Of Gratitude, Humility, and Terror

Hello Hello Hello,

Let's face it: I suck at blogging.  Thus, this will be another ginormous update. Fortunately, I promise not to mention jewelry or craft projects :)

First is first:  I'm auditioning for some really cool stuff. 

Back in December, after I left my UT job, I decided to throw my hat back into the academic arena, and audition for graduate programs.  Hoo-ray DMA (to be chanted with moderate enthusiasm).

Now, I had been living in the complicated land of Administrivia for the last 16 months, and had the old adage "every moment you are not practicing, some one else is" floating in my mind.  I was confident that I would not be invited to a lot of places, especially to the places I was interested in.

So, I put together a punch of tapes, and sent them off.  Much thanks to Muldoon Baptist Church, Martin & Lora, Liz Love, and Dennis Llinas for helping me make it happen.  The list was:

Yale
Northwestern
USC
Michigan
Ensemble ACJW (awesome fellowship in NYC)
and New World Symphony

When it came down to it, I could not muster the sanity/fortitude/focus/will to put together one last tape, so New World didn't happen.  The other 5 sailed off alone into the inter webs.

And I waited.

AND WAITED.

and waited


and FINALLY, started hearing back.

Good News:  I'm invited to audition at all of them!!!
Bad News: I'm invited to audition at all of them...and some of them have terrifying tests (I'm looking at you, Yale)


must practice, must practice, must practice, must practice, must practice, must practice

Second: One Woman's Epic Quest to Reread the ENTIRE Norton Anthology of Music...in a month

Oddly enough, no networks have offered to pick this up as a reality TV Show.  I mean, it's got to be vastly more interesting than all the Kardashian nonsense on the air, but whatever.  America isn't ready for the Guidonian Hand.

Anywho, as aforementioned, Yale is known to have a terrifying and beastly entrance exam.  Thus, I am endeavoring to remember all of the music history that has ebbed in my mental tide, and relearn Italian (ha... haha ha ha) so that I can "translate scholarly documents"... all before 02/24

to that I say: Vorrei una birra, per favore

I don't think that the kind of "language abilities" that Yale is expecting... sigh


Third: I'm teaching, and I love it

Ok, I might be the luckiest person alive. I quit a paying job with benefits (and watched my poor Dad age 5 years overnight because of it) and leapt into unemployment with my fingers crossed, expecting January to be a waste land of stress.

Amazingly, Austin Soundwaves (a very very cool program sponsored by the Hispanic Alliance for the Performing Arts) needed a horn teacher, and even more amazingly,  I have the opportunity to check it out, and work with some fantastic kids and colleagues.

:)

Once upon a time, I was a Music Ed major (I think for 2 weeks....seriously) and then I switched, convince d that classroom teaching was not for me.  GUESS what I'm doing?   What's that you say, Irony?  2 hours of classroom teaching a day?  HA.

Lesson learned:  20 year old AMC had no idea what she wanted, because this is awesome.

Note: it's probably also awesome because I only do it for 2 hours a day.  All you full time teachers: GOD BLESS YOU AND YOUR AMAZING PATIENCE.

So, right now, I'm insanely busy, but love everything I'm doing... well, ok, I don't love ready 100 pages of the NAWM a day, but this too shall pass.

Thanks for reading!

Gratitude for Power Tools and A Fuller Understanding of the Elbow Grease Concept

I am grateful for my former-friend/former-student/former TA/current friend Marshall Todd Wootton for many reasons.  For example, in his blessedly organized way, he can interpret my incoherent babblings...and untangle my ridiculous pile of trendy/cheap necklaces.

To illustrate the ridiculousness, I give you this picture:

You are seeing Marshall and I's (*henceforth, team WootSnark) previous attempt to organize the jungle of costume jewels by hanging them on the wall in my apartment.   My landlady wasn't exactly thrilled about all of those holes when I moved out, but she thought it looked "so artsy and intriguing" (her words, I swear) that it compelled her to use my apt as the model for all prospective tenants.

(side note: I'm not sure if she believed that my artsy things could cancel out the dinge of the building, or if all of my neighbors were just that messy. . . .)

(also, in the spirit of full disclosure: I didn't have instagram when i originally took this picture, but since instagram makes the world look better, I may have utilized it here.  Walden filter for the win)

ANYWHO.  This solution was simple enough (nails + jewelry = quick art), but did a number on sheetrock, so I have decided against reimplementing this in my current abode.   The other night, when I was getting ready to go out with Becky, I realized that all of these necklaces were currently amassed in a web and impossible to separate.   Something had to be done.

THIS POST WILL GET MORE INTERESTING AND LESS JEWELRY-ORIENTED I PROMISE


Coincidentally, Marshall and I were both exceedingly bored on Tuesday, and decided to meet up for lunch.  Though the day started out innocently enough, poor Marshall was soon roped into project mode.   The studios of WootSnark would produce a board of vintage looking knobs and hooks on which I could hang the jewelry, and transport anywhere!

With aforementioned knobs, some wood, a can of spray paint and extra nails and screws in hand, we ventured back to my house to get started.

You will note that our supplies did not include power tools.

We believed we could nail starter-holes then screw things in by hand.  Theoretically, this plan is flawless...efficient, not so much, but feasible, yes.

Marshall constructed the frame, spray painting commenced and we munched on pizza while we waited for paint to dry.

Each coat dried for 15 minutes until the last, which we let dry for 30ish. That's a total of an hour of paint drying, folks.

Before we go any further, I want to say that the day had started so beautifully.  I mean, this was a part of our day:

Back to our trail of tears, Marshall and I begin to realize that solid oak is a little more robust than we had imagined...and that we were about to do this 11 times.  On that chilly January night, we sat there, applying body weight for torque on these little screws, wielding a hammer and contemplating the true beauty of power drills.

The first 2 knobs were easy.  The fourth, fifth and sixth were much more difficult.  Seven and Eight were total jerks.  Team WootSnark reached an impasse.  These two screws would not go into this wood.  While I searched high and low for any tools that might aid us, Marshall pleaded with the wood to cooperate.  We were close.

By this point we might have been delirious.  I found a gigantic nail and Marshall suggested that with larger starter holes we might make more progress.  That was when this happened:

Followed quickly by this:

Thus, with sore hands and sweat on our brows, we accepted our defeat.  We shall reconvene, with the appropriate tools, and try again.  In the mean time, the pile-o'-necklaces remains, and the Craft Project of Broken Dreams taunts me from it's final resting place.

I am reminded of the importance of having the right tool for the right job...or not bringing a knife to a gun fight...or something.

SIGH


We did have fun though.... I think.