[written January 11, 2011]
There is a philosophy, in a sense, that every city has a personality, if not is one. Sometimes this personality is clear-cut, sometimes it consists of many other personalities. But like any personality, the ability to appreciate it is also an adaptation. In my undergraduate years in Gainesville, Florida, I was introduced firsthand to the concept of making the best of what is given to you; in Miami for graduate school, I failed to settle with her stormy, self-centered mentality.
I made no secret of my distaste for the city and its surrounding cities (one of which I grew up in) that so many millions love and travel to experience. For me, there was nothing to experience but a literally stifling environment (thanks in a large part to the hot humid mugginess), insolent and significantly rude people, crowded streets and airports, a struggling cultural scene, and the sprawling, un-maintained roads on which there is justifiably infamous traffic which makes getting anywhere difficult and stressful. Nothing in my schedule allowed for relaxation on the beach, in clubs, or leisurely shopping or sports. And there’s a language barrier too: Earlier this morning, standing in line for the security check at MIA, no one was speaking a word of English; now, sitting at the gate for my flight to Chicago, everyone is speaking English (aside from the French couple seated beside me.)
Yet, as I nibble on a real ham croqueta and sip a cortadito, it dawns that there are priceless elements about Miami and South Florida that can’t be experienced elsewhere. For one, the aforementioned food and its companions presented in their ubiquitous and strangely comforting greasy white bags is certainly unique if only because of its proliferation. Then there’s also the gorgeous (if private) Spanish colonial structures of Coral Gables, the beautiful Arsht Center for the Performing Arts in which many an epic event occurs for those that can afford it, the New World Symphony, Pollo Tropical (Seriously.), Vizcaya, any type of caffienated drink originating from Cuba, Lincoln Road, and most importantly (for me, at least) the courageous musicians who believe and are the reason the musical culture of the Florida IS rising gradually and with promise. In some ways, Miami is also a city of hope.
And while this place has never felt like home for me despite growing up and living here all these years, it is a home and a dream for many. They have found their something comforting in the city which so eluded me. So now I go to be closer to the city of my own dream. Though only here, for me, is a spinach empanada waiting.
February 09 2011 | musings and travels | No Comments »
for the mood: unusual nostalgia - realizing it’s just as good as you had once thought. You may or may not be happy it is this way. This all may or may not be surprising.
tracks: (all files uploaded onto zshare.net. Music is rightful property of the artists. I don’t own any of these…Please buy their music and support them)
+ [Edge of Life] – fra-foa
- Mikami Chisako’s performance in this song has always been impressive. Sorry the song quality is so low though. In some listens, all I hear is GUITAR (which is nice when you’re doing homework…)
+ [Shiki] – w-inds
- Oh hush up. This was the stuff that was tailor-made to make sixteen-year-old girls feel better (and keep them listening to [Arashi] in their twenties…)
+ [Oh Yeah] – The Subways
- pure fun.
December 11 2010 | music | No Comments »
Remember who you are. Hold on tight.
There is no fairy tale.
November 21 2010 | waffle | No Comments »
Between targeted ads, Facebook stalking every action in order to target, and now the discovery that beloved Google’s glitches may be directly responsible for many of the stresses in my world, the hermit profession I predicted for myself back in grade school is more appealing every day. And I hope the damage already done is not irreparable.
As a little topper to my Internet qualms, I have been receiving some very strange, if not amusing, spam in my inbox lately. First there was one allegedly sent from [Captain William Adama], and then another from a man who shared the same name as a friend’s dad (My friend confirmed that his dad was in no way involved with selling “enhancements.”) The most recent one of interest opened with this tidbit: “dear miss, I hope I am offending you by writing this…”
“Samira Cole”, your sentiment and honesty are well appreciated.
November 16 2010 | musings and semi-facts | No Comments »
The performance librarian profession is a tricky little animal. There is no formal degree and only two orchestras in the United States which have specifically designed library fellowship positions. Therefore, those who actively seek work in the profession have very limited educational options. Earlier this month, I traveled to three major U.S. cities in hopes of educating and networking with those who are already well established in this field. Hundreds of photos, thousands of minutes, eight pages of handwritten notes, twenty handouts, two new pairs of shoes, one coat, living on two streets named “Pine” in two different cities and one two-page booklist later, I daresay it has at least been an eventful time (And yes, I learned TONS.) Alongside meeting professionals, I was able to see and spend time with close friends again. The icing on the cake is when each friend lives in an incredible city, each with a major orchestra.
The current state I live in is a purported hellhole for the classical music business. Culture is decidedly dead. To balance my unbelievable happiness of traveling and learning was my intense jealousy for my hosts. Every one of them was surrounded by an incredible multitude of culture, if not actively involved in it. In between the various masterclasses, lessons, workshops and meetings, there was a little tour of the United States to be found. The United States can really be a pretty amazing place sometimes.
The first stop was St. Louis, where the symphony orchestra is so beloved by its audience that only a musician with a heart of steel could be immune to the joy from the SLSO audience. David Robertson’s radiant energy simply illuminates the stage, the orchestra, the music, and the audience. The orchestra and its audience is nothing short of a community. I would also like to take this opportunity to declare that the SLSO French Horn section is absurdly perfect. In later days, my feet nearly fell off from walking through Forest Park, stopping in the History Museum and most of the zoo. The zoo is fabulous – especially the penguin exhibit where an Emperor penguin splashed me, dooming me to smell of fish for the remainder of my afternoon visit.
Next was Chicago, a city I have always loved, with the main agenda of attending the [MOLA] workshop at Northwestern University. But there were so many libraries to visit! And I only got through two of them. At the Newberry Library, the librarian who was graciously showing me around smiled at my frustrations and pretty much confirmed that so far as cultural cities went, Chicago was a pretty hard one to beat. She could have been smug about this, but she was instead genuinely proud. I would have envied her if she hadn’t been so nice.
That same night, I watched the Lyric Opera of Chicago perform Bizet’s Carmen from the very last row of the gorgeous opera house. Even from that treacherous spot, there was no question regarding the level of skill at which the musicians performed. Don Jose’s “Flower Aria” was particularly beautiful, and its resulting ovation stopped the opera for a good 30 seconds. Only a few days earlier, I had heard the Chicago Symphony Orchestra breeze through Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3. My St. Louis hostess declared that Chicago culture was spoiling me (I had also gone to the Art Institue the day before – after having met the luthier who crafted my beloved violin – but only managed to view about 20% of the entire museum. Also, leaves in Millennium Park were changing color and causing me conflicting emotions.)
Then it was off to Philadelphia. My host there lived in the Historic District, if that gives you any idea how lucky HE was: literally five doors down (or so) from a beautiful plaza with restaurants, coffee shops, stores, a historic firehouse, three blocks from the riverside, and surrounded pretty much on all sides by historic churches and cemeteries. Half a mile would get you to Washington Square; another half mile or so got you to City Hall and the Masonic Temple. The Kimmel Center (where Brahms and the Philadelphia Orchestra made sweet sweet love to our ears) was also within walking distance. We had walked back after the concert, through Center City, with my host pointing out significant places nearly every second. Every person and place was interesting. I had sorely missed having conversations like the ones that took place in Philadelphia.
My main motivation in visiting this city was to take a class with the former Head Librarian of the Philadelphia Orchestra and perhaps the one guy who is a viable “celebrity” for performance librarians. He also suggested a visit to the [Fleisher Collection] at the Free Library of Philadelphia, a true hidden treasure of the musical world. With approximately 250,000 scores in the collection, there is all too much to discover between those shelves (including a former colleague from undergrad who now works there!) The afternoon was effectively killed walking back in the direction of the apartment, thus taking me through the central park that lead to City Hall, the Masonic Temple, and all the lovely in between. My host and I visited the gardens behind the Art Museum later that night after an unsuccessful attempt to locate an art installation of interactive lights along the Schuylkill River. The architecture and weather everywhere was gorgeous.
My brain struggled to process the thought of leaving, of not having anything to experience and absorb. It was painful.
After having my luggage lost on my return flight home, then experiencing on the first venture out after my return both a group of octogenarians in a medical waiting room unanimously gripe about how “terrible” this state is added to the lack of Kick-Ass 2 in my local bookstore on its release date, I’m pretty sure it was a terrible decision to get off the road. But coming back just in time for my parents’ 30th anniversary certainly lessened the blow.
October 30 2010 | music and travels | 1 Comment »
A little downtime, a little reflection, but passionately desiring almost anything but. The seismograph needle suffers my schizophrenia. Back in a few somethings. Wish we were still walking streets in the Autumn chill, your hand over mine. And the city lights play back our soundtrack of laughter.
for the mood: the turbulent calm
tracks: (all files uploaded onto zshare.net. Music is rightful property of the artists. I don’t own any of these…Please buy their music and support them)
+ [Butterfly] – Yoko Kanno ft. M (Cowboy Bebop)
+ [Between the Bars] – Madeleine Peyroux
+ [Little Person] – Jon Brion ft. Deanne Storey (Synecdoche, New York)
October 24 2010 | music and travels and waffle | No Comments »
Happy 101th post! And very very belated birthday to pocket universe.
The reading page has been quite active lately. There is any number of reasons why there is a sudden upsurge in my page-consumption, but that is not the topic of this post. The topic is that I am becoming suspicious of my reading pattern.
Bear in mind – these books are all fiction only because upon returning from Aspen and re-settling, discovered all these books in my ownership still unread. Thus a pre-requisite was established.
The current book “on my floor” is I am Charlotte Simmons (Tom Wolfe), a tale of a small-town girl who exceeds her stereotypical small-town expectations to attend a very large, athletics-focused university but struggles to exceed her own limited mindset. She suffers and veers but ultimately finds what is presumed to be a redemption.
I have never encountered a book so infatuated by its own pretentiousness, stereotypes, and enjoyment of abusing its unbelievable heroine (Even only halfway through the book and no other writings of his in my repertoire, there’s actually no question that Tom Wolfe lacks capacity to write realistic women.) Bret Easton Ellis’s chronicles on similar themes are anorexic next to Wolfe’s bloated writing. Or maybe his accounts of the “shocking issues” on a university campus are unimpressive because what he details is essentially the lifestyle the majority of higher-education attendees experience – or at least are aware of – at some point in their years at respective institutions. And everyone knows that. But it’s also quite difficult for me to imagine that a small-minded but supposedly extraordinarily bright girl in a big university also lacks adaptability skills and self-sufficiency in a place that undoubtedly offered options.
Man, I lived under a rock- also known as the watchful eye of an Asian upbringing- for most of my life before college, but that doesn’t mean I became the rock either.
Maybe not incidentally, one of the universities Wolfe observed during the course of writing this novel was my alma mater. The book was given to me by a friend at the time as we attended said university together, which is the only thing keeping me plowing through (though it took me somewhere around five years to pick it up again after the first try.) This friend no doubt identified with much of the novel, but my place was in a different circle of the university planet and one that- detailed as Wolfe would like to think he is being- is completely overlooked in the novel. Therefore, I digress and totally rant off topic many years later when I’m attempting to concrete a post.
Anyways, prior to this high blood-pressure implement, I had steamrolled through The Song is You (Arthur Phillips), Solar (Ian McEwan), The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (Michael Chabon), Pattern Recognition (William Gibson), Zorro (Isabel Allende), and About a Boy (Nick Hornby) over the course of four weeks. All were decent reads- especially the Chabon, which had some truly beautiful, almost breathtaking writing and moments, though his prose has fair competition in the elegant stylings of Arthur Phillips.
Yet, there is a trail of themes between many of the books (which did detour for a bit even through those put aside for another time: After the Chabon, The Unbearable Lightness of Being was placed aside after only a few pages because I didn’t feel it would be healthy to read two Hitler-effected character narratives in a row. You Only Live Twice- yes, the 007 novel- was also stopped because it seemed such a silly caricature when presented in the footsteps of Allende’s loving portrait of Zorro- another iconic action hero.) If we water down the subjects, a strange path can be drawn them books that looks something like “story of a man of shady yet tragic motivations –> story of a man of shady and irredeemable motivations –> motivated boys create action heroes but unexpectedly become men during the process –> girl unexpectedly becomes action heroine –> origin story of an action hero who never really grows up –> dim grownup man guides boy to being a boy while boy guides dim grownup man to being a grownup –> tragically dim girl thinks she is growing up by interacting with men, every last one of them possessing shady and irredeemable motivations.”
Based on this current stream, what on earth will pop up on my bookshelf next?
“Dim, tragic girl unexpectedly becomes action heroine. Fights a man with shady and irredeemable motivations: Hitler.”?
Name the book.
September 22 2010 | waffle and words | No Comments »
In Classical Music, there is a curious phenomenon that sometimes happens: a beautiful piece of music will have been written by a well-known composer, but it is rather overshadowed by his/her other great works. Because of this, there tend to be less recordings of these pieces by the greater ensembles on the planet.
Johannes Brahms is a composer whose works I have always had a tumultuous relationship with. The Piano Quintet in f minor has been one of my favourite compositions since grade school, but his orchestral works, often performed in youth orchestra phase, were less appealing. Their textures and emotions were too thick, and the neverending syncopations were – for lack of a better word – annoying. In my junior year of college, I studied his Piano Quartet in c minor, but it took a few years for me to truly appreciate the beauty of the work. I still did not care for any of his symphonic pieces. As Schubert was for [Nodame], Brahms was just very difficult for me to communicate with.
Lately, though, that has started to change a little. Maybe it’s experience, maturity, or simply sophistication. For my final graduate recital, I performed three of his Hungarian Dances and was required to research them extensively for a paper. During this time, Brahms’s complicated character and motivations became clearer to me, and perhaps as a result, I’m more forgiving to his music. Any man that likes Beethoven as much as he can’t be all that terrible.
At Aspen, I met the Serenade No. 1 in D Major for the first time, and it solidified my appreciation for Brahms. However, because the library was working so much during the time period when it was performed, my impression was created through the tiny snippets that made it through the door. A revisit was finally accomplished tonight, but due to the lack of a decent recording to stream online, I am not sure I still have a full grasp of the piece.
The first movement contains all these Beethoven flourishes mixed with the typical Brahms harmonic progressions that makes it horrendously tough to tune, apparently, since no recording was in tune (especially the oboe solo that permeates the entire movement.) The Adagio has these unexpectedly wonderful key changes without which the entire work may have been unimaginative. Any conductor who ignores these gems deserves to be kicked off his podium. And then the fifth movement Scherzo Trio is absolutely fun to listen to (and I’m sure to perform.) The rest of the movement again calls back to Beethoven (Edward Downes would argue me that the work leans more to Haydn and Mozart, which I don’t necessarily disagree with, but my mind nerdily attaches to Beethoven first.) and features some fabulous counterpoint. The woodwind solos and ensembles throughout the entire work are somehow heartfelt as opposed to splashy or soloistic – but God help the musicians when it’s out of tune. All the movements are susceptible to becoming overly heavy-handed and plodding if performed without the correct momentum from both the podium or orchestra.
…Brahms is difficult!
This October, I will (hopefully) hear a program of the Symphony No. 2 and 4 by the Philadephia Orchestra. Honestly- and not to criticize as the artistic direction probably had some musical point in programming it that way- the Serenade No. 1, or its more well-known companion Serenade No. 2, would make a better companion to one of the symphonies. The Serenade No. 1 is an inoffensive and well-composed cousin to the symphonies, but equally demanding to perform and present to do all those the intricacies justice. Why don’t orchestras perform this one more often? Meanwhile, the symphonies are growing on me, if only movement by movement (Movement III of Symphony No. 2 is a particular favorite, but the part that makes me happiest is a few measures in the opening of the fourth movement that incidentally relies on a bit of syncopation.)
That all being said, if anyone knows of a fabulous recording of the Serenade No. 1 or the Samuel Barber Sonata for Cello and Piano, please let me know. I would love to hear these compositions in their full glory.
September 15 2010 | music and musings and travels | No Comments »
Even though summer is pretty much over, I’m just getting my super super tiny [summer project] out. This was originally intended to help cover costs when traveling to Aspen (for a Summer Festival, as the title translates to), but now that that’s all ended, it’s kind of to help cover costs of my upcoming trip around the States to learn either violin or librarianship from people of varying levels of fame.
Or just for people to enjoy. I hope you will take a [listen] and enjoy.
The project was recorded over the course of a few days back in May and took forever to completely master mostly because of time differences and, well, life. It features other members of [Select Start], but please note it’s not another Select Start album because not all the members of the band are performing.
September 14 2010 | games and music and travels | No Comments »
Not too very long ago, a foodie friend made the remark that “No one should ever pay for a ceasar salad.” I did not disagree. There is some sort of inexplicable reputation with the ceasar salad that gives the customer a rather unoriginal and sad reputation for having desired it.
That is, until today, when a waitress at [Main Street Bakery] recommended the ceasar salad complement to my entree. It was quite a caesar salad. It wasn’t gussied up with fancy oils or condiments or anything like that. In fact, it was fairly plain. Something was just done right.
Main Street often does food in stranger ways, though. Their gazpacho creation, for instance, was a constant topic of debate in our library department earlier this season. So if when the fast-vegetable craving strikes me as it always inevitably eventually does, I will be returning to the cafe and wondering intensely if they can make it even more exciting.
August 25 2010 | food and travels | No Comments »
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