Phew.
Okay, 24 Christmases down. You may have noticed that I haven't written for a while, and I can't say as I have a good excuse. I mean, it does seem silly that, being in Boston for the holidays, I should write on a site dedicated to my Houston adventures. On top of that, I have been in the annual "What Now?" kind of mood that begins around Christmas, peaks at New Year's, and then usually fades quickly afterwards. During this time I assess my life as I see it, peruse mistakes and successes of the past year, decide where I want to go from here, and, of course, practice little if at all. Think of it as a little Spring Cleaning for the Soul, only it happens in December and usually things end up just as messy as they were before. Okay, maybe Spring Cleaning is not the right metaphor.
Well, I've said that much, so I might as well get into it a little. Is there a point to my being in Grad School? It feels right, because it's what I want to do. But the chances of succeeding at it seem so slim. I could probably make a much better living doing something else, practically anything else. What I'm asking myself right now is: at what point, if ever, will I realize that I will not be a success playing the trombone, and go into something else instead? It won't be soon, of course, because I will at least finish school. It's not costing me anything but time. But when I graduate, and I'm working full time in some office somewhere to support myself while practicing and taking the occasional audition, how long will I last? It's difficult to think about now because it's not a decision I will have to make for a while, but I really would like to know what I will decide.
Kurt Vonnegut wrote: "If you really want to hurt your parents, and you don't have nerve enough to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts."
Okay, that's enough for now. If you want to read more, look for my series of books coming out soon: Spring Cleaning for the Soul.
Oh, by the way, speaking of Christmas, I'm a star again! Check out this video, courtesy of thepetersonproject.com.
And, last thing, I've been reading this book by The Sports Guy, Bill Simmons, about the Red Sox. If you're a Sox fan and you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. My favorite quote so far: "By the way, I have to question any Red Sox fan who would marry a Yankee fan. Unless you have never been laid before and this is legitimately your only chance to have regular sex, it's simply unacceptable. Would you marry someone from Al-Qaeda?" Now that's quality sportswriting, people.
Until next year!
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
On BBQ and Tomatoes (sort of)
So today I had the pleasure of listening to 26 high school trombonists from around Texas audition for their region band! Before I tell you about the experience, though, I should provide a disclaimer that should explain why I would never wish this fate upon anyone, no matter how much I disliked them for other reasons, who was not deeply invested in the trombone and the teaching thereof. In Texas, if you are part of your high school's band, you must take private lessons (which are not paid for by the school; how does that work? It's still unclear to me), and you must audition for region band. So I was expecting a huge audition, with lots of students, and therefore lots of judges.
But nothing could quite prepare me for what a fiasco it really was. There were five judges in each room, and a total of 38 rooms, 3 for tenor trombone alone, which means a total of (carry the 1) 190 judges. Assuming there were approximately 25 kids in each room, you would get close to 1,000 kids running around. I don't know how many buses that would be. The guy in charge (wait, no, I mean "in charge") said that other regions had changed the way they did these auditions, having a first audition at each school before the kids got this far, which sounded like a great idea to me. But he then went on to say, with some pride, I might add, that they had stuck to their system, which was working just fine for them, thank you very much. I really wanted to raise my hand at this point and move that this guy, whoever he was, be sacked and replaced by someone with some god damn sense, because This. Could. All. Be. So. Much. Easier.
And why, while we're on the subject, did each room need five judges? When I auditioned for the similar bands in Massachusetts, there was one judge. There was no screen. You walked in and looked your future in the eye. That judge then gave you a series of scores, usually from 1 to 8 or 1 to 10, depending on the level, each one for a certain aspect of your playing, such as tone quality, articulation, intonation, or rhythm. This system worked fairly well. But no, the Texas system is quite different. More on that later.
Here are some highlights, good and bad, from the experience:
-They fed us barbecue! When we got into the room where we were supposed to meet and nobody seemed to have any idea what was going on because not everyone was there yet, soon we began to see people coming into the room with food. So we went and stood on line for food, which was delicious home cooked barbecue. Usually in these situations I am more grateful for the food than for the payment I receive, and this was no exception.
-When we got into our room, the head judge read out the rules, then called the first few kids up to the "ready" chairs, I guess so that they could get ready to play. In a different chair, I, I guess. Then he said "you have one minute to warm up," after which followed the unmistakeable sound of 26 high school trombonists warming up simultaneously.
If hell only had a soundtrack.
-The sheet which told us how to keep score was completely indecipherable and infuriating, which are not good qualities for something that is passing itself off as "instructions." On it, I was told many things, most of which I did not understand and therefore ignored. I managed to figure out that I was supposed to listen to a major scale, then give it a score. Okay, I can do that. Wait. A score...from 0 to 25? Why such a large range? It's one major scale. Okay, well I guess I'll just go in multiples of five, can't be too hard. Then, next, I listen an excerpt from the first etude, and give that a score as well. A score from 0 to...75? No, that can't be right. "Your combined score will then be out of 100." Fuck, they really do mean 75. So I'm supposed to hear 30 seconds of trombone playing, and then pick a number, any number, between 0 and 75? Wait, it gets better. This pattern repeats three times: scale, etude, scale, etude, scale, etude, and the total score is out of 300. 300! No wonder they told us to bring a calculator, which I of course did not, confident in my ability to add numbers from 0 to 10 in my head.
Anyway, this complete pigfuck of a system had the following result in my scores: The student who very obviously (to me) should have placed first did place first (on my sheet). The students who placed second and third also played quite well and got the placement they should have (again, on my sheet). After that, the placements that I had in the end seemed even to me to be a little bit random. I couldn't really remember after the first three who had played better than whom, so the rest of them could have come in any order whatsoever. This wouldn't bother me so much, but, get this, 8 (eight) (eight!!!) students from our room alone advance to the region bands. So my top three deserved to advance, but what about the other five? Couldn't they have been just about any of maybe 10 of the others? Granted, combining the scores of the five judges probably evens things out a bit, but couldn't I possibly have sent some deserving and hard working kid home in tears from not making the band because I picked the wrong number from 0 to 75?
Imagine, just for joke, that you are a farmer. Your specialty is growing tomatoes. Your tomatoes sell well, for the most part, and you enjoy growing them, though you don't feel as if you have been doing it for long enough to be called an expert. Somehow, you are volunteered to be a judge at a county fair, where you will be judging tomatoes. You are presented with three tomatoes each from 26 young growers, who have just started growing tomatoes recently. Also, most of these tomatoes were grown hurriedly and in bad conditions. Your task is to give each tomato a score from 0 to 75. Oh, yeah, and your total scores will most likely affect whether these young people eventually spend the rest of their lives growing tomatoes or find something better to do (usually law or investment banking, it seems). You get the idea.
But they did feed us good food, I did get paid, and afterwards I got to relax for a while in Craig's hot tub, so now all is right again in the world of Chris.
But nothing could quite prepare me for what a fiasco it really was. There were five judges in each room, and a total of 38 rooms, 3 for tenor trombone alone, which means a total of (carry the 1) 190 judges. Assuming there were approximately 25 kids in each room, you would get close to 1,000 kids running around. I don't know how many buses that would be. The guy in charge (wait, no, I mean "in charge") said that other regions had changed the way they did these auditions, having a first audition at each school before the kids got this far, which sounded like a great idea to me. But he then went on to say, with some pride, I might add, that they had stuck to their system, which was working just fine for them, thank you very much. I really wanted to raise my hand at this point and move that this guy, whoever he was, be sacked and replaced by someone with some god damn sense, because This. Could. All. Be. So. Much. Easier.
And why, while we're on the subject, did each room need five judges? When I auditioned for the similar bands in Massachusetts, there was one judge. There was no screen. You walked in and looked your future in the eye. That judge then gave you a series of scores, usually from 1 to 8 or 1 to 10, depending on the level, each one for a certain aspect of your playing, such as tone quality, articulation, intonation, or rhythm. This system worked fairly well. But no, the Texas system is quite different. More on that later.
Here are some highlights, good and bad, from the experience:
-They fed us barbecue! When we got into the room where we were supposed to meet and nobody seemed to have any idea what was going on because not everyone was there yet, soon we began to see people coming into the room with food. So we went and stood on line for food, which was delicious home cooked barbecue. Usually in these situations I am more grateful for the food than for the payment I receive, and this was no exception.
-When we got into our room, the head judge read out the rules, then called the first few kids up to the "ready" chairs, I guess so that they could get ready to play. In a different chair, I, I guess. Then he said "you have one minute to warm up," after which followed the unmistakeable sound of 26 high school trombonists warming up simultaneously.
If hell only had a soundtrack.
-The sheet which told us how to keep score was completely indecipherable and infuriating, which are not good qualities for something that is passing itself off as "instructions." On it, I was told many things, most of which I did not understand and therefore ignored. I managed to figure out that I was supposed to listen to a major scale, then give it a score. Okay, I can do that. Wait. A score...from 0 to 25? Why such a large range? It's one major scale. Okay, well I guess I'll just go in multiples of five, can't be too hard. Then, next, I listen an excerpt from the first etude, and give that a score as well. A score from 0 to...75? No, that can't be right. "Your combined score will then be out of 100." Fuck, they really do mean 75. So I'm supposed to hear 30 seconds of trombone playing, and then pick a number, any number, between 0 and 75? Wait, it gets better. This pattern repeats three times: scale, etude, scale, etude, scale, etude, and the total score is out of 300. 300! No wonder they told us to bring a calculator, which I of course did not, confident in my ability to add numbers from 0 to 10 in my head.
Anyway, this complete pigfuck of a system had the following result in my scores: The student who very obviously (to me) should have placed first did place first (on my sheet). The students who placed second and third also played quite well and got the placement they should have (again, on my sheet). After that, the placements that I had in the end seemed even to me to be a little bit random. I couldn't really remember after the first three who had played better than whom, so the rest of them could have come in any order whatsoever. This wouldn't bother me so much, but, get this, 8 (eight) (eight!!!) students from our room alone advance to the region bands. So my top three deserved to advance, but what about the other five? Couldn't they have been just about any of maybe 10 of the others? Granted, combining the scores of the five judges probably evens things out a bit, but couldn't I possibly have sent some deserving and hard working kid home in tears from not making the band because I picked the wrong number from 0 to 75?
Imagine, just for joke, that you are a farmer. Your specialty is growing tomatoes. Your tomatoes sell well, for the most part, and you enjoy growing them, though you don't feel as if you have been doing it for long enough to be called an expert. Somehow, you are volunteered to be a judge at a county fair, where you will be judging tomatoes. You are presented with three tomatoes each from 26 young growers, who have just started growing tomatoes recently. Also, most of these tomatoes were grown hurriedly and in bad conditions. Your task is to give each tomato a score from 0 to 75. Oh, yeah, and your total scores will most likely affect whether these young people eventually spend the rest of their lives growing tomatoes or find something better to do (usually law or investment banking, it seems). You get the idea.
But they did feed us good food, I did get paid, and afterwards I got to relax for a while in Craig's hot tub, so now all is right again in the world of Chris.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
On Cricket vs. Baseball
Tonight I played darts for FOUR HOURS, which might not sound like a long time, but believe me, it is an incredibly long time to be throwing sharp things at a board almost nonstop. I was okay at the beginning, actually won a game or two, but then got a little worse. That's when I started drinking heavily. And wouldn't you know it, after a few drinks, I became a dart throwing machine! I couldn't miss! The last game was a five-way free-for-all which I of course dominated all the way through. I ended up winning by the slimmest of margins. It was good that it ended when it did, too, because last call at the Ginger Man had come and gone by that point, and I think the bartenders were waiting for us to leave.
So, yeah, a dart marathon is always good. Tomorrow I get to go and tell high schoolers how to play the music for their region band auditions which are this weekend. Then on Friday, I get to go and listen to lots of high school trombone players play the same three pieces over and over while I give them scores based on how well they do. That's right, I'm judging region band auditions! How did I get this job, you might ask? Well, I'm not sure. But it was handed down to me, probably through a long list of people who came before me on the list of "who would be okay to judge high school trombones and either make or ruin their careers in music for the rest of their lives." But, luckily for me, and unluckily for all the poor high schoolers who have to play for me, the job came to me, and I am getting paid to sit and listen to trombones while I circle and add numbers on a score sheet.
Actually, this should be a pretty easy job, and one for which I am quite well suited. I have, of course, heard the region band audition pieces hundreds of times by now, and know them quite well, so I will know who can play them and who can't quite quickly. But still! Responsibility!
!!
Okay, I've been drinking, which explains my darts prowess this evening, so I'm going to hit the hay. Or the sack. I guess "bed" would be the correct term. I'm going to bed.
So, yeah, a dart marathon is always good. Tomorrow I get to go and tell high schoolers how to play the music for their region band auditions which are this weekend. Then on Friday, I get to go and listen to lots of high school trombone players play the same three pieces over and over while I give them scores based on how well they do. That's right, I'm judging region band auditions! How did I get this job, you might ask? Well, I'm not sure. But it was handed down to me, probably through a long list of people who came before me on the list of "who would be okay to judge high school trombones and either make or ruin their careers in music for the rest of their lives." But, luckily for me, and unluckily for all the poor high schoolers who have to play for me, the job came to me, and I am getting paid to sit and listen to trombones while I circle and add numbers on a score sheet.
Actually, this should be a pretty easy job, and one for which I am quite well suited. I have, of course, heard the region band audition pieces hundreds of times by now, and know them quite well, so I will know who can play them and who can't quite quickly. But still! Responsibility!
!!
Okay, I've been drinking, which explains my darts prowess this evening, so I'm going to hit the hay. Or the sack. I guess "bed" would be the correct term. I'm going to bed.
Monday, December 05, 2005
On Quick Endings
Okay, this is really starting to get strange. Classes have ended. A whole semester has passed. It's December. I went to a Christmas party today. There are decorations on all the houses.
It was 80 degrees yesterday.
Granted, today was a bit chillier, and I've been told by many that this winter so far has been unseasonably warm even for Texas. But still. There's no snow, only rain. It doesn't feel like the holidays yet.
We had our last class on Friday, Grad Music History Review. It was decided a while back that the theme song for that class is "I Don't Want to Wait" by Paula Cole, perhaps best known for its role as the theme from Dawson's Creek. So we sang that song at the end of class, as we walked out in slow motion, waving goodbye. Which is why it makes the list. Also, it's a pretty great song. Fits well into the falsetto range.
So less than two weeks and I'm back in Boston, getting used to the cold again and trying to forget for a short time that I am now a Texan. I'm looking forward to going home, it just doesn't feel like a full semester has passed. I can blame it on the weather, and that may be part of it, but really I think this semester just went by way too fast. If things continue like this, grad school will be over before I get a chance to enjoy it. But there's still plenty of time left, right? Some?
It was 80 degrees yesterday.
Granted, today was a bit chillier, and I've been told by many that this winter so far has been unseasonably warm even for Texas. But still. There's no snow, only rain. It doesn't feel like the holidays yet.
We had our last class on Friday, Grad Music History Review. It was decided a while back that the theme song for that class is "I Don't Want to Wait" by Paula Cole, perhaps best known for its role as the theme from Dawson's Creek. So we sang that song at the end of class, as we walked out in slow motion, waving goodbye. Which is why it makes the list. Also, it's a pretty great song. Fits well into the falsetto range.
So less than two weeks and I'm back in Boston, getting used to the cold again and trying to forget for a short time that I am now a Texan. I'm looking forward to going home, it just doesn't feel like a full semester has passed. I can blame it on the weather, and that may be part of it, but really I think this semester just went by way too fast. If things continue like this, grad school will be over before I get a chance to enjoy it. But there's still plenty of time left, right? Some?
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