21 December, 2009
10 December, 2009
Winter
Michigan was hit with a blizzard this week. It's horrible, snow everywhere, extreme cold, driving conditions terrible, etc. Snow always makes me feel incredibly isolated, lonely, contrite, and reflective. I have been constantly reminded of Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening:"
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Here comes the reflective part. Motivation is hard to find within oneself during times such as these. I suppose for some people motivation is hard to locate at any time, however, I have traditionally never had an issue with feeling motivated or locating my drive to do well. Perhaps it is the snow, which makes me not want to drive anywhere, that is preventing my from studying; from working a little harder to achieve the things I so desperately want from life. However, I could easily study at my house, I simply choose not to. I firmly believe that grounding oneself among realistic goals is really all you need to succeed; that and the motivation to achieve said goals. Immersion in music and scholarship has become an outlet for me in the past four years, and tonight it's unfortunately not working as a catalyst in any way. Feelings of regret wash over me, which disgusts me in ways that few can imagine. Yet, they are there, persistent as little daggers. We all garner thoughts enough to instill us with a sense of restlessness and un-accomplishment, and it's probably best to let those feelings run their course, rather than continuing to push harder or using an escape hatch. Solution?
Reading Proust and a new novel by Tobias Hill.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Here comes the reflective part. Motivation is hard to find within oneself during times such as these. I suppose for some people motivation is hard to locate at any time, however, I have traditionally never had an issue with feeling motivated or locating my drive to do well. Perhaps it is the snow, which makes me not want to drive anywhere, that is preventing my from studying; from working a little harder to achieve the things I so desperately want from life. However, I could easily study at my house, I simply choose not to. I firmly believe that grounding oneself among realistic goals is really all you need to succeed; that and the motivation to achieve said goals. Immersion in music and scholarship has become an outlet for me in the past four years, and tonight it's unfortunately not working as a catalyst in any way. Feelings of regret wash over me, which disgusts me in ways that few can imagine. Yet, they are there, persistent as little daggers. We all garner thoughts enough to instill us with a sense of restlessness and un-accomplishment, and it's probably best to let those feelings run their course, rather than continuing to push harder or using an escape hatch. Solution?
Reading Proust and a new novel by Tobias Hill.
09 December, 2009
GRE
So I am in the midst of studying for the GRE, the stupidest test on the planet. All it tests is your ability to take the GRE, it is not an augury of your abilities in graduate school. I was actually reading an article in the NY Times about this exact sentiment, it really is a silly test.
A Great Morning
I am so enraptured with coffee in the morning, especially if its being drank whilst smoking a cigarette. Perfect hang-over cure.
08 December, 2009
MANHUNT; A Good Thing?
So after a strange series of events at my house this evening, some friends and I decided to creep through MANHUNT to find one of our teachers. Apparently, this supposedly straight man has a profile on MH and has been trying to creep on some of our mutual friends. So we were looking around the site, which I have totally used before, not only to hook up but also to network when I was living in London. It is a useful site for both of those purposes, regardless of how sleazy it actually is. So since this came up as a topic, I thought it would be fun to muse about what the site actually is, and what it really accomplishes.
Manhunt might have a negative stigma attached to it, but simply because NSA hookups are looked down upon, among both sexualities. In our post-modernistic society, we should remember that many of these things are relative, or indeed do not exist anywhere but our minds. I think hedonism is healthy, and that the world would probably be a better place if we all indulged just a bit more sexually. Europe is so open sexually, and America should be the same way; manhunt is contributing to this openness, and I like that.
I have a boyfriend, but its still cool to look sometimes, even if you're not tempted.
Sorry this post is so discombobulated, it's been a long day.
Manhunt might have a negative stigma attached to it, but simply because NSA hookups are looked down upon, among both sexualities. In our post-modernistic society, we should remember that many of these things are relative, or indeed do not exist anywhere but our minds. I think hedonism is healthy, and that the world would probably be a better place if we all indulged just a bit more sexually. Europe is so open sexually, and America should be the same way; manhunt is contributing to this openness, and I like that.
I have a boyfriend, but its still cool to look sometimes, even if you're not tempted.
Sorry this post is so discombobulated, it's been a long day.
07 December, 2009
A Brief Meditation on Parker's "Remaking the Song."
Roger Parker's interesting axioms regarding what can only be considered to be Musicology's broad scholastic revision of analytical thought regarding the operatic vein can in every way be considered ground-shaking. In very eloquent terms, he manages to introduce a very uncomfortable hypothesis on the wings of post-modernism. PM analysis has been active in several other branches of the scholastic humanities, yet in music has remained largely ignored. Parker takes his readers in the steps of Kerman, and of course, Abbate, continuing their avant-garde evaluations of standard operatic repertoire, and suggests, with veritable historical basis, that the methodology inherent in musicology approaches operatic authenticity from the wrong way. For example, a historical and forthright method to utilize when approaching music for analysis is to ascertain several levels of pursuit, ranging from the very conservative (theoretical) to the very liberal (musical metaphor/ semiotics). Within this range, musicologists are free to arrive at very different conclusions about very old music. These types of approaches have an inherent flaw, however. The range of approaches available, whether traditionally conservative or liberal, all hinge on the context that the composers work in question is "authentic;" meaning that the work is in performance exactly what the work is as it appears on paper. One might immediately notice the flaw in this approach, which is not-too-surprisingly founded upon historical fact, the simplicity of which manifests itself throughout all historical eras of music. Authenticity is questioned in the realm of Handel by the hermeneutic revisions made to his music in the mid-Seventeenth and Eighteenth centuries; in Mozart and Beethoven with the classical era's penchant for embellishment and aria substitution in performance; in Donizetti by self-quotation, thus implying a separate or possibly equal thematic message or narrative meaning; in Verdi by revisions... and the list continues. These are issues which must be grappled with, and according to Parker, must be wholly evaluated within the context of history on a case by case basis. That axiom is by no means new, the idea is Kermans'; however, Parker adds to it by way of pointing out that music scholarship cannot be elitist in what parts of history it chooses to evaluate and what parts of history is chooses to ignore.
Throughout his book, Parker provides his readers with extraordinary examples of how authenticity can be molded through scholarship, including his own. He touches on the obscure and the popular, and at all times is engaged in a delightful and brilliant intercourse. Of course, authenticity plays a very large role in this book, but appears under the guises of several markedly different approaches to musical work. He pointedly debates other scholars, and is direct in his (sometimes quite frank) commentary towards their work. Above all, the monograph is a testament to the current state of Musicology, and the tantalizing prospects of forthcoming operatic analysis .
Throughout his book, Parker provides his readers with extraordinary examples of how authenticity can be molded through scholarship, including his own. He touches on the obscure and the popular, and at all times is engaged in a delightful and brilliant intercourse. Of course, authenticity plays a very large role in this book, but appears under the guises of several markedly different approaches to musical work. He pointedly debates other scholars, and is direct in his (sometimes quite frank) commentary towards their work. Above all, the monograph is a testament to the current state of Musicology, and the tantalizing prospects of forthcoming operatic analysis .
Be Bold No Fear No Regret
So lately, I have been wanting a tattoo. I am waiting for something pivotal in my life to occur before I get it. Simply because of the logistics involved with getting it done. This is what I want:
I have never gotten a tattoo before. But I want this one on my side, moving downwards over my ribs. I think it would be so badass. Additionally, this mantra really encompasses in very few words my overarching feelings towards life. It's what I do to get the most out of it; to take it by the horns, as it were.
After all, the world would be a better place if more people would be a little bolder, and acted without fear of regret or judgement. Notice I did not say, "everyone needs to act this way," because that would be a disaster.
In any case, I have been vacillating between getting it right now, or later. The basic reasons for waiting have been cascading through my mind; should I wait, will it look bad later, do I really want this, etc. However, the thought that stops me from getting a tattoo inked on my skin is simply that I might not need it. I am smart enough to describe my mantra regarding life in words, obviously, and don't need it tattooed on my skin. I still want it, though.
I have never gotten a tattoo before. But I want this one on my side, moving downwards over my ribs. I think it would be so badass. Additionally, this mantra really encompasses in very few words my overarching feelings towards life. It's what I do to get the most out of it; to take it by the horns, as it were.
After all, the world would be a better place if more people would be a little bolder, and acted without fear of regret or judgement. Notice I did not say, "everyone needs to act this way," because that would be a disaster.
In any case, I have been vacillating between getting it right now, or later. The basic reasons for waiting have been cascading through my mind; should I wait, will it look bad later, do I really want this, etc. However, the thought that stops me from getting a tattoo inked on my skin is simply that I might not need it. I am smart enough to describe my mantra regarding life in words, obviously, and don't need it tattooed on my skin. I still want it, though.
Hey Jude, stop being so stupid.
Today, I got my monthly haircut, per usual at Jude's. While waiting in the seriously over-decorated store ( we are talking posters wall to wall, for those of you who have never been) I began to eavesdrop on a conversation:
Stylist: "Like, I think they were from Latvia? or something? You know it's that country near Russia."
Customer: "grunt."
Stylist: " I feel like, maybe, they are, like, conservative?
Customer: "Probably."
It went on for a while, and booo on me, the whole time I just kept thinking about how dumb this girl was and how I really did not want her cutting my hair. I mean, you have to be careful. Some people would argue that you don't have to intelligent to cut hair, I disagree. I think in order to cut hair well, you should have some sort of vision, and I was under the impression this girl seriously lacked any vision at all.
Fast Forward to when she finally got around to cutting my hair, and slowly she begins to appear intelligent. Well, fuck me, I will be damned. This girl can actually talk about what it means to live in another country and of the sentiments of the native people towards Americans. Our conversation centered on England mostly, but we also managed to talk about the French and Italians. I was kicking myself for being such an asshole. AND she made my hair look great.
So the moral of this story is...just because some blonde girl is acting stupid, doesn't always mean she actually is.
Score 1 for Karma, 0 for Mike.
Stylist: "Like, I think they were from Latvia? or something? You know it's that country near Russia."
Customer: "grunt."
Stylist: " I feel like, maybe, they are, like, conservative?
Customer: "Probably."
It went on for a while, and booo on me, the whole time I just kept thinking about how dumb this girl was and how I really did not want her cutting my hair. I mean, you have to be careful. Some people would argue that you don't have to intelligent to cut hair, I disagree. I think in order to cut hair well, you should have some sort of vision, and I was under the impression this girl seriously lacked any vision at all.
Fast Forward to when she finally got around to cutting my hair, and slowly she begins to appear intelligent. Well, fuck me, I will be damned. This girl can actually talk about what it means to live in another country and of the sentiments of the native people towards Americans. Our conversation centered on England mostly, but we also managed to talk about the French and Italians. I was kicking myself for being such an asshole. AND she made my hair look great.
So the moral of this story is...just because some blonde girl is acting stupid, doesn't always mean she actually is.
Score 1 for Karma, 0 for Mike.
First
It isn't just about being heard. Really, it's about listening to what is being said around you; assimilating it all and doing something about it. Or not.
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