. I was working like a dog for Aspen most of the time, not to mention it was the end-of-semester hoo-hah at school. On the very last day of May, we ended up packing by candlelight until dawn (the power was already shut off). My birthday was kind of a bust, what with the work and moving. I turned 34. Something else from May: the church choir put on a concert featuring the music of ABBA, Gershwin, and selections from Wicked. Even though I was completely unprepared for the show, it was a great time.

The summer continued with me working for Aspen, teaching a summer class at LACC, and writing program notes for LACO and the SPCO. I barely slept. It was nuts. As part of my LACC duties, I took on three independent study students who came for private lessons during the summer. I also began working with T, writing down his compositions. I visited Aspen again in May, and this time I had company. I worked in the office while I was there, and it was great fun. I like Aspen a lot. It's different from a lot of other places I've been. In addition to all of this madness, I was preparing for the Singapore tour with the church. I had a lot of rehearsals and it made home life a little tense. So did all of my jobs.

At the end of July, we went home for a visit. That's where and when the break-up happened. I returned to Los Angeles early and stayed with friends to give J time to find another place to live. My folks came to help out for a few days after that. Two weeks later, I was in Singapore. The whole trip was a beautiful experience: singing, sharing the culture, getting to know the staff and the boys of Boystown (for whom we did our benefit concerts), and eating, eating, eating. It was a good time for me to get away, and I couldn't have gone much further from L.A. without getting closer to it. In other words, it was about as far away as I could've gotten, and that was just fine by me. When I returned, I eventually moved back into my apartment.

School started up again and work became the rock of my life. I didn't feel very social, but I tried to get out now and then. I started therapy. I decided I despised living alone and got a roommate. With his help, I redecorated my apartment. I bought an XBox and Rock Band and declared my apartment to be the nexus of fun. T and I started a band in the world of that game called Monkey Deathcar. I continued to work my butt off for SPCO and to work on other publications to (hopefully) ensure that I get tenure next year. A colleague at work and I started an Opera Club for the students interested in singing that repertoire. That took up far too many hours of my life, but it ended up being a great experience.

Over the summer, I interviewed for the position of Self-Study Editor for the Accreditation Committee for LACC. I got the job and spent the better part of the fall semester editing my fool head off. I guess I missed doing that when the Aspen job ended in August (or I'm certifiably insane, you decide). The semester went off without a hitch. All of my tenure evaluations went fine. The only question the committee had for me was: "When do you sleep?" To which I should have answered: "Is that what lazy people do when they close their eyes at night?" (Credit Jon Lee for that one.) I sang a bunch of student compositions in a concert at the end of the semester, and I also performed in a benefit with Bunnies and Kitties. I went to a MACCC conference in San Diego in November, and got to visit my friend Di as part of the fun. I became better friends with Monica, Cat's cousin because of a couple of fun visits. I hosted my very first Thanksgiving with T cooking one of the best turkeys ever made. And believe me, I would know; I eat a lot of turkey.

Which brings me to some general year stuff: 2008 was the year I started singing with Bunnies and Kitties (the anti-folk duo consisting of Rafa and me), the year I joined Facebook and reconnected with a million old friends from everywhere, the year Monkey Deathcar became HUGE in Amsterdam, the year I ate beef and pork for the first time in 16 years, the year I started watching Psych and Six Feet Under, the year I became single for the first time in nine and a half years, the year I reconnected with my oldest friend from high school, the year I bought a leather couch, the year I got serious about blogging, the year I really started to learn how to get places, the year April and Cooper were born, the year that everything changed.

If life is change, 2008 proved that I am vibrantly alive. So fare-thee-well, 2008. You were full of surprises, laughter, and tears. And even with all that upheaval, I wouldn't change a single moment.

~Hero

P.S. the DecaAwesome list will return next week. Stay tuned!

You Can't Go Home Again

2008-12-26T16:38:00.000-08:00

Next installment of the Blog-A-Week Series

First, just let me say how proud I am of myself for keeping up this Blog-A-Week thing for as long as I have. Most weeks, it's the only "fun" writing I do. I'm hoping that changes in the new year; I hope I do more non-work-related writing, that is.

They say you can't go home again, but of course you can. Just buy a ticket or get in the car and drive, and boom, you're there. I guess what they mean is, when you get there, you realize it isn't home anymore. And maybe that it hasn't been home in quite some time. Some people don't like this and hang on to the old stuff as tight as can be. Some people take it in stride, just accepting whatever they find when they get where they're going.

I haven't lived in my parents' house in more than 16 years. In some ways, it will always be my home because it is the home of my childhood, but it hasn't been my residence years. Sure, there are still remnants of my life here: a drawerful of high school certificates and awards, a bulletin board of scraps of paper that seemed important once, pictures on the fridge, but the things I find most pleasing about this home, are the new things. The things that reflect how much things have changed: a copy of the email I sent telling my folks what my fall schedule was (hanging on the fridge), the picture of me that sits on the piano of me at the Ph.D. hooding ceremony, the little chairs and toys that belong to my niece. These are the things that make me happy. The stuff from my old life? That time is over and gone and there's no use in even looking at that old stuff anymore. I should use this trip home to clean some of that stuff out. Maybe I will, if I'm feeling industrious.

You can't go home again, in the same way you can't step in the same river twice. But who wants to step in the same river twice anyway? Isn't it more fun to see what's new instead of dwelling on what's old? Isn't it better to have a life where things grow and change and evolve than one where everything stays the same? Sure, it's disappointing to see all the old places where I used to eat replaced by other stores. But that's life.

All the really important things like family and support and love don't stay exactly the same, but they do stay. And I think that's the important thing.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List for home

2008-12-26T15:50:00.000-08:00

Here is a top ten list inspired by my visit home for Christmas:

Top Ten Foods of Home

1. Fusili and mom's sauce. I ate this upon arriving at my parents' house late Tuesday night. The pasta was yummy and the sauce was to die for. I miss mom's sauce all year round, and mostly eat sauce out of a jar, so it was a real treat.

2. Chinese take-out. It's what we're eating tonight. I can get good Chinese food in L.A. now (when I first moved there, I was clueless as to where to find the good stuff), but there's nothing like eating the good NY stuff out of the white take-out boxes at the dining room table.

3. Stuffed mushrooms. This is a holiday tradition, made for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I made them for the first time for Thanksgiving this year, and it was like stealing fire from the gods. Absolutely delicious.

4. Eggplant parmagiana. This is my grandma's specialty. Sometimes EP can get really heavy and greasy because you need to fry it up, but my grandma's recipe requires a draining step that makes the eggplant light and fluffy. It's practically like cake.

5. Fresh mozzarella from Iavarone's. Very soft and flavorful. Nothing like a slice of fresh mozz on a piece of semolina bread (maybe with a tomato). I could eat a ton of this.

6. Pizza from Umberto's. This is going to be tomorrow's dinner. No visit home is complete without take-out from our favorite pizza place. The sauce is magnificent. Mom likes extra sauce, but I'm good with the regular kind. They make a helluva Sicilian pie as well. Yum.

7. Elio's frozen pizza. This is best as a midnight snack food. They don't sell this kind of frozen pizza in L.A. It's the kind of pizza they used to serve at birthday parties at the roller rink. It's not real high quality, but it's awesome nonetheless. Best when overcooked a bit and kind of burnt on top.

8. Entenman's holiday cupcakes. Also something you can't get in L.A. Yes, we have a little bit of Entenman's, but for some reason, they don't sell the cupcakes. These monstrosities of sugar are made with yellow cake, a layer of chocolate on the top and a swirl of icing to match the season. Valentine's ones have cinnamon jelly beans, Christmas ones have little sugar trees, St. Patrick's Day ones have little sugar shamrocks.

9. Ham wrapped around a breadstick. Now that I'm eating pork again, I can enjoy this staple of holiday parties. The good cold cuts from M&M's (in Floral Park) don't hurt, either. The recipe? Take a slice of ham and wrap it around a breadstick. Eat. Savor.

10. Log Cookies. Mom makes these buttery-riffic cookies from a recipe she got from my Aunt Lee. They've got butter, crushed walnuts, and powdered sugar. They are fabulous, and I think of my beloved Aunt and godmother every time I eat one. Which is a lot at Christmas.

Christmas-y Things

2008-12-20T20:38:00.000-08:00

I'm combining this week's regular entry with this week's DecaAwesome List. I'm not doing it because I'm so busy. No, no! For once, I am sitting on my butt with not too many things on my "to-do" list. I gave my last final today and I've done most of my grading. I'll be handing everything in on Monday and then I'll be free to enjoy my week at home. So, I'm actually being a bit lazy for once. Since I got back home after school, I've been sitting around mostly. Watching TV and reading. Bliss and Heaven. I was asked to go out with some friends tonight, but I honestly just want to veg out on the couch. So I will.

Here goes. This week's list with possibly more explanation than usual.

1. Panera. An AMAZING bakery that T suggested I try. Not only did I eat an unbelievable bagel there (although NYC's Ess-a-Bagel still holds the title), I bought a loaf of semolina bread. I know that doesn't sound like something crazygood, but it's hard as hell to find a loaf of semolina in this town. After eating there, I went home, opened a fresh mozarella, heated up some sauce, and it was like Sunday morning at Nanny's. Score.

2. iTunes. I am putting together a recital for March, and I now have recordings of the stuff I'm considering. Easy as pie. I just searched for it, downloaded it, and soon it will be sync-ed onto my iPod. All from the couch. No wonder our country is so fat. But the convenience! The convenience!

3. Love, Actually. This was a favorite of me and my ex, and I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to watch it again. Bad memories, good memories, who the hell can tell which are worse? But I'm pleased to say that it's on right now (cut to ribbons on TBS, unfortunately), and I'm enjoying it a lot. Hey, it's a funny movie. And touching and sweet and adorable. And you know what? Even though I'm sort of anti-relationship right now, it's still freaking charming.

4. Yes Man. Saw it last night and I liked it very much. Once again, Jim Carrey's character needs the love of a slightly nutty free spirit to help him find life again, just as in one of my absolute favorite movies: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Similar idea in another fave (although this one without Jim C.): Stranger Than Fiction. I love these movies for many reasons, but I like 'em a lot because I am a slightly nutty free spirit. I just went back and read over this and "slightly nutty" spoonerized into "nightly slutty" in my tired brain. Yeah.

5. Colin Firth. He's funny and charming and English. And I love his story line in Love, Actually.

6. Rock Band. I know I put this on weeks ago, but I just had a Christmas party and it is the best party activity evers. Which brings me to #7...

7. When you have a party that you think is going to be lame, but which turns out to be really, really fun. It happened Thursday. I invited a heap of people and everyone kept canceling, and it felt like it was going to be the world's worst party. Or that I would be sitting in a party dress (like I wear those) on my couch with just my roommate to hang out with, and no guests coming over. But that is not what happened. It's not like hundreds of people came over or anything, but that's probably better because my place is not huge, but just the right amount of folks came over to make it awesome.

8. Pomegranate candles from Illuminations. Illuminations is a candle store (are they on the east coast?) and around the holidays, they sell this amazing-smelling candle called pomegranate. It is seriously the best-smelling candle, maybe ever.

9. Cold orange slices. I love orange juice so much, and getting the juice right from the orange slice is amazing. Especially when the orange is ice cold. It's better than a popsicle. Better than candy.

10. The discovery of a new Chinese restaurant. On Thursday, it was absolutely imperative that C and I stop for noodles. The closest place was one I had gone by a million times, but never ate in. And you know what? The lo mein was transcendent. I'm going to go there more often. It's pretty near school and it's a decent and reasonably-priced place. Did I mention the lo mein?

DecaAwesome List Number Five

2008-12-14T14:11:00.000-08:00

For the week ending 12/13/08.

1. Sunshine. This movie is incredible. It's gorgeous. The score is beautiful. And it's suspenseful and mind-blowing, yet still somehow so believable. WOW.

2. End-of-semester parties in lieu of classes. You get to eat cupcakes and cupcakes are great. Also, you don't have to teach.

3. Getting the stressful thing overwith. I'm so glad the faculty recital is over. It was stressing me out.

4. Candy Cane Jo-Jos. Trader Joe's Christmas cookies. They're like doublestuff oreos with ground up candy canes in 'em. Transcendent.

5. Ricky Gervais. I saw his comedy special the other day, and I was freaking crying, I was laughing so hard. The whole thing about Humpty Dumpty? I just lost it.

6. Finishing up Christmas cards. I'm almost done. Four left!

7. Poinsettias. I can actually have one this year.

8. Straws. They make any drink--even water--more festive.

9. Magazines. I bought two this week and got one in the mail. When I read them, it feels like I'm on vacation already.

10. The marimba. Saw a great piece for solo marimba last night at LACO. What an amazing instrument.

Moments Only You Remember

2008-12-13T18:59:00.000-08:00

Next Installment of the Blog-A-Week Series

Seeing as how it's Christmas time and all, we tend to focus on those memorable moments. If you have kids, you're probably even more concerned about creating memorable moments for the little ones: going to visit Santa, watching a tree lighting ceremony, making sure you get a photo of every happy surprised expression on Christmas morning. And sure, I remember those things really well from my childhood. I do remember all the moments I'm supposed to remember. I remember the Christmas mornings and the vacations, and I remember the summer movies and the picnics on the beach and the January birthday parties.

But I also remember lots of other things too. Each one of us has memories of stuff that probably no one else remembers, not even the other people involved. Plenty of those memories are about annoying things; events that pissed us off when no one else was around to hear us vent. But I'm focusing on the good memories. The happy ones of those unexpected (or even ridiculously typical) things that stick with us forever. Like the time Mom took me out for breakfast after an appointment at the orthodontist, rather than taking me right back to school. Or the time Dad, M, and I played stickball in the front of the house and when we got back inside Mom had made us pudding? Or what about that horrible winter day on the subway when I couldn't take the cold a minute longer and suddenly I heard the sweet sound of steel drums from the subway platform? Or the time I laughed so hard at Gum Ying, I nearly threw up. Or the time I made Holly laugh so hard that she indeed threw up in out kitchen sink. (She probably remembers that one.)

Like Green Day so eloquently said, we "take the photographs and still frames in [our] mind." And those pictures are of the big events: birthdays, weddings, Christmases, family reunions. But the photo album in my mind also has plenty of every day stuff that really and truly makes up life. You only get one birthday a year, but you have to get out of bed and live on the other 364 days too. Christmas comes but once a year, but the opportunity to make memories happens every single day.

So fill up your mental photo album with a snapshot of the unexpected kindness someone showed you on a Tuesday, a picture of that encouraging email your friend sent, a memory of some little miracle that maybe no one else in the world will remember. These moments will become even more treasured than the birthday party that every one remembers, because they're just yours. And you can keep them forever.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List Number Four

2008-12-06T00:20:00.001-08:00

The DecaAwesome List for the week ending December 6th.

1. Self-help books. God, I am so awful, but I am finding a couple of them really, truly helpful.

2. Creativity. Been thinking a lot about my story, and I have some interesting ideas. Also, my roommate is a composer and it's rad to hear him write music.

3. McIntosh Apples. Yummy and sweet. Best. Apples. Ever.

4. Cinnamon toast. Bread, butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Tell me a way you can combine those ingredients that's not effing delicious.

5. Gettin' shit done. I worked like a dog most of Thanksgiving weekend, but holy crap, did I produce.

6. Pure Citrus. It's a room spray, but it smells like fresh oranges. It's brilliant.

7. On Demand. Ordered and saw The Incredible Hulk tonight without leaving the couch.

8. Ruthless efficiency. I achieve it sometimes, and I'm pretty close to it these last two weeks.

9. Honesty. I'm trying out a new thing: being honest about how I feel about things. Today was kinda shitty, so when people asked me how I was (I mean, really asked me, not just howya doin'), I told them: I'm okay, but not great. And lately, when I've felt anti-social, I've just told folks, look, I can't be around people now. It's going to be a real test to see if I can keep this up around my family. I always like to act like everything is fine, so we'll see how honest I can be. It's a good thing, though, so I want to keep doing it.

10. Nuts in the shell. I bought unshelled nuts for the dessert course of my Thanksgiving. Only a few nuts got eaten, so that leaves a bowl and a half of nuts for eatin'. I've discovered that brazil nuts are pretty delicious, and that walnuts aren't just for cookies anymore. Also, the unshelled nuts just scream holiday to me. As does the case of cuties I bought.

Bonus #11. Cuties. Small, cute, and sweet. I am what I eat, neh?*

*"Neh" is an expression from Ender's Game that roughly translates as, "don't you think so?"

Existential Turkey Crisis

2008-12-05T18:02:00.000-08:00

The next installment of the Blog-A-Week Series

(I took Thanksgiving week off. Hope y'all don't mind.)

Thanksgiving of 2007 was a tough one. I had an existential crisis of sorts. One of those third-life crises jammies. One of those post-twentieth century postmodern navel gazing alone-in-a-crowd sort of thingies. The day itself was fine. I ate good food, got good news (J and K announced they were pregnant), and spent time with good people. But, I started to feel a little detached from my moorings, like I wasn't really a part of what was happening. I was upset about that for quite some time.

This Thanksgiving was different.

Still good food (Best. Turkey. Ever.) and good people, but the circumstances had changed quite a bit. It wasn't so much that I felt more in touch with the people I was with. It was that I felt more in touch with myself. I'm not saying the day didn't have its tough moments. But there were far more good ones than bad ones.

It's going to be a weird holiday being single for the first time in ten years. And, if I may give you some perspective on the issue, this will be only the second Christmas since I was seventeen where I'm a single gal. Now that is an odd thought. It's been seventeen years since I was seventeen, so that's a lot of damn holidays I spent as half of a whole. A lot of New Year's Eves kissing the same few people. A lot of Christmases I spent way too much money on gifts for my significant other. Signing cards from me and someone else. Well, guess what. I already made out about half of my Christmas cards, and they all just say, "Love, Hero." And you know something? That is okay.

Being single screws up the whole "Secret Santa" thing the crew had going for a bunch of years. But that's okay too. Life is change. We'll figure out a new way to exchange gifts. I've upset the apple cart, but I was always the rebel like that. Or so my tattoos would have you believe.

The people who are the most unhappy are the ones who cling to the stuff that has to change. So, while it hasn't been easy, it's been good. Good for me to change and grow and become a stronger person. I'm experiencing growing pains, I think. It's going to be a heck of a holiday season, though, I can tell you that. I'm growing so damn much, I won't be able to fit into my old winter coat anymore. Oh well, out with the old and in with the new. Life, coat, everything.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List Number Three

2008-11-21T00:59:00.000-08:00

Here is the DecaAwesome List for the week ending 11/22/08.

1. Simply Limeade. You wouldn't think that limeaid could be this delicious, but oh, it is. It. Is.

2. My sister. M truly rules the school. She sent me MST3K DVDs for Thanksgiving because she is amazing and she loves me.

3. MST3K. Keeps nerds entertained for hours.

4. Psych. Also a gift from my sis that I am only now getting to enjoy. I should probably be sleeping, but I'm watching another episode.

5. Super fluffy hotel beds. Like sleeping on a cloud. A king-sized cloud.

6. Sap. The closer I get to the holidays, the sappier I get. In my mind, I'm making lists of things I'm thankful for. I'm like that.

7. Red Trolley. San Diego's microbrew. Delicious.

8. Crossword puzzles. I love these things a lot.

9. Short nails. I like to keep my nails plenty short. Looks neat.

10. My friend Di. Who I will see on Saturday. She is a fine artist, a writer, a great Mom, and seriously one of the coolest people I know. She's like, top 5 for coolness.

Drabbles for Christmas!

2008-11-20T17:00:00.001-08:00

Part IX in the Blog-A-Week Series

I'm a little early this week. I am in San Diego at a conference, and I will likely be too busy tomorrow and Saturday to get this done, so I am doing it now. I don't have much time until the next event (the adjunct faculty recital in which C and K are performing), so this is gonna be a short one.

You might actually think this is a little bit of a cheat, but I am offering something, so you might just forgive me.

I have lots of friends and I would love to give all of them presents for Christmas, but since going out and buying people stuff is just not going to happen, I offer a service instead: Drabbles.

A drabble is a very short story, about 100-200 words, and I will write one for you! You write what's called the "prompt." Choose the characters, the situation, the time period, and/or an object, and it is my job to weave them all into a coherent (or semi-coherent) little story.

In the past, people have requested to put themselves in stories, or have chosen historical figures as characters:

KC (my friend), Thomas Jefferson, hiking, an attractive woman

Some try their darndest to make it tough:

Oscar Wilde, rabbit stew, the Moon landing

Some feature television characters or people from books:

Percy and Penelope (characters from Harry Potter), ribbon

Arthur Dent, wheel of cheese

Get the idea? You can also request a style of writing: romance, film noir, action, whatever.

Or, you can make your request very abstract and see what happens (see Arthur Dent, wheel of cheese).

Whatever you decide, I will take your drabble requests and get them to you by Christmas. It is my gift to you. If you want me to write a character that I don't know, I might ask you some questions. Either reply to this blog or email me directly, and I will get on the case!

DecaAwesome List Number Two

2008-11-15T17:52:00.000-08:00

This is the DecaAwesome list for the week ending November 15, 2008. In no particular order:

1. Dictionary.com. This is a website where you can look words up, and I use it all the damn time. I call it up on my Blackberry and look up words to find out their etymology or how to pronounce them. It's awesome.

2. Pandora.com. My roommate showed me this site. It's like a customized radio station, of sorts. You put in a band you like and it classifies their music and then suggests other bands or artists that do similar things. In a lot of cases, it'll show you people you already know, but it will also introduce you to folks you might never have heard of otherwise. It's probably run by a bunch of cave-dwelling musicologists.

3. Patrick Waburton. His cartoon voices, especially Brock Sampson on Venture Brothers, are so frickin' high-larious. His voice is just...so funny. Also, it was his birthday yesterday. Happy Birthday, Patrick!

4. Rieslings. Yummy white wine.

5. Not teaching middle school. I'm thankful for this one every day. I get to teach college now and it's way more fun.

6. Lush Bath Products. They're great products and they have labels that say who made them so it's all very personal. And also, they smell like chocolate and strawberry and grapefruit.

7. CocaChicken. This is a dish that T makes. It's chicken cooked for a long time in ketchup and coca cola and jebus, it is delicious. The chicken is so tender, you can cut it with a fork.

8. Iron Man. Yep. Another Robert Downey, Jr. movie. Saw it in On Demand last night. I had already seen it on the plane to Singapore, but it was way better on my pimp TV.

9. My lap desk. Keeps me from burning my legs while I'm putting in long hours editing and writing.

10. Venture Brothers DVDs. I own the first two seasons now and I've already watched all of season 1. It's good for what ails ya.

The Most Powerful Person in the World

2008-11-14T08:29:00.000-08:00

Part VIII in the Blog-A-Week Series

When I look back at some of the things I've done, I feel like the most powerful person in the world. Not because the things I've done have been so huge or magnificent, but because I did the thing/got the thing/had the thing happen that I wanted. It's like that old Disney adage: if you can dream it, you can do it. Now, before I start blathering on about this, let me take a moment to say that NONE of these things I'm referring towere things I did alone. I had someone's helping hand somewhere, even if all he or she did was stay out of the way. It's more likely, however, that these things were accomplished with the conscious help of many friends and loved ones, and of course, Joe Campbells "thousand unseen helping hands."

On Thursday, I did a couple of guest appearances at A Place Called Home (APCH), an afterschool program for kids in South Central. One of my former students works there teaching music, and over the summer, we hatched a plan for me to go and talk to his kids. So yesterday I went and I spoke to a group of middle schoolers and a group of elementary schoolers. All of it went well. I told them about being a singer, about my background, and I showed them clips of me and other singers, and sang for them. Also, I answered a million questions. It was weird being in front of middle schoolers again. It brought back memories, good and bad. The kids at APCH were mostly well-behaved and engaged, and even the troublemakers could be dealt with easily. It was a positive experience on the whole. Afterwards, I was talking to M about teaching middle school and about how difficult I found it. He agreed that it was one of the hardest jobs ever (take that, Deadliest Catch folks!). M then asked about the series of circumstances that brought me from a middle school in Brooklyn, to Los Angeles, through one of the most well-respected musicology programs in the country, and into a full-time job at LACC. And truly, at that moment, I couldn't really call up the many millions of machinations that made all of it possible. What I thought to myself was, 'I wanted these things, and they happened.'

But it sure as hell wasn't magic, because it was a lot of hard work. It was studying in the bathtub when J and I lived in the studio, buying a car just so I could get from one job to another, spending literally thousands of hours in the library, agonizing over words in the dissertation, spending thousands of dollars to go to conferences to give papers and get feedback. But none of that stuff matters in the big picture because it all went towards the completion of the goal. I set out to do something and it got done. It took five years of work and sacrifice (and tens of thousands of dollars), but it got done. That's a powerful feeling. The feeling that you can want something and that you can get it.

And it hasn't just been the Ph.D. and the job; there have even been people that I really wanted to get to know, and now I can call them my friends. Sometimes I feel like I can do anything I set my mind to. Those are good days.

But here's the thing, I don't really know what I want so my power isn't much use to me at the moment. But that's all right. Not knowing what you want isn't so bad either. Chaos has is own charm. Perhaps right now, chaos is the work of those thousand unseen helping hands leading me to the next thing.

DecaAwesome List Number One

2008-11-08T08:50:00.000-08:00

For the week ending 11/8/08

A word before we start. I am a compulsive list-maker. At any one time, I have a master list that is categorized (stuff for school, special projects, errands, etc.), and a list that breaks tasks down day-by-day. Lists help me keep track of all the many things I must do. I also find them fun. Why? God only knows. Anyway, I love making lists of things that make me happy, and so I introduce to you, the DecaAwesome List, a top ten of stuff from the week. Sometimes I'll include an explanation with the list item and sometimes I'll let these things speak for themselves. In no particular order:

1) The Big Bang Theory and Venture Brothers. The two funniest shows on television. And they're two shows that were specifically designed to be funny to complete nerds. Big Bang Theory is on Mondays at 8 on CBS. Venture Brothers is on Adult Swim (Cartoon Network) every night at 12:30AM.

2) Chipotle - the restaurant. I ate food from there for the first time this week. It's always been a favorite of S and C, but I've never eaten there myself because I'm so damn picky. But then S told me I could have them make my burrito as boring as I liked. So I did and it was delicious. I even liked the cilantro rice, and I usually HATE cilantro. Score!

3) Pilsbury Cinnamon Buns. It's WRONG how good they are. Wrong. Also, I'm hungry right now.

4) Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. Robert Downey, Jr. is maybe the funniest guy ever. I laughed like a freak throughout the whole thing. I just love meta stuff. Shane Black is a genius.

5) My purple pen. It was the one perk I got from judging the student Talent Show at school. It's just a plain Bic, but it writes in purple ink and it makes me happy.

6) Hotel pens. Yes, the nerd has two entries about PENS. The bulk of my pens comes from hotels. Sitting next to my keyboard on the desk is a pen from the Hyatt. I love hotel pens because they're free, and I usually get them when I'm at a conference. Conferences give me that good feeling of possibility so, by association: hotel pens = possibility.

7) Change. Not in a nickel and dime kinda way and not in an Obama way either. I just mean that you can be unhappy and you can change it. You can change your reaction, change your actions, change your situation, and just generally flip the script on almost anything. You just have to be willing to do it.

8) The Artist's Way. I'm reading it. It makes me feel like I'm validating my desire to write more. By reading this book, I am silently saying, "I'm serious about this."

9) The drum part of "Cherub Rock" on Rock Band. One of the most enjoyable songs I have yet played on this addictive game. Also, my band, Monkey Deathcar is very big in Amsterdam.

10) Editing. I was up until 3:30 last night working on the Accreditation Document, and even though the job is a total pain in the ass, it feels really good to fix something that's broken. Who ever guessed that I would be good at fixing anything? I can't fix a car or a dishwasher. I can't fix elections or contests. I can't even glue something back together without bonding two of my fingers together. But damn it, I can fix a sentence that makes no sense. I can make your subject and verb agree. I can maintain parallel construction and proper syntax. I can translate "english" into English. And I can have fun doing it, even at 3 in the morning.

~Hero

Dusty Corners of My Mind

2008-11-07T08:44:00.000-08:00

Part VII in the Blog-A-Week Series

In addition to my normal blog entry, I am introducing a new feature this week: the DecaAwesome List. It's a top ten of things that have been awesome this week. I plan to make this a weekly feature and I might just make it its own entry. Stay tuned...

On the way driving to work today, I smelled tar. They must have been doing some road work or something, because as I drove by Alvarado on the 101, I smelled the unmistakable odor of tar. This smell has very powerful memories for me. When I was living in the Hunter dorms many moons ago (somewhere around 11-14 years ago), maintenance folks were re-tarring the roof of my dorm and the adjoining south building. The smell of tar permeated the air for weeks on end. God only knows what kind of lung disease I developed just from living there. So whenever I smell tar, it always reminds me of this particular period in my college history. And furthermore, it reminds me of a particular incident.

I was sitting in my dorm room, good old 1053 (spent every fall and spring there for 5 years). It was probably early afternoon. I want to say it was a Saturday...in Spring. And all of a sudden, the fire alarms started going off. I ignored them as I had learned to do from dozens of false alarms over the years. Until I heard commotion in the common area. I opened my door and leaned out to find people milling about and one very panic-stricken girl pushing the elevator button frantically and muttering something like, "On fire. It's on fire. Heh. FIRE." I turned around, grabbed a pair of shoes, my wallet, and my keys and fled down the stairs calling over to Panic Girl: "You don't take the elevator in a fire, you take the stairs." When I got outside, I joined a crowd of folks, and then I saw that the roof of the south building was en fuego. At first, I breathed a sigh of relief because my building wasn't in any immediate danger, but I reminded myself that fire is unpredictable, and that the two buildings were, in fact, connected. The more practical part of my brain started making a list of irreplaceable things I might have been about to lose.

I stood out there with my friend Dan and got giggly. I tend to do that when I'm not immediately involved in a situation. After a while of watching and smelling the tar burn (fire is a mesmerizing sight), a bunch of us--some in pajamas and slippers--walked to a Starbucks a couple of blocks away. There wasn't anything that we could do about the fire, so we figured: latte. Or in my case, a nice cup of tea.

There's something special about those moments that are so far out of the ordinary that they stand out. I knew it was unlikely I'd ever see the dorm fire again, and we also figured out that the FDNY had the situation well in hand right away. So we sat in Starbucks, sipping our drinks, savoring the uniqueness of the moment. A moment that I always remember when the good people of L.A. County public works are filling a pothole or patching up some street I'm driving by.

Amazing how the mind remembers such details. The smell of tar will forever remind me of: college, the dorm, Dan, fire, Panic Girl, and sitting in Starbucks across from someone wearing pajamas and bunny slippers.

~Hero

BOO!

2008-11-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

Part VI in the Blog-A-Week Series

Yesterday was Halloween. I wore two costumes. At school, I was a "sexy countess" (the label said so) complete with a "scarlett o'hara" wig. It was a strange little costume because it's not really anything specific. Just a vague 18th century-type thing. But it was a sort of theme with the other young faculty in my department. Then last night at a friend's party, I was a Playboy Bunny. I chose that costume because it was flattering, but more importantly, it was a costume that came in my size. So many of the other interesting costumes I saw came only in larger sizes.

The bunny costume was successful. It was not without problems, though. My ears got caught on all hanging decorations, and I spent the party tugging down the back of the skirt for propriety's sake. As costumes go, it wasn't too uncomfortable. Except for the shoes which were excruciating. I could barely walk this morning. Today I am wearing big, fat, clunky, flat shoes. Ahhhh...

So I started thinking about how we choose our costumes as adults and how we chose them as kids. It's kinda fascinating. When we're kids, we pick characters we like and identify with. Like Luke Skywalker or Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Or something more general like an army guy or a surgeon. Halloween gives us a chance--even when we're adults--to play pretend for a day. Dress up really fancy or, in contrast, go the ol' hobo route. Take all of Boba Fett's badass street cred without actually becoming a bounty hunter yourself.

Some people pick theme costumes they can wear with a significant other or friend. I remember P and S coming as doctor and accident victim one year. C and K always choose a theme for the two of them. Last night, K was a dragon and C was the warrior princess destined to slay him. A married couple came to the party as party games: he was Operation (complete with removable sticky body parts--entre nous, when I got home I realized his "water on the knee" was stuck to the bottom of my shoe) and she was Twister (her hat was the spinner). Or you could choose based on a group idea. When I lived in Queens, every year, my group of friends said it was doing Star Wars as a theme. I was going to be Boba Fett, but it never actually happened. *sigh*

As we grow up, getting a costume is really more of an inconvenience than anything else. Like, "Oh damn, I have to decide what to be by Friday." It's not like when you're a kid and you see a movie in June and you just KNOW that you're going to be so-and-so in four months. And if you're in a couple, you have to wonder if your significant other is going to be annoyed if you're something that stands alone ("So what am I supposed to be, honey?"). And if you're single, are you going to pick something that might get you someone's digits?

I admit, I kinda copped out this year. A Bunny? Really? As I said, it was the only costume I liked and fit into. I wasn't dying to be a bunny. But there wasn't anything else that piqued my interest either. I miss the days when I was a kid and picking a Halloween costume meant something. It was a statement of ideals, of what was important to you. Did you want to be the hero Luke (even though he was a little whiny)? Or did you want to go as the badass scoundrel Han? Did you want to be a heroic firefighter, or a rock out in a toga? Princess or pumpkin?

Is it just because I'm grown up that I don't care so much about what I am anymore? Or is it that I'm missing some heroes in my life? I don't know, but I do have hope that it won't always be an inconvenience. Next year, maybe someone--real or imagined--will emerge and I'll want to be them for Halloween for next year.

If not, there's always McLovin'.

~Hero

Laughing Place

2008-10-23T19:58:00.000-07:00

Part V in the Blog-A-Week Series

Five weeks and I'm still sticking to it! Yes!

Today is Thursday and I have no classes to teach on Thursday. Usually, I use my days off (Tuesdays and Thursdays) to do errands and basically run around like mad. But I planned ahead, moved some things around, and made today a free day so I could go to Disneyland. I haven't been since last year when I sang with the choir there. I bought an annual pass on that trip and I never got to use it. Anyhoo, I went with a buddy and I spent the day riding rides, eating kettle corn, and taking a break from the crazy work that has been eating my head.

I haven't been on Splash Mountain in years, but it was a really hot day so we decided to go. I forgot that the theme of the ride is Song of the South. For a time when I was growing up, my Dad used to read my sister and me stories about Brer Fox and Brer Bear and that clever Brer Rabbit. And one of the things Brer Rabbit used to talk about was his "Laughin' Place." Brer Rabbit used to go there to laugh at how he'd outsmarted Brer Fox and Brer Bear. He also went there when things weren't going so well; it was a place to step back, reassess, and find ways to turn disadvantages into advantages. In short, a Laughing Place is a place to look on the bright side, whether reality makes that easy or not.

I had forgotten all about the laughing place, and I can name you a dozen times in the last few months when I could have used one. There have been some really tough moments where I just wanted to escape to a place where I could get some time to think by myself. So while I was on Splash Mountain, I started to think about where my Laughing Place is. Where can I go to get away from everything and everyone? What place feels so comfortable that my stress level goes down just being there?

I thought long and hard about this, and what I came up with proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am a nerd to the core. My Laughing Place is USC's Doheny Library. Like most libraries, it's quiet and cool and full of books. I spent so much time there when I was a student that I can pretty much find my way through it blind. Besides the hours and hours I was in there doing my class assignments, I spent two years researching my dissertation in the Cinema Library, the Music Library, and the regular stacks. God help me, I love it there. To me, it represents knowledge, but that library also represents something even more important: possibility. I can think there. I can plan there. I can gather my thoughts in the serene silence, and strategize. When I leave, I always feel revitalized and full of ideas.

As a bonus, out in front of the library, there's a little rose garden that surrounds a beautiful fountain. On my way in or out of the library, I smell the roses, just to remind myself that I'm not in so much of a rush that I can't enjoy the simple things. I always stop and smell the roses. No matter what.

I guess part of it is also what USC has meant to me. Nine years ago, when I was miserable teaching middle school, and I decided that I wanted to get my Ph.D. and teach college, USC was the place that was going to help me achieve that dream. When I was taking classes there and working my part-time job in the library, it was the place where that dream was coming true. I remember taking moments here and there to appreciate the fact that I was doing actually doing what I said I was going to. To me, it's magic because of that. It is a place where a dream came true, minute by minute, day by day, over five amazing, life-changing years. The day I graduated will always be one of the best, most magical days of my life.

So now, when I need a little magic or when I need to remember that dreams come true if you work hard and take some risks, I go there. I'm judging from the lack of shocked looks that none of you is surprised. My Laughing Place is a library. Hmm. Imagine that.

~Hero

Midterm Progress Report

2008-10-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

Part IV in the Blog-A-Week Series

We've just about struck midterm here at school. Saturday will mark the end of week 7 out of 15. I thought that now would be as good a time as any to give myself a little midterm progress report. I've devised some categories and I'm going to evaluate how I'm doing in each.

School: I'm in the groove here. I have a big job ahead of me in the next week, making up the midterm for my Music Appreciation class, but it's completely do-able. My other classes are singing classes and we don't do midterms in those, so it's just like any other week. I've decided that I need to stay more in touch with changes in the educational zeitgeist so I think I might subscribe to the MENC (Music Educators National Council) publication. Also, I'm reading a couple of books to help hone my teaching technique. After all, I never thought I'd be teaching voice so it's high time I got fully on board with the program. This is my job now and will be for a while, so I might as well be the best I can be at it. Assessment: feelin' fine.

Accreditation: This would be going so much better if I had some time to do it. The report has been written (by many hands) in a language that is almost English. I'm constantly yelling at the computer screen nerdy things like, "No! NO! NO! Doesn't ANYONE care about syntax anymore?!?" or "That's NOT a verb! This sentence has no VERB!" or "For the love of GOD, stop misusing APOSTROPHES!!!!!" My roommate can attest that I spend as much time yelling at the computer as I do actually editing. It's slow-going, but it's getting done, and come hell or high water, it has to be done soon. Assessment: needs work (and time).

Program Notes: Can you believe I'm still writing these? Yep. St. Paul Chamber Orchestra still has me writing all the way through February. I have two notes due in the next few days and two corrections due ASAP. I'm getting them done, hopefully today. Assessment: Satisfactory, if slightly annoying.

Writing: I'm keeping up with the Blog-A-Week thing so that's good. However, I've completely neglected my two novels-in-progress, and I don't know if I'm going back to them any time soon. They're just not under my skin anymore. One of them, the adult one, I might abandon completely (for now, at least), just because it deals with a lot of stuff that was going on before the break-up and I don't know that I want to get back into that. I did come up with a really good idea for a funny book while I was on the couch at therapy yesterday. Might be therapeutic too. We'll see. Assessment: making progress, but needs work.

Social: Things are going well here. I think I'm making myself available for fun stuff. The duo I sing back-up for, Bunnies and Kitties, had a show last night and it was a very successful event. A lot of people came and I had a chance to hang out with Cael a bit. Maybe I'll have drinks with CP this afternoon (if I get my program notes done), and I think I'm going to see a movie with my roommate tonight. I have a dinner date with Cat tomorrow night. I saw Steve earlier in the week, and I had a chance to talk to Rebecca. I even got to see Pat briefly on Tuesday. In short, I'm maintaining a healthy social calendar. I do owe some folks emails. Assessment: Pretty good, but I better watch out that I don't overdo it.

Romantic: Let's not even GO there, shall we? Assessment: Ick.

Other: Well sir, I have some other projects that have been simmering on the backburner so long, I wonder if they're still viable. One is the Back to the Future paper. I feel like all I need is one full day to get this done. One full day of nothing but this, and I can get it into shape. If a full day of nothing does not present itself, I will take a mental health day from school and create one. All the other stuff (book proposal and article) will have to wait until after Thanksgiving, I think. Assessment: Entirely do-able.

Overall Assessment: I guess I'm doing all right. It helps to see it all laid out like this, I think. I've always been pretty good at prioritizing and keeping things on track. I find that I'm still catching up from summer work. Also, the events of the end of summer, i.e. the break-up and Singapore, sapped my energy for a period that was perhaps a little too long, but I must accept my humanity and extreme imperfection. Now I'm back and trying to go at it full force. I'm putting my head down and my shoulder to the wheel. Next time I look up, it might just be Christmas.

~Hero

One Errand at a Time

2008-10-10T08:34:00.000-07:00

Part III in the Blog A Week series

When you spend a lot of time with someone who is good at something, I think it's tempting to let him or her do that thing whenever it comes up. Me? I am terrible at directions. I have a computer brain for some things--phone numbers, for instance--but remembering where things are or how to get from point A to point B is always going to be a struggle for me. J is a savant when it comes to directions so when we were together, I just let him do that. I didn't pay attention in the car when we drove somewhere, I didn't make note of where we were and where we'd just come from. Even when I got my own car 3 years ago, I still called him up on the phone when I needed to get to a store, or when I was in the midst of being well and truly lost.

But now I can't do that. And I shouldn't. I'm in my thirties, for heaven's sake, and I should be able to find a Trader Joe's by myself. Also, I should probably know where north is, but I think there's a magnet in my brain that thwarts that effort. Since the break-up, I toyed with the idea of getting myself a GPS. I probably still should, but I haven't yet. Nope, right now it's Mapquest, the Thomas Guide, spoken directions, and some roughly drawn maps from Steve.

For the most part, I'm getting where I need to go. I know this is pathetic--me telling you this--since I'm sure anyone reading this is like, 'yeah. duh. this is what happens when you get your own driver's license.' But it's not like that for me. I got my license at 17, but I didn't own a car until 14 years later. I drove to the same five places in New York, and for the last five years before I moved to California, I took the train everywhere. So it's not a skill set I've been using. Until now.

Yesterday, I had to give blood in Pasadena. I managed to find the place all right using the Thomas Guide. Sad as it seems, I did a little victory dance when I found it without getting lost. Small victories are sweet. Then, as I was giving blood, I realized the next errand was returning my non-working copy of Rock Band to Best Buy, and I had no idea where there was a Best Buy. Now, I'm the kind of person who will go completely out of her way to go back to a familiar place rather than figure out a new, riskier way. So I could have gone to the Burbank Best Buy or even the Los Feliz one, but instead, I got on the phone while I was eating my cookies and juice, and I called information. Like a grown-up! I found out that there was a Best Buy mere blocks from where I was sitting.

So I used my maps and I got there. I exchanged the game and went on my merry way. All without getting lost. I felt so proud of myself. Proud enough to write about it here. I didn't call anyone for help (except information, but that totally doesn't count). I didn't have to rely on someone else to get me where I needed to go. I got myself there and it felt pretty darn good. Small victories are indeed sweet. I'm reclaiming my independence one errand at a time.

~Hero

Get Out of Your Own Damn Way

2008-10-04T14:10:00.000-07:00

Part II in the Blog A Week Series

I'm just getting this entry in under the wire. Whew! Don't want to blow the whole blog-a-week thing on week 2. That is just not on. So, here we go. I am a moderately successful person in the world, I think. Sure, there are still thousands of things I have yet to do, but I'm doing all right: friends, jobs, hobbies, extracurriculars. Maybe if I continue to work really hard, I'll become a grand success. And if I do, I think I'll write a self-help book. I already have the name picked out: Get Out of Your Own Damn Way. And it'll have a kicky subtitle like: Removing Obstacles to Your Own Success.

Here's the thing: as an educator, I see people getting in their own way all the time. And it's frustrating, especially when you see it happen to people who could really make a difference in the world. Wasted potential is almost as bad as wasted time, but wasted time you can never get back. It breaks my heart that some of my students never got encouragement when they were younger, and they've suffered all of their lives because of it. And now, instead of just doing the things they want to do in life, they have to spend years finding ways over or around the junk that blocks their progress. Sometimes I think I was called to do my job because I was given so much encouragement by my parents. As if they trained me to do the very thing that I'm doing. Not the music part, but the encouragement part. The nurturing patience part. The love part.

Helping folks reach their potential is a topic that's always on my mind, so imagine my surprise when I read about this very thing in an article in The Key Reporter this week (this is Phi Beta Kappa's quarterly publication). The article was taken from a lecture by Richard Leo Enos from Texas Christian University. He uses Michelangelo and Victor Hugo as examples of people who were driven by some unseen force to use their talents to the full. What made these guys go out there and give it their all, while most of us let time pass us by? Some, like Greek educator, Isocrates believed that a smart and successful student has three traits: talent, the willingness to practice, and experience. Talent, well that's a given. Although baseball great Lou Gehrig maintained that he wasn't born with any more talent for baseball than anyone else; it was practice that made the difference for him. Practice, he said, turns failure into success. Experience is what happens when you actually try. There's no substitute for it. Problem is, a lot of people don't even get to that stage. Or they think they're not ready for it so they practice their life away, not realizing that at some point, you need to try whether or not you feel ready.

In his lecture, Enos cites Aristotle who said that in addition to talent, a person has dynamis, or power. It's this power that allows people to take risks and make that leap. Most people don't tap into this power. Or they wait for the signal to come from outside, not realizing that it's already there inside of them. Enos concludes by saying that the three things necessary for success are: hard work, effort, and risk-taking.

To these, I'd add attitude. Attitude turns failure into success (you learned from it, didn't you?). Attitude also turns anxiety into excitement, obstacles into challenges, risks into adventures. I don't know how to get my students to understand that they too can be successful. The best I've figured out so far is telling them what I know and modeling this behavior. When I figure out more concrete methods, I'll write my book.

This could be a scary time for me, newly single, on my own for the first time in forever. But I'm trying to take on the challenges as they come. Driving to places I've never been before (and getting lost), trying to fix things that I've never fixed, trying not to blame myself for every disaster. And it's all about my attitude, I think.

A song from the musical Wicked keeps running through my head. It's "Defying Gravity," and the song starts out, "Something has changed within me/ Something is not the same." Well, that's for sure. A few lines later, it goes on, "Too late for second-guessing/ Too late to go back to sleep./ It's time to trust my instincts/ Close my eyes and leap."

So that's it. That's what I tell my students and what I tell myself. The time for overthinking is over. Push through the moment of doubt. There's something great on the other side, so do it: close your eyes and leap.

~Hero

Blog a week

2008-09-26T15:35:00.001-07:00

Last time I posted, it was June. Lots of things have happened since then, and I won't even attempt to give details about most of it. The biggest change is that I'm single. This news has been treated with disbelief all around town, but I assure you it is true. I'm all right, but it's still difficult. Good days and bad days, you know.

Also, I visited Singapore in August. It was a life-changing trip, a spiritual journey of sorts.

School started back up and I've been working like mad at all of my jobs.

In general, it's life, only slightly more complex. The stress of the summer has subsided, replaced with the stress of the fall semester. I'm trying to take it all in stride and use the lessons I've learned.

I've come to many conclusions, but I'm only going to share one right now:

I don't write enough.

I want to be a writer so that means that I have to write. Every day. As much as I can. To this end, I'm challenging myself to blog more often. A Blog A Week is the plan. Starting next week. Well, I guess this is a blog entry, so...I guess it's starting this week.

Yes. More writing. So it is written, so it shall be done...or something.

~Hero

An editor's life for me?

2008-06-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

It's June 28 and I am in the midst of the craziest summer of my life. I thought last summer was crazy, and it was, but it was a different kind of insanity. More focused, let's say on one gigantic earth-shattering event. Last June, our L.A. family out here closed ranks around our friends whose ten-month-old was diagnosed with a brain tumor. We all spent plenty o' time in the hospital last summer, hanging out, bringing meals to our friends, trying to help out in any way we could. It's with joy that I say things are going well for that special little boy, and we've put last summer's focused insanity behind us.

This summer is entirely unique. I mentioned in an earlier post being a workaholic, and nothing has changed. It's just that the amount of work I'm required to do is...is...well, it's astonishing. In all my 34 years, I have never worked this much. I have never slept this little. Not even during the final throes of my dissertation. Not even when I was taking my comps. Or my quals, for that matter. Hell, the only reason I'm writing this blog is because I had to be up early to work and I had a quiet moment to do something for myself.

I won't go into details about what I'm doing because those are facts that bore even me, but I will talk about the consequences of a schedule that involves teaching, the Aspen job, the LACO job, the SPCO job, and the publishing stuff. I'm not actually complaining because, first of all, doing these things has been my choice, and I have no problem living with my decisions. Second of all, I do feel so blessed to have so many opportunities. I realize how lucky I am to have this work, and I certainly haven't forgotten how awful it was to be a temp during the summertime.

I suppose what I'm doing here is enumerating the consequences of my choices. I'm not real big on regrets (they're kindofa waste), so I suppose this is just a way to take stock of the situation.

Casualty #1 - Jeff

My one and only is getting the short end of the stick because I haven't washed a dish since we moved. I've barely unpacked, I leave everything a mess, and I'm busy all the time. We usually go to the movies at least three times a month and we've only seen two movies this summer. It ain't right. Also, I miss him.

Casualty #2 - my friends

The juggling is hard to do. I want to maintain my friendships, stay in touch with people. Maybe even hang out once in a while. It's hard to do when you have so much on your plate. I miss my friends and I know some of them wonder just what the hell is up with me half the time. I do a pretty good job of making myself available, I think. And I try to be there for them if they need me, but I know some folks have fallen through the cracks and it just kills me.

Casualty #3 - my fiction

I haven't written a word of fiction in months. *shakes head* I was supposed to really hit it hard this summer, but that has just not happened. I haven't written. Not a word. And it just hurts.

Casualty #4 - my body

This temple is falling apart. I routinely get fewer than five hours of sleep a night, and when I pull all-nighters--which I do occasionally now (and which I NEVER did in college or grad school, for that matter)--I'm so tired, I get nauseated. I often forget to eat and then wonder why I'm so hungry hours later. When I do have the opportunity to go out, I drink. My liver is NOT a happy camper right now.

Casualty #5 - the apartment

Busy-ness makes me even sloppier than usual (poor Jeff has to live in and around my insanity), and my desk is a pile of unpacked, yet unorganized stuff Jeff affectionately calls, Mt. Crappy.

I don't know when things are going to change, but they can't stay like this forever.

This alleged "summer" is crazy, but I suppose I'm just going to eat it up with a spoon and embrace it for all its chaos. Such is life. My life.

When six hours of sleep seems glorious...

2008-05-09T18:44:00.000-07:00

I like to think that I'm the type of person who does what needs to be done. Like, if there are dirty dishes in the sink, I'll wash 'em. This week, I found out that the production schedule for my editing job listed an erroneous deadline. It said all the docs for the program wrap were due on May 14. Except that on May 6, the printer called and said, "Hey, if you want the docs in the proof, everything should be due on May 5." And I think I looked behind me at the calendar and said, "You mean yesterday?"And, in fact, she did mean yesterday.

Soooooo...I spent the last three nights up late late late, editing like mad and turning stuff in. Forty-two documents in all. I slept three hours the first night (got up and taught music theorat 7:50AM), four hours the second night, and a glorious six hours the third night. When six hours seems like sleeping in, you're either working too hard...or you have kids.

The good news is that I've done the lion's share of the work for this particular deadline. Put out most of the flames from this particular fire. I am by no means finished, but I might sleep eight hours tonight.

There's a lot of other stuff going on with my jobs and such. We're getting into the last weeks of the semester and that means final exams. My students are doing concerts all over the place (some are my responsibility, some are not). I myself am singing in some concerts as well (and choreographing the benefit concert at church). And did I mention? We're moving. Yep. Big Red and I signed a lease today for a place in Highland Park. We have a full two weeks to move, but I think you can imagine that my time to move is severely limited. Luckily, Red is spearheading the moving movement. He's a peach.

Right now, I think I might nap for about twenty minutes and maybe catch a movie with the man. I'll start fresh in the morning.

Eight hours of sleep. I can hardly believe it.

~Hero

Lazy Lima Bean

2008-04-22T18:54:00.000-07:00

There used to be a sketch comedy show starring some of the Wayans Brothers called In Living Color. There was a recurring sketch called "Hey, Mon," starring a very busy Jamaican family. Each member of the family had numerous jobs, to a nearly insane degree. One family member might be a doctor, nurse, orderly, janitor, and lawyer (for the malpractice, presumably). Anyone not having multiple jobs was dubbed, "A Lazy Lima Bean."

My family's been calling me "Lazy Lima Bean" for years, but its not cos they're mean; they're just being ironic. In the almost twenty years since I started working, I've held multiple jobs for probably eighteen of those years. Working three part-time jobs at once seemed normal back in my college days; the year I graduated, I was gainfully employed by the Honors Program, the History Department, and the Journal of Philosophy. Some years, I had five W-2s. I always assumed that a time would come when I grow up and have a single job. You know, like most grown-ups I know.

Then I went to grad school and decided to become an academic.

So...that means you work your ass off to get a degree, you pray for a full-time job, and in the meanwhile, you work a million jobs anywhere you can. It's expected. Halfway through grad school, I started working at Pasadena City College teaching classes here and there. Then I got a gig at Los Angeles City College. After I graduated, USC gave me a class. I also taught at Santa Monica College. Running around like this is so common for academics, we have a special name for it here in the southland: freeway flying.

I used to dream of the day I'd get that full time job and finally stop freeway flying. I didn't do it for all that long, but it was long enough. Then, it happened. A full-time job pretty much fell into my lap, and I thought I was entering into the land of one W-2.

But that was not how it went down. Last summer, I got a job writing program notes for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. This summer, I'm adding a similar gig with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. And just two weeks ago, I got another job for the summer this time as editor for the Aspen Music Festival. I'm going to have a busy couple of months, for sure, but it occurs to me that I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

I'm not saying that having one job is boring to me. Or that I have ADD or something. I suppose I like to feel needed. Like there's something I can contribute. Also, being stretched thin makes me feel alive in the same way that base jumping makes some folks feel alive. I'm not a stress junkie or anything. I'm an...accomplishment junkie. A resume item-adding freak. Busy as a B-plus. Call me what you will.

Just don't call me a lazy lima bean.

~Hero

Get busy livin'

2008-04-16T15:05:00.000-07:00

The internet is a powerful thing. It's a source of endless information (some reliable, some not). It's a way to connect with people who have similar interests. It's a way to check out what's happening in the world. You can do everything from order pizza to submit your dissertation using the internet. I still remember the day I realized the internet's awesome power: I typed "The Lord of the Rings and Led Zeppelin" into Yahoo and came upon pages and pages dedicated to the connections between them. I thought to myself, this is an amazing, beautiful, terrible beast.

I didn't know I was gonna use it to make friends.

I have mentioned in the past my OWC (online writing circle). It's a close-knit group of friends. We share our writing, edit and comment on each others' stories, encourage each other. Two weeks ago, one of these friends died tragically in a car accident. Anjali was twenty-five years old. Like some of my internet friends, I actually met Anj in person before we were in the OWC together, but we grew closer over the internet. We had a lot in common. She was a musician and a teacher, and we shared the same passion for learning and education.

When I first starting surfing the web, I never imagined that I would make real, honest-to-God friends there. People to chat with? Sure. Folks to take the old futon off my hands? Absolutely. But friends? I had serious doubts about that. I guess I had the prejudice that "internet friends" were all a bunch of sexual predators who lied about being six-foot-tall buxom blondes. What can I say? I'm from New York. We're always on our guard. (To this day, when someone brushes past me--even if it's a kid--I check for my wallet. Old habits die hard, I guess.) I couldn't just assume that my internet friends would be real, amazing, wonderful people, could I? But they were. They are.

The way I found out about Anj was a phone call from another internet friend, Georgia. She's been a close friend for years, even though I met her in person for the first time a month ago. Georgia called to tell me about Anj, and the two of us cried for an hour together. Since then, we've been talking about how Anj's death has affected us, calling and texting when the day hits a rough patch or when something in particular reminds us of her.

The other day I was talking to one of my students, and we were talking about age. I asked her how old she is and she said, "I'm 25." And for some reason, that was just like a punch in the gut. Twenty-five years old. Like Anj. Here's my student, with nothing but awesome life in front of her, and Anj--whose life was taking off in new and interesting ways--who won't get the chance to do so many things. The way she died is also screwing with my head a little bit. Imagine leaving the house one day and just...never getting back home. Maybe she left dirty dishes in the sink, or the laundry unfolded (this is not a prompt for you to go do housework or anything). I know for a fact that she left 11 unanswered comments on her blog. God, that just hurts to think about.

From a purely selfish perspective, it's just scary to think that I could leave my work unfinished. I've got three novels going right now, and the idea that they might not be completed is frightening to me. And finishing them is going to get slightly thornier because of my new summer job. This post was supposed to be all about the job, but Anj was on my mind so it'll have to wait. I guess, though, that even if I live to be 110, there will still be things I would have wanted to do. I'm just that type of person, I think. I'm pretty sure Anj was too.

I'm grateful to the internet for allowing me a place to be friends with Anj, for giving us a forum to meet up and talk and discuss music and scholarship and Japanese and anime and Harry Potter. I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to know her over the last two and a half years. She wasn't just an "internet friend." She was a friend, and I'm gonna miss her terribly.

~Hero

P.S. Next time: The Sarah Marshall movie and the new job.

Meeting celebrities

2008-03-31T21:46:00.000-07:00

I grew up in New York, and when you're from the city, you inevitably see famous people. Most New Yorkers I know, do not bother famous people. One time, I rode the subway with Sara Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick. The three of us shorties were hanging onto the same pole. No one spared them a second glance. We were all, like, 'hey, those guys' and then we went about our business. I don't mind seeing celebrities, but I won't go up to them.

I'm a big fan of the TV show, Supernatural. This weekend, I went to a convention where the stars of the show appeared and signed autographs. I had mixed feelings about meeting them. Well, I met them, and everything went fine; they were perfectly lovely people. But for the last few weeks, I've been thinking about why meeting them got me so twisted up.

Here's the thing. I'm a pretty cool gal. I'm smart and funny and I like to think I'm a force to be reckoned with. When I meet a celebrity, it's a completely one-sided thing. I went to the con to tell these folks how much I admire them, but meanwhile, they didn't have any idea that I'm pretty awesome too. I know all about them, but they know nothing about me. For some reason, I think that sucks out loud.

For about ten seconds, I toyed with the idea of making up a t-shirt that said something like, "I'm not just a fan of Supernatural; I'm a college professor, musicologist, writer..." etc.

I wanted them to know I wasn't just some giggling obsessed fangirl. I'm a real person, and I'm just as worthy to be met as they are.

Is that weird?

Anyway, all the folks who came to the con were absolutely wonderful. Very gracious, charming, and genuine, and I'd love to meet them all again. But next time, I want it to be because they want to meet me.

;-)

~Hero

Save the Vocative Comma!!

2008-03-28T13:22:00.000-07:00

The vocative comma is a very important thing. I'm not saying I'm always perfect about using them. The folks that beta read my stories can attest to that. However, I know where they're supposed to go, and I know I've been missing them in the ad campaign for Judd Apatow's upcoming film, Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

What's that, now? You don't know about the vocative comma? Let me explain with a little grammar lesson (although I'm sure many of my readers know a helluva lot about grammar). Each word in a sentence has a function. The function of a word is referred to as its case. You learn about cases when you study a language like Latin or German. In those languages (called "inflected") and others, the ending of a word changes based on its case. We have that a little in English (who vs. whom, for example), but in English, word order creates context and meaning. In inflected languages, word order is less important. The words with their different endings convey all the meaning you need. You can figure out a word's function just by looking at its ending (we called that "parsing"). Word endings for nouns can tell you number and gender, while verb endings convey person, number, tense, and voice.

Anyhoo, long story short, we have cases in English, we just never use that terminology to talk about them. The nominative case refers to the subject of a sentence, the accusative is the direct object, and so on. The vocative case refers to someone in the sentence who is being called or addressed ("vocative" comes from the Latin word "vocare" meaning "to call"). As in, "Hey, you!" In English, vocative commas help the reader understand who is being addressed. In the sentence, "Get me that wrench, John," I'm addressing John. Without the comma, the meaning of the sentence changes. "Get me that wrench John," is telling some unknown person or entity to acquire something called a "wrench John" whatever that is. (Perhaps it's a little bathroom for wrenches?)

So if I say, "Don't eat Mom!" I must be addressing some cannibal who's about to cook up my Mom for dinner. But if I say, "Don't eat, Mom!" then I'm telling her not to chow down on the food. Maybe because it's not cooked properly or something.

Everyone good on the grammar? Okay, good. Let's get to my rant.

The ad campaign for the movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall features a series of seemingly handwritten billboards. One says, "YOU SUCK SARAH MARSHALL." What could this billboard mean?

1) It could be a message FROM Sarah Marshall, telling someone else that they suck. As in:

You suck!

--Sarah Marshall

But that doesn't seem likely because we don't have the punctuation to back it up.

2) Someone could be telling Sarah Marshall that she sucks:

You suck, Sarah Marshall!

But there is no vocative comma, so it can't mean that, can it?

3) Someone could be making an observation about someone else actually sucking Sarah Marshall. Maybe 'Sarah Marshal' is a new variety of frozen treat akin to the popsicle:

You suck Sarah Marshall.

Perhaps the billboard should include an accompanying sentence to clarify:

You suck Sarah Marshall; isn't she delicious?

Or not.

Obviously the ad wizards meant the second one, but how the hell are we supposed to get that from what is written?

Vocative commas, people (<-- look there's one right there!). They're cheap and they convey meaning. Gah.

You can categorize this post as nerd wankage, and sure, that's exactly what it is, but don't you agree there should be someone who fights for the freaking commas??? Grrr.

/rant

Here's a funny anecdote I heard in Latin class. Apparently Sanskrit has something like fourteen cases (more than double that of Latin). It must have been grammatical chaos to ask for anything. My Latin teacher in college told us that the worst insult one could hurl at a speaker of Sanskrit was to call him "an incompetent grammarian." Gee, you think?

If I met the marketing crew that put together the Sarah Marshall campaign, I'd call them incompetent grammarians, but I doubt they'd let it bother them too much. Jerks.

~Hero

The Pleasure and the Privilege

2008-03-21T20:28:00.000-07:00

I have no time for pleasure reading lately. It's a tragedy because I have a stack of awesome books to read. I have a book by Asimov from Dad. Immortality from Kevin. Geek Love from Cael. And like a moron, I just bought Sideways and Little Children from Barnes and Noble dot com. I opened up Little Children just to see if the opening sentence was similar to the opening voiceover of the movie, and suddenly I'm 50 pages into it. Ye gods, it's good. Tom Perrotta is a genius. Sometimes I read books and I can't believe how good the prose is. Hell, I read the fiction of friends in my OWC and their prose freaking blows me away.

When I read books like Little Children (Rick Moody's The Ice Storm or Nick Hornby's A Long Way Down), I think, I can do that. Know why? Because they make it look so easy. They make it look So. Damn. Easy. Now, I don't know if I can do it, or if I'm fooling myself, or what, but I suppose I'm gonna keep trying until the well of ideas runs dry.

Sometimes I wonder about my day job and how long I will spend being "Doc G" for my students. Maybe I'll be Doc G for the next few years and then I'll transition into writing full time. But who knows? I really do like being Doc G. A lot of my students are ridiculously wonderful people who enrich my life with their personalities, their music, and their own journey of self-discovery. I wonder what I will do if I ever decide to cut off that supply of fresh, new faces every semester just so I can have enough time to sit home alone and try like mad to craft that beautiful prose I admire so much.

But teaching would be really hard to give up. Sometimes, a student will finally understand a theoretical concept that had been giving him trouble, and you can practically see the light go on. Or a student will break through the fear that's been holding her back, and for the first time, she can sing without self-consciousness. And it may not the best singing in the world, but it's the most beautiful sound there is. That freedom.

Just being there for those moments, seeing those breakthroughs happen, it's what teaching is all about.

And to be part of that, in ways big and small--maybe being the first person who told a student that mistakes are okay, or spending hours outside of class trying to figuring out a new way to clarify things--is not just a pleasure, it's a privilege. I mean, damn. It's a freaking honor to do those things, and to get to do those things every day. I'm not saying they happen every day, because they don't, but they happen enough to make it worthwhile, even from a purely selfish point of view.

So, yes, I want to be a writer. And, yes, I already am a writer. But I am also a teacher. I don't really know how to reconcile those things right this minute, but the point is I don't have to. I've lived my life riding the waves of this big fantastic river, paddling at some times and just going with the flow at others, so I'm pretty sure that eventually, I'll find the way I'm supposed to go. For right now, I think I'll let the river carry me for a while, and I'll do my best to enjoy the ride.

And if going with the flow right now means nudging students to find their voice by day, and trying to craft seemingly effortless prose by night, then so be it. So be it.

~Hero

Random fun on two legs

2008-03-18T15:44:00.000-07:00

It has been a rough week-and-some since last I wrote. Deadlines tried to kill me, but I managed to survive. I had to write some emergency notes for one of my jobs over the last week. I cranked out the first set in a day, and it was fine. Then, on Sunday, I wrote nearly 400 words of fine information in about an hour. The notes were a little generic, but it got the job done. We missed the printing deadline anyway, so I now have the very great honor of making it less generic. Did I mention the piece I'm writing about isn't done yet? Yeah. That makes it easier.

I also handed in an almost-final draft of a paper about the score to Back to the Future. Even though I knew about this deadline since January, I hadn't had any time to work on it. So I wrote solidly from Tuesday until Friday night. Got about 5500 words done. I've heard nothing back from the editor, but I think that the paper is not a travesty, at least. I know, ringing endorsement. That's what the Nobel committee says when they're choosing a winner of the Lit Prize every year. "Well, this book should win because it's not a travesty." *sigh*

In other news, John Williams is coming to my school for a special concert. Yep. That Johnny Williams. The guy whose score to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom pretty much sealed my fate as a musician forever? The guy who spoke at my graduation from USC, signed my Harry Potter CD, and congratulated ME on my doctorate? The guy who was so gracious and kind and humble that meeting him actually made me collapse from overwhelm-ing-ness? That guy. He's coming to LACC as a guest. We're doing a Q&A with him, and then putting on a concert of his works and the works of some of our young composers here. In the concert, the chamber choir is singing "Double Trouble" from Prisoner of Azkaban, and I AM SINGING WITH THEM! Isn't it weird how life works? Years ago, I never thought I'd even meet the guy, but now I'm seeing him for the THIRD time (and introducing the Q&A), singing FOR him (Harry Freaking Potter, no less), and then having dinner with the guy afterwards. I suppose that means there's still some chance for other dreams I have.

In that last paragraph, I totally meant to complain about all the extra work the JW concert thing is causing us, but I got carried away. Suffice it to say, it's a lot of extra work, but it's going to be so worth it if it all works out.

So yeah, my dreams. There was a time back in the day when I really wanted to be an actor. Back before I realized I'd never play a leading lady. Back before I realized that I was destined to be the wacky neighbor for all eternity. Funny then, to make it all the way to Hollywood years later, but to come here as a damn musicologist and all around nerdlinger. I still think that somewhere down the line, I might go back to acting in some form or another. I'd be happy as the wacky neighbor now, I think. But here's the thing, I don't want to do the Hollywood actor thing. I want people I know to put me in their films. I don't want to go through the pain and suffering of auditioning. To paraphrase the older guy in an action movie: "I'm getting too old for that shit."

Maybe I'll take a step in that direction by taking those voice over lessons I've been putting off for years. If money and time are in abundance this summer, it'll happen We shall see. Right now, I feel pretty confident that dreams do come true, and if that's the case, I'm just going to keep wanting things.

~Hero

Writer's...Something

2008-03-08T23:55:00.000-08:00

I got an email on Thursday (I think) from the my contact, Kelly, over at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. They need some notes lickety split, and she wanted to know if I could do them. I'm a tad swamped, but I don't usually say no to work, so I said sure. I need to write notes for two pieces. One of them is a five-minute work that was inspired by 9/11. Thanks to the interwebs, I had a chance to hear the piece, and I got some information and even some good quotes from the composer. The notes should be somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 words. Sounds simple, right? Sure. I should be able to do this standing on my head, but for some reason, I just can't get my brain to spit out the words in the right order. I wouldn't call it writer's block, but hell, if I could think of a clever name for what I'm dealing with right now, I'd probably be able to dash these notes off in a second. *sigh* *needs sleep*

Last night, J and I went out to dinner with some friends, one of whom we haven't seen in months. She lives in London, and was in town to give a paper at a conference. Anyhoo, after dinner, a few of us walked down to Starbucks and hung out. We were there for three hours, and in that time, I saw a number of folks sitting at tables, typing away on their laptops. Even though I was having an awesome time with my friends, I have to admit that I was a bit envious of these folks. Right now, a few hours typing in Starbucks (and not typing program notes or proposals or articles) sounds better than a beach vacation. Spring Break is coming up, and I keep telling myself just to hang on a bit until then, and then I'll take myself to Starbucks, fire up the new laptop and just type away until they run out of Tazo Refresh tea. Sounds better than Daytona or Cancun at this point.

Also, the revision of my novel is coming along slowly; I did some good work on it this week during a few stolen moments. (Thank you, Google Docs for being so awesome.) I was all ready to send two chapters to my sister, but I was reading the new stuff over and I realized I'd given the brother knowledge of something he's not supposed to know about yet. So now I have to go back and figure out whether I want him to know this thing at the beginning of chapter 9 (and if so, I have to work in the heart-breaking conversation in chapter 8 somewhere), or I have to delete that part of the new stuff and figure out if his motivation stays the same or if it has to change. *facepalm*

All right, I should get back to writing my notes. In conclusion, I will end with a list of things that are currently making me happy (in no particular order):

1. My fiancee
2. Oreo Cakesters (sugar=crack)
3. Torchwood
4. On Demand (so I can watch Torchwood)
5. yellow legal pads
6. Google Docs (if I weren't already engaged, I'd marry it)
7. wearing a thermal shirt under a t-shirt
8. beer
9. my godson
10. text messages

In the mood to revise

2008-02-27T15:04:00.001-08:00

On the heels of my latest rejections, I've been thinking a lot about my book. It's called Notches, in case I never mentioned it. It's a dilly of a pickle of a book. I'm going to imagine that it will be a hard sell for any publisher because it's as graphic as the day is long, and contains many things that make people feel squicky, like teenage sex, drinking, and drug use. Meh. I think the thing that also has agents running for the hills is the non-traditional structure of the story. But this is something that I'm rethinking right now.

In the original version, Natasha gets knocked down a few pegs, and her life definitely changes, but things stay mostly on an even keel. But after really thinking about it, I think that Tash needs to lose everything. You know, in the way that protags lose everything: i.e. friends stop talking to them, jobs are lost, they are utterly alone in the universe, etc. And while I don't think Tash is going to lose her job at the ice cream shop (unless...), I think she's definitely going to have to lose her support system for a bit.

I've figured out the cataclysmic event that sets the rest of it in motion, it's just...I'm going to end up rewriting the final third of the book.

I don't know if you've ever written a novel while holding down a full time job and a couple of part time ones, but it's difficult to find the kind of blocks of time you need to get back into the characters.

*sigh*

I don't know when I'm going to do it, especially because I have other writing projects on my mind right now. I have the other YA book I'm writing (needs chapter 5 and beyond), I have the adult novel (for which I have come up with a kickass first sentence), not to mention the OWC stuff (I'd give that up, but it's like eating candy and I ain't giving up candy). So, I'm a tad screwed.

This April, I will have been trying to get an agent for a solid year. M'not discouraged, though. No siree Bob. If anything, I'm more fired up than ever.

I'm also very sleepy.

*headdesk*

~Hero

Still Thinking

2008-02-26T16:00:00.000-08:00

You know, the very best films are the ones that you keep thinking about long after you're done watching them. The first movie that really followed me around for days, got under my skin, was The Ice Storm. It's an Ang Lee film based on a fabulous book by Rick Moody. There was just something about that movie (and book) that keep my mind running for at least a week afterwards. Great score by Mychael Danna too. Anyhoo, I feel like Juno fits into this category of 'movie that gets under your skin.' And I had a really interesting conversation with my friend P over the weekend that actually made me reconsider my initial thoughts about the film.

So yeah, spoilers, ho!

P seemed to think that Bleeker's character was more a symbol than anything else. A symbol in almost a mythological way. You know, how the chicks in mythology are sort of idealized, but you don't get to know them that well. And you're thinking, what's so great about Penelope or Helen of Troy or whoever? Why bother coming back after so damn long? I'll tell you why, because those characters are symbols. You don't really need to see them being totally Supercool and awesome because they don't need to prove anything to you, thank you very much. I think this is a fascinating insight and I thank P for explaining it to me. Keep in mind, however, that I still disagree and think that Paulie should have been drawn more sharply, but that's my own humble opinion.

Also, congrats to Diablo Cody on her Oscar win, and Kudos to the tattoo artist who did the pinup girl on her shoulder. Hott.

A writer's perspective on Juno

2008-02-22T13:27:00.000-08:00

Last week, J and I went to see Juno. This is a charming, delightful film that has gotten itself nominated for a bunch of things, including Academy Awards. And while I loved the film and would see it a dozen more times, I had a writerly (that's what J called it) problem with it.

Don't read any further if you haven't seen Juno and you really want to.

Because there are spoilers here.

Yes, that's right, spoilers.

Below here.

So stop reading.

You know, if you don't plan to see the movie.

Everyone okay? Good.

Juno is brilliantly acted and had some of the funniest dialogue since Superbad. Michael Cera, a Superbad alumnus, plays Paulie Bleeker, father of Juno's baby. He is an amazing actor and a superfunny one at that, but he wasn't in as much of the movie as I thought, and I was a bit disappointed by that. It turns out that his relative absence was not just a personal issue, I thought it really hurt the dramatic arc of the movie. The whole point is that Juno becomes disillusioned by stuff I won't go into here, and has an argument with Paulie so they're on the outs.

Rapidly losing faith in humanity and love, she has a heart-to-heart talk with her Dad--a staple of any girl coming-of-age film--wherein she asks him can love survive in this crazy-ass world. After the talk, Juno comes to realize that she loves Paulie. It's her big epiphany.

Problem is, Paulie hasn't been in the dramatic action all that much so we're left wondering why she loves him. I know, his distance is part of the point; Juno keeps him at an arm's length throughout the pregnancy. This is her journey alone. I get that. But then give me something to base this love on. A handful of scenes doesn't really do it for me. Give me a flashback, a memory, some more pictures, something else. Just because the best friend states Juno loves Paulie during a conversation early in the movie, it doesn't mean I believe it or her.

This is a topic that has come up among the members of my online writing circle (OWC). The idea that you can write a story in which two people declare love for each other at the end must have a build-up to show where the love comes from. Don't just let me assume that they're soul mates. Show me that they are.

I dunno. Maybe I just like Michael Cera a lot.

I don't want to take away from Diablo Cody's achievement either, which is pretty monumental. Hell, I'd like to be the next DC (but with novels, not scripts), but as a writer, I thought I needed to say something about it. Because, as a writer, I feel like I need to say SOMETHING all the damn time.

~Hero

In the thick of it

2008-02-19T11:37:00.000-08:00

I'm trying this again, lads and lasses. My first attempt at legitimate blogging did not last for long, so here I go, here I go, here I go....*sings* here I go. Again. Yeah. So. ANY-way.

I should mention that since I started my first blog over here (the one that went the way of the Tippett*), I have actually begun a professional writing mini-career. I now have gigs writing program notes for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra and the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. I've also become quite adept at writing promotional blurbs, and I've been hired to blurb (it's a verb now, don't you know) for the SPCO and the San Francisco Symphony. I still have my blog over at the LACO website so that keeps me off the streets...sometimes. So yeah, I have a decent sideline writing musical stuff.

What I really want to do is direct. Not really. What I really want to do is write fiction and I've been writing it, but I haven't really found anyone to read it (except for my charming, beautiful, fun, smart friends who have, of course, been the best support system a gal could want). In fact, my first novel has now been rejected by about a dozen agents. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The book is a hard sell: graphic sex and drug use and it all takes place in high school. Hmm. The bright side is that some agents have actually read the thing (or so they say), so I'm glad at least that it's not hidden under the bed. It's out there, scary as that may be. And mixed in with all the rejection, there have been some lovely compliments:

"I'm deeply impressed and would invite you to submit more writing."

"You have great range in your writing."

"I found the concept to be an interesting twist on the traditional teen drama, and the narrative voice was convincing."

Of course, the lovely compliments are followed by "but" or "however." Nevertheless, I am undaunted. I am four chapters into another novel which is less of a hard sell, but at least one agent who has seen it thinks it might be too much like other stuff out there.

I think this is probably like what screenwriters go through: you have to write a movie that's enough like other successful films in order to get the green light, but it has to be unique enough to be its own thing. Maybe I went too far for the first book and not far enough on the second.

I'm in the process of revising the first book for one agent who was very encouraging. I'm trying to make the story arc a bit more traditional. We shall see. It's taking me forever to do because in addition to my mini-career as a writer, I have a maxi-career as a college professor. I'm busy, you see. But that's fine. It's what I want. I'd rather be stretched thin and working like crazy than be worried about where next month's rent is coming from. I have this pipe dream about being so successful as a writer that I get to quit my day job and do nothing but write eight hours a day, but I know that its rather unlikely. A girl can dream, can't she?

~Hero

*"Way of the Tippett" is a phrase my sister and I developed. It refers to Phil Tippett, a special effects guy whose stop-motion animation process--Go-motion!--was subsumed in the 80s by other, more efficient methods of animation. When something dies out unceremoniously, it goes the way of the Tippett. My apologies to Phil, who I've met and who is a peach. He's doing quite well in the special effects world, so don't you worry about Mr. Tippett.