1-6-12
Well, it was a record 10.5 hour trip down here to Tennessee on Wednesday (after a few days of weather delays). No, I didn't speed. The traffic was really light--I made it through Indiana in only five hours, but that may be because of the route I took--and the weather stayed nice and clear. So, I arrived in town at like 7:30 PM or so, EST (I left at 8:00 AM CST), and decided to check my P.O. Box (yay! mail!) and get dinner at the Village Market (just because I COULD because it was still OPEN--it was an exciting feeling).
On Thursday, I got an oil change for Grune and also chose to replace one of my high-mount brake lights (apparently it was out). I went grocery-shopping and practiced on my bass clarinet. Today, I slept in longer than I had expected (one, I'd stayed up late talking about writing with a friend who's teaching in China, and two, I was warm and comfortable in bed and kept re-setting my alarm). Still, I made it to the credit union, the campus shop (I picked up my last textbook, the one that hadn't been available before break), the post office (no mail), and the VM (an onion--better than Wal-Mart's produce) before they all closed up shop, seeing as it was Friday afternoon. I even chatted with the cashier at the VM about today being a busy day, and she said, "Not as busy as when the kids come back." (She thought I lived around here. Weird! But good!)
I practiced some more on the bass clarinet; I really suck at practicing before we sight-read together as a group (which I'm sure we'll do on Wednesday). I can learn the notes and kinda learn the rhythms but it won't come together until I get a feel for how fast we'll be playing the pieces. Yes, I own the tracks for the one piece (different pieces from the original Star Wars trilogy), but listening to them does not usually translate into me playing awesomely. Especially in this case, seeing as I'm not a brass player, a percussionist, or some high-pitched instrument that usually gets melody. You can't always distinctly hear my parts on the tracks because they're foundational--heard but not seen, if that makes any sense. (It does to me, anyway.) So listening to the tracks doesn't completely help. We'll see on Wednesday. At least I know I've done some practicing. Not as much as I would have liked (see: weather delayed my return), but at least some.
Yes, I've got some resolutions, but I don't know if I'd call them resolutions or something else. I don't know if I'm up for posting them either, seeing as they're only partially formed in my mind as yet. :D
More later.
Showing posts with label bass clarinet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bass clarinet. Show all posts
Friday, January 6, 2012
Monday, October 24, 2011
I Willingly Chose to Have a Microphone in my Face Today
10-24-11
It was the strangest thing, being interviewed. Especially since it was only for the sounds. For the pictures that I could create with my words. It made sense to me, seeing as I'm a writer, but there I was, trying to talk about music and creating music and how to put my bass clarinet together, trying to find the right words, the clearest words, and I wondered: How do people on television do it? Especially since there they have to worry about looking right and not fidgeting and what not. All I had to do was talk and play, and I was even screwing up my scales. Oops. Anyway...I made it through, and Nathan hopefully has good material for his project. (And I hope I sound okay, since I don't necessarily like how I sound when I hear recordings of my voice. No matter.)
More later.
It was the strangest thing, being interviewed. Especially since it was only for the sounds. For the pictures that I could create with my words. It made sense to me, seeing as I'm a writer, but there I was, trying to talk about music and creating music and how to put my bass clarinet together, trying to find the right words, the clearest words, and I wondered: How do people on television do it? Especially since there they have to worry about looking right and not fidgeting and what not. All I had to do was talk and play, and I was even screwing up my scales. Oops. Anyway...I made it through, and Nathan hopefully has good material for his project. (And I hope I sound okay, since I don't necessarily like how I sound when I hear recordings of my voice. No matter.)
More later.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Pops Concert
2-20-11
Saturday night was the evening of the Pops Concert. Blue Shades went well (my solo begins around 4:34 of that clip). My solo didn't go perfectly, but it went decently. (That's partially because Parsons and I discovered last Thursday that I'd been practicing something wrong for like a month and I probably spent about three hours maybe fixing that mistake.) Despite that, it sounded nice anyway. Before the concert I just decided that I was going to have fun and that whatever happened, happened. And it was better than freaking out about it, because I probably would have messed up then.
After that, I listened to I Cantori sing. They sounded good, even if I was in the lobby since there were so many people crowded into Ackerman Auditorium. Well, when they finished, I went off with Robby, Curtis, Brooke, Janelle, and Chris to Rafael's, a little pizzeria at Four Corners. I played my first-ever rounds of poker (I think the variety of it was Texas Hold 'Em, but I don't really know) and I had beginner's luck. We ate merrily and then ended with watching most of The Incredibles back at my apartment. I talked with Chris about Sherlock Holmes and Ender, and we all swapped stories about families and falling asleep in weird places when we were small children.
All in all, a good evening had by me for sure. I enjoyed it. It was nice to be building memories and relationships with other friends of mine, ones I don't always hang out with. It was very fun.
More later.
Saturday night was the evening of the Pops Concert. Blue Shades went well (my solo begins around 4:34 of that clip). My solo didn't go perfectly, but it went decently. (That's partially because Parsons and I discovered last Thursday that I'd been practicing something wrong for like a month and I probably spent about three hours maybe fixing that mistake.) Despite that, it sounded nice anyway. Before the concert I just decided that I was going to have fun and that whatever happened, happened. And it was better than freaking out about it, because I probably would have messed up then.
After that, I listened to I Cantori sing. They sounded good, even if I was in the lobby since there were so many people crowded into Ackerman Auditorium. Well, when they finished, I went off with Robby, Curtis, Brooke, Janelle, and Chris to Rafael's, a little pizzeria at Four Corners. I played my first-ever rounds of poker (I think the variety of it was Texas Hold 'Em, but I don't really know) and I had beginner's luck. We ate merrily and then ended with watching most of The Incredibles back at my apartment. I talked with Chris about Sherlock Holmes and Ender, and we all swapped stories about families and falling asleep in weird places when we were small children.
All in all, a good evening had by me for sure. I enjoyed it. It was nice to be building memories and relationships with other friends of mine, ones I don't always hang out with. It was very fun.
More later.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
A Screw Loose
2-8-11
I've got a screw loose.
No, literally. Not metaphorically, all you people out there who automatically thought, "Well, finally she's admitting it."
I have a screw loose on my bass clarinet. It must have come undone due to the massive amounts of practicing I've been doing because we have an upcoming concert. (And by "upcoming," I mean a week from Saturday night.)
I practiced my scales and the first couple places--everything was working fine. Then I went to practice a tricky part that isn't a solo but yet I want to play well--and no high C. Well, for me it's a high C. If it was a regular clarinet, I think it would be the equivalent of middle C. Anyway, the C that's on the treble staff. Wouldn't play. At all. And neither would the C-sharp or the B-natural.
So I immediately think, "Hey, Mr. Penner could help me with this!" And so I go upstairs and--no Mr. Penner. I check the music office; no Mr. Penner, and they don't have a screwdriver either. Both Mrs. Minner and Mr. Parsons are involved with lessons, and so I wait outside Mr. Penner's door for fifteen minutes, attempting to screw it back in with a fingernail, but it's in an awkward place so my fingers don't fit. No one comes in that fifteen minutes, either.
I go back out into the hall; Mrs. Minner's door is open. So I asked her if she had a screwdriver. Nope, but she let me into Mr. Penner's office, where he does have a screwdriver sitting with pens in a coffee cup. Rejoicing! Mrs. Minner leaves and I sit down to tighten my loose screw.
The screwdriver's the wrong type.
I spend fifteen minutes trying to use a tiny pair of scissors to screw the blasted thing back in, but nothing doing. Still no Mr. Penner, either. So I go back out and realize that I have to go to recitation.
Basically, I'm taking a tiny screwdriver to school tomorrow so I can fix my own bass clarinet. *sigh* And I missed out on a good forty minutes of practice which are sort of necessary since there's a concert a week from Saturday night and I have SOLOS that I need to keep practicing. (Since Parsons said that familiarity bred comfort; I always thought it bred contempt, but this is band, after all.)
I'm sure I'll fix it and I'm sure it'll sound fine, but I sure was frustrated that I didn't get to practice today because I couldn't find the proper screwdriver. *sigh*
More later.
I've got a screw loose.
No, literally. Not metaphorically, all you people out there who automatically thought, "Well, finally she's admitting it."
I have a screw loose on my bass clarinet. It must have come undone due to the massive amounts of practicing I've been doing because we have an upcoming concert. (And by "upcoming," I mean a week from Saturday night.)
I practiced my scales and the first couple places--everything was working fine. Then I went to practice a tricky part that isn't a solo but yet I want to play well--and no high C. Well, for me it's a high C. If it was a regular clarinet, I think it would be the equivalent of middle C. Anyway, the C that's on the treble staff. Wouldn't play. At all. And neither would the C-sharp or the B-natural.
So I immediately think, "Hey, Mr. Penner could help me with this!" And so I go upstairs and--no Mr. Penner. I check the music office; no Mr. Penner, and they don't have a screwdriver either. Both Mrs. Minner and Mr. Parsons are involved with lessons, and so I wait outside Mr. Penner's door for fifteen minutes, attempting to screw it back in with a fingernail, but it's in an awkward place so my fingers don't fit. No one comes in that fifteen minutes, either.
I go back out into the hall; Mrs. Minner's door is open. So I asked her if she had a screwdriver. Nope, but she let me into Mr. Penner's office, where he does have a screwdriver sitting with pens in a coffee cup. Rejoicing! Mrs. Minner leaves and I sit down to tighten my loose screw.
The screwdriver's the wrong type.
I spend fifteen minutes trying to use a tiny pair of scissors to screw the blasted thing back in, but nothing doing. Still no Mr. Penner, either. So I go back out and realize that I have to go to recitation.
Basically, I'm taking a tiny screwdriver to school tomorrow so I can fix my own bass clarinet. *sigh* And I missed out on a good forty minutes of practice which are sort of necessary since there's a concert a week from Saturday night and I have SOLOS that I need to keep practicing. (Since Parsons said that familiarity bred comfort; I always thought it bred contempt, but this is band, after all.)
I'm sure I'll fix it and I'm sure it'll sound fine, but I sure was frustrated that I didn't get to practice today because I couldn't find the proper screwdriver. *sigh*
More later.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Wind Symphony Tour
11/7/10
We got back from our Wind Symphony tour to Michigan at 2:30 this morning. Well, 1:30 this morning, if you take into account the time change. I slept for a bit and then I got up, did homework, and am at work.
We played at Great Lakes Adventist Academy (after a rehearsal with their band), Battle Creek Academy (after a rehearsal with their band), and Andrews University vespers and the church services on Sabbath. We spent way too much time on the bus, but we had fun playing Bible character Questions, reading, watching movies, talking, and trying to sleep in the chair and on the aisle in freezing temperatures. We ate at hotel restaurants, school cafeterias, fast food restaurants, and church potlucks. We had a massive snowball fight outside the hotel on Friday night because we were introducing some Floridians to snow--and it was pretty epic. We took pictures of us and I'll be getting them off Facebook at some point.
Overall, it was a great trip, even if I think my bottom lip's a little puffy from playing so much. Now it's time to get back to homework. I have a chemistry quiz tomorrow and a bunch of stuff is due. Back to the grind...
More later.
We got back from our Wind Symphony tour to Michigan at 2:30 this morning. Well, 1:30 this morning, if you take into account the time change. I slept for a bit and then I got up, did homework, and am at work.
We played at Great Lakes Adventist Academy (after a rehearsal with their band), Battle Creek Academy (after a rehearsal with their band), and Andrews University vespers and the church services on Sabbath. We spent way too much time on the bus, but we had fun playing Bible character Questions, reading, watching movies, talking, and trying to sleep in the chair and on the aisle in freezing temperatures. We ate at hotel restaurants, school cafeterias, fast food restaurants, and church potlucks. We had a massive snowball fight outside the hotel on Friday night because we were introducing some Floridians to snow--and it was pretty epic. We took pictures of us and I'll be getting them off Facebook at some point.
Overall, it was a great trip, even if I think my bottom lip's a little puffy from playing so much. Now it's time to get back to homework. I have a chemistry quiz tomorrow and a bunch of stuff is due. Back to the grind...
More later.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Rollerblading, Concerts, and Time with Friends
10-19-10
On Saturday night, I tried rollerblading for the first time. Now, I've worn regular skates before, mostly within the last ten months (and about ten years previously to that), and I am very unsteady on such skates. The last time we went to the Hamilton Skate Place, I fell twenty plus times and spent most of the two hours getting used to having skates on my feet.
This time, it was different. When I put the roller blades on and stood up, I could tell immediately that I felt more stable. Alan and Jason told me how to keep my weight shifted toward the inside, to take little hops and to try and keep my knees bent (my fear of falling definitely influences how I keep my knees, for sure). I went back and forth on the carpet a good ten minutes, trying to get the hang of the roller blades' feel. Chase got me to get onto the rink and stayed with for a few loops. (Alan and Chase are so good on their blades that they pretend to be off-balance and falling; if I didn't love them so much, I'd be annoyed at them.) I only fell twice (I'm not counting any time that I tried to get on or off of the rink, I'm counting when I was skating), and the worst bruise I got was on my hand, from when I caught it in the rink's bathroom door (it doesn't have any handles) before I even got the roller blades from the attendant. Basically, roller blades have gone onto my Want list, and I certainly want a pair--and soon, though that might not come to pass as quickly as I'd like. I'd need money first. Granted, I got blade burn on both of my calves, had a blister form and pop on my left instep (it still hurts, no joke), and my thighs were sore for two days, but I want roller blades.
The concert Sunday evening went well. About two thirds of the way through, my bass clarinet started acting up and squeaking and being all stupid during pieces that I knew how to play, but fortunately, no one but the director and the rest of Wind Symphony knows how the pieces are supposed to sound. We start Christmas music tomorrow.
Today I didn't have lab because we have midterm break starting tomorrow evening, and that cancels lab for Thursday. All the chemistry labs do the same lab every week, so they couldn't not have just one lab, so they canceled all of them. So I only had work tonight from 4:30 to 9:00. What did I do before that?
I slept in until 8 (it was most glorious), I did homework on my own until about 11:30 (eating a past brunch within that time), met up with Alan and Beth at about 12:30, and hung out with them until 4:25 or so. We went to the VM, ate at CK's, and studied in Thatcher South lobby. Well, mostly studied. We also talked NAMM, Alan helped me with my chemistry homework, I watched some crazy YouTube videos, and looked at pictures from both Ebeye and Idaho. It was a great afternoon, and I enjoyed it greatly.
Now, if only everyone wasn't going to other places during midterm break whereas I, the carless, moneyless me, will be staying here and doing homework because I have a History of England midterm on Monday. How's that for adventure?
Anyway, I also had Alan read the paper I'm writing for Expository Writing. It's fair since it's about how we became friends, after all. And he laughed in the right places and enjoyed it--and since he (and, by extension, Beth, who thought it was very conversational and sounded like me) was the intended audience, I don't necessarily care whether or not I did well in imitating the model I picked.
If this section of the class is about us going out on a limb and writing stuff that actually matters, then it shouldn't really be about points and grades and little check marks. That story has meaning for me and for the people I wrote it for, and if my teacher has a problem with that, so be it. If the class is supposed to be about growing us as writers and helping us to develop our own particular narrative voice, then I think my paper meets those goals. It's the story I wanted to tell, and it's the way I want to tell it. So be it.
I had a lot of fun with them this afternoon--and it's on days like today that I wonder why I have a job in the basement of the library. :D (I enjoy my job, though; it's a place of many fascinating conversations.)
More later.
--Ashlee
On Saturday night, I tried rollerblading for the first time. Now, I've worn regular skates before, mostly within the last ten months (and about ten years previously to that), and I am very unsteady on such skates. The last time we went to the Hamilton Skate Place, I fell twenty plus times and spent most of the two hours getting used to having skates on my feet.
This time, it was different. When I put the roller blades on and stood up, I could tell immediately that I felt more stable. Alan and Jason told me how to keep my weight shifted toward the inside, to take little hops and to try and keep my knees bent (my fear of falling definitely influences how I keep my knees, for sure). I went back and forth on the carpet a good ten minutes, trying to get the hang of the roller blades' feel. Chase got me to get onto the rink and stayed with for a few loops. (Alan and Chase are so good on their blades that they pretend to be off-balance and falling; if I didn't love them so much, I'd be annoyed at them.) I only fell twice (I'm not counting any time that I tried to get on or off of the rink, I'm counting when I was skating), and the worst bruise I got was on my hand, from when I caught it in the rink's bathroom door (it doesn't have any handles) before I even got the roller blades from the attendant. Basically, roller blades have gone onto my Want list, and I certainly want a pair--and soon, though that might not come to pass as quickly as I'd like. I'd need money first. Granted, I got blade burn on both of my calves, had a blister form and pop on my left instep (it still hurts, no joke), and my thighs were sore for two days, but I want roller blades.
The concert Sunday evening went well. About two thirds of the way through, my bass clarinet started acting up and squeaking and being all stupid during pieces that I knew how to play, but fortunately, no one but the director and the rest of Wind Symphony knows how the pieces are supposed to sound. We start Christmas music tomorrow.
Today I didn't have lab because we have midterm break starting tomorrow evening, and that cancels lab for Thursday. All the chemistry labs do the same lab every week, so they couldn't not have just one lab, so they canceled all of them. So I only had work tonight from 4:30 to 9:00. What did I do before that?
I slept in until 8 (it was most glorious), I did homework on my own until about 11:30 (eating a past brunch within that time), met up with Alan and Beth at about 12:30, and hung out with them until 4:25 or so. We went to the VM, ate at CK's, and studied in Thatcher South lobby. Well, mostly studied. We also talked NAMM, Alan helped me with my chemistry homework, I watched some crazy YouTube videos, and looked at pictures from both Ebeye and Idaho. It was a great afternoon, and I enjoyed it greatly.
Now, if only everyone wasn't going to other places during midterm break whereas I, the carless, moneyless me, will be staying here and doing homework because I have a History of England midterm on Monday. How's that for adventure?
Anyway, I also had Alan read the paper I'm writing for Expository Writing. It's fair since it's about how we became friends, after all. And he laughed in the right places and enjoyed it--and since he (and, by extension, Beth, who thought it was very conversational and sounded like me) was the intended audience, I don't necessarily care whether or not I did well in imitating the model I picked.
If this section of the class is about us going out on a limb and writing stuff that actually matters, then it shouldn't really be about points and grades and little check marks. That story has meaning for me and for the people I wrote it for, and if my teacher has a problem with that, so be it. If the class is supposed to be about growing us as writers and helping us to develop our own particular narrative voice, then I think my paper meets those goals. It's the story I wanted to tell, and it's the way I want to tell it. So be it.
I had a lot of fun with them this afternoon--and it's on days like today that I wonder why I have a job in the basement of the library. :D (I enjoy my job, though; it's a place of many fascinating conversations.)
More later.
--Ashlee
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A Busy Two Weeks (Or So)
4-14-10
Sonrise went very well; I was surprised to have even the faintest attempt of a voice the next day, and it completely recovered in four or five days. My feet got very dirty, I got slightly sunburnt, and I slept like a rock, but it was completely worth it to tell the greatest Story ever.
Last Wednesday, I checked my cell phone upon leaving American History II, and discovered a voicemail (which is odd, for people rarely call me). It was from my school's education department, telling me that they'd made a mistake in assigning my admission to the program interview date and the only time open was that evening. Of course, I accepted the change, e-mailed my work supervisor to say I'd have to take a half hour off to go to my interview, and changed before work. My interview went very well (even though my voice was still a tiny bit raspy from Sonrise), and I got an e-mail stating that they will be recommending me for acceptance into the teacher education program. Yay!
After that, I went to a four-hour-long Sonrise debrief, on account of the fact that I supposedly was an assistant scene director. Not that I'd felt like one, really, until the day of, and that was because I was trying to be helpful. Also, do I know anything about directing people? Nope, not really. But I got free pizza and helped go through various issues that always (seemingly) come up.
On Thursday last, I spoke at the student missions class as the "returned SM." I had a slideshow of Ebeye running in the background, and I spoke about the fact that if a person is where God wants them to be, it doesn't really matter what that place is. Also, you are where you are, not where you were, not where you planned to be (sometimes), and not where you're going to be. Look for the good, acknowledge the bad, deal with what you can, and give the rest to God. Basically, that was my point. It was also funny to see eyes get wide and hear little gasps of air when I gave my regular description of the island ("a mile long, a city block or so wide, and has 15,000 people").
Thursday and Friday we had Wind Symphony practices, I enjoyed vespers, and on Sabbath morning, I got up to get ready to play with the Wind Symphony at church for the first two services. I was about to get in the shower when one of my suitemates wanted to use the bathroom. I left the door open and climbed into the shower, then reached out and pulled the door open a little to let her know that I was in the shower. I must have strained/hurt/something my shoulder because it hurt very badly all of a sudden.
I tried to run it under the water to soothe it, but the pain traveled up into my head (that's the best description I have of what the pain did). My vision got sort of blurry, and so I leaned against the wall opposite of the shower head because it hurt so bad. I was like, "This is weird."
The next thing I knew, I was on the floor outside of the shower. I thought two things: "Why am I on the floor?" and "I'm getting the mat wet; I need to get back into the shower." (I am not kidding, that's what I thought.) The suitemate asked me if I was okay and I said that I was fine. I got back into the shower, saying that that was weird. My hands felt all tingly and then I was on the floor again. Then I tried to get back up and fell again. I was really scared but figured, "Hey, I need to get this shower done with and then get ready for band."
My roommate was there all of a sudden, and I kept saying, "I'm fine, I'm fine, this is weird, I don't know why this is happening," etc., and she said, "Ashlee, your back is bleeding. You need to get out of the shower and sit down," and handed me my towel. I made it to my chair. I drank some water and succeeded in getting dressed while my suitemates and roommate called one of the deans, who called the ambulance. My roommate then called my band director and told him that she wasn't letting me go to band because I had fainted four times and needed to get checked out at the hospital.
I was glad I'd been able to get dressed because the dean, a Campus Safety officer, two volunteer fire department gals (one of which lives two doors down from me with the girl I lived with last semester when she's not volunteering), and then two EMTs were all crowded into my dorm room, along with my roommate and suitemates.
My blood pressure got checked like fifty million times and they kept asking me questions (I realized later that they were doing so because they were afraid that I had possibly gotten a concussion because I'd hit my head at least twice). I was feeling better, but I decided to go to the hospital to get checked out. So I've now had my first ambulance ride. The EMT with me was really nice. He joked with me, got my information, checked my blood sugar, and such. (A sign of how better I was already feeling was the fact that I thought, "Hey, how can I use this in a story?" No joke.)
At the ER, they ran blood work and did a CT scan, among some other things. I sat there with my roommate (who'd followed the ambulance in her car) for about four or five hours or so. Everything came back clean. The doctor, who'd predicted that outcome (since I'd been improving), said that about 20% of healthy people will randomly faint for no reason, and ordered that I chill in bed for the rest of the day. So I had to cancel helping at the student missions retreat (which I'd really wanted to do) and stayed in bed most of the day.
Total sum of injuries: two bumps on the back of the head (one bigger, under my hair on the left side, and one smaller, behind my right ear), a stiff shoulder (the one I pulled/strained/something a muscle in), some cuts on my back from smashing the container I keep some of my tolietries in, and a sore ankle (I think I caught it on the lip of the shower when I fell out of it). Also, I have learned a lot about syncope (the fancy doctor-word for fainting) from the doctor and from medical websites.
I was still able to play in our Wind Symphony concert on Sunday night, and my director was glad that I was okay and told me that, even if I had been the one to call him, he would have told me to go to the hospital instead of coming to play at church. I haven't really exercised like I'm supposed to for Fitness for Life because at first I still felt a little out of sorts and had a slight headache and then my stupid ankle (which has also shown improvement). However, I feel much better and will do my Post-Assessment in Fitness for Life tomorrow afternoon, even if I have to take some ibuprofen to do so.
So I had a busy weekend after some busy weeks. But I am fine, and even though we don't know the reason why I fainted (which was the first--and hopefully the only--time I've fainted), I'm okay. Sometimes I forget that I have goose eggs on the back of my head and accidentally jar them, but that's just an indication that they're not hurting. Yay!!
Off to bed.
More later.
Sonrise went very well; I was surprised to have even the faintest attempt of a voice the next day, and it completely recovered in four or five days. My feet got very dirty, I got slightly sunburnt, and I slept like a rock, but it was completely worth it to tell the greatest Story ever.
Last Wednesday, I checked my cell phone upon leaving American History II, and discovered a voicemail (which is odd, for people rarely call me). It was from my school's education department, telling me that they'd made a mistake in assigning my admission to the program interview date and the only time open was that evening. Of course, I accepted the change, e-mailed my work supervisor to say I'd have to take a half hour off to go to my interview, and changed before work. My interview went very well (even though my voice was still a tiny bit raspy from Sonrise), and I got an e-mail stating that they will be recommending me for acceptance into the teacher education program. Yay!
After that, I went to a four-hour-long Sonrise debrief, on account of the fact that I supposedly was an assistant scene director. Not that I'd felt like one, really, until the day of, and that was because I was trying to be helpful. Also, do I know anything about directing people? Nope, not really. But I got free pizza and helped go through various issues that always (seemingly) come up.
On Thursday last, I spoke at the student missions class as the "returned SM." I had a slideshow of Ebeye running in the background, and I spoke about the fact that if a person is where God wants them to be, it doesn't really matter what that place is. Also, you are where you are, not where you were, not where you planned to be (sometimes), and not where you're going to be. Look for the good, acknowledge the bad, deal with what you can, and give the rest to God. Basically, that was my point. It was also funny to see eyes get wide and hear little gasps of air when I gave my regular description of the island ("a mile long, a city block or so wide, and has 15,000 people").
Thursday and Friday we had Wind Symphony practices, I enjoyed vespers, and on Sabbath morning, I got up to get ready to play with the Wind Symphony at church for the first two services. I was about to get in the shower when one of my suitemates wanted to use the bathroom. I left the door open and climbed into the shower, then reached out and pulled the door open a little to let her know that I was in the shower. I must have strained/hurt/something my shoulder because it hurt very badly all of a sudden.
I tried to run it under the water to soothe it, but the pain traveled up into my head (that's the best description I have of what the pain did). My vision got sort of blurry, and so I leaned against the wall opposite of the shower head because it hurt so bad. I was like, "This is weird."
The next thing I knew, I was on the floor outside of the shower. I thought two things: "Why am I on the floor?" and "I'm getting the mat wet; I need to get back into the shower." (I am not kidding, that's what I thought.) The suitemate asked me if I was okay and I said that I was fine. I got back into the shower, saying that that was weird. My hands felt all tingly and then I was on the floor again. Then I tried to get back up and fell again. I was really scared but figured, "Hey, I need to get this shower done with and then get ready for band."
My roommate was there all of a sudden, and I kept saying, "I'm fine, I'm fine, this is weird, I don't know why this is happening," etc., and she said, "Ashlee, your back is bleeding. You need to get out of the shower and sit down," and handed me my towel. I made it to my chair. I drank some water and succeeded in getting dressed while my suitemates and roommate called one of the deans, who called the ambulance. My roommate then called my band director and told him that she wasn't letting me go to band because I had fainted four times and needed to get checked out at the hospital.
I was glad I'd been able to get dressed because the dean, a Campus Safety officer, two volunteer fire department gals (one of which lives two doors down from me with the girl I lived with last semester when she's not volunteering), and then two EMTs were all crowded into my dorm room, along with my roommate and suitemates.
My blood pressure got checked like fifty million times and they kept asking me questions (I realized later that they were doing so because they were afraid that I had possibly gotten a concussion because I'd hit my head at least twice). I was feeling better, but I decided to go to the hospital to get checked out. So I've now had my first ambulance ride. The EMT with me was really nice. He joked with me, got my information, checked my blood sugar, and such. (A sign of how better I was already feeling was the fact that I thought, "Hey, how can I use this in a story?" No joke.)
At the ER, they ran blood work and did a CT scan, among some other things. I sat there with my roommate (who'd followed the ambulance in her car) for about four or five hours or so. Everything came back clean. The doctor, who'd predicted that outcome (since I'd been improving), said that about 20% of healthy people will randomly faint for no reason, and ordered that I chill in bed for the rest of the day. So I had to cancel helping at the student missions retreat (which I'd really wanted to do) and stayed in bed most of the day.
Total sum of injuries: two bumps on the back of the head (one bigger, under my hair on the left side, and one smaller, behind my right ear), a stiff shoulder (the one I pulled/strained/something a muscle in), some cuts on my back from smashing the container I keep some of my tolietries in, and a sore ankle (I think I caught it on the lip of the shower when I fell out of it). Also, I have learned a lot about syncope (the fancy doctor-word for fainting) from the doctor and from medical websites.
I was still able to play in our Wind Symphony concert on Sunday night, and my director was glad that I was okay and told me that, even if I had been the one to call him, he would have told me to go to the hospital instead of coming to play at church. I haven't really exercised like I'm supposed to for Fitness for Life because at first I still felt a little out of sorts and had a slight headache and then my stupid ankle (which has also shown improvement). However, I feel much better and will do my Post-Assessment in Fitness for Life tomorrow afternoon, even if I have to take some ibuprofen to do so.
So I had a busy weekend after some busy weeks. But I am fine, and even though we don't know the reason why I fainted (which was the first--and hopefully the only--time I've fainted), I'm okay. Sometimes I forget that I have goose eggs on the back of my head and accidentally jar them, but that's just an indication that they're not hurting. Yay!!
Off to bed.
More later.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Nervousness
3-19-10
Give me a new, harder piece of music, point me out to everyone, put me in a different section of the room--and see me sweat. Palms, mostly. Also, it can't be seen, but my brain is like spazzing with wondrous phrases like, "Oh, great, what if I screw up like last time? Never mind, I shall play great! Doesn't the violin sound so pretty? Wow, she probably practices a lot more than I do, and I've been practicing a lot..." all while counting my measures of rest. Measures of playing are something entirely different--then I'm focused on what I'm doing, and not on the future notes. Still, I get all jittery and palm-sweaty. It's really annoying, especially since we all know that I've tackled the part. Everyone's heard it at least once, and I've heard it in the practice room I don't know how many times. Argh.
It's as if I haven't been playing bass clarinet since I was a sixth-grader.
Here I am, fretting over descending triplets in two, when I used to be a decent clarinet player who switched to some massive, mysterious instrument that I couldn't even make a middle C on and fell in love. Granted, there was a lot of what I call "bump, bump" music for my part (it is a bass clarinet, after all), but I still love playing it. That's the reason I've been practicing every day but Sabbaths since spring break. And I've improved, too. I like playing that section, even if it has frustrated me to almost no end for a month or so.
But I'm flabbergasted at the fact that, in orchestra, I sit next to a high school junior who completely schools me on the clarinet. He told me that he practices 3-4 hours a day. I thought he was a college student--but no, he's homeschooling and plans to be a music major when he goes to college. (At least that explains how he has so much time for practicing. I certainly didn't have that much time for practicing in high school. Nor could I spend two days going to lessons six hours away.) He's a pretty amazing player.
I couldn't play as well as he can--but I'm not playing his part. I'm playing my part, and I do decently well at it. I enjoy playing it, especially when people tell me that I'm doing well. That whole words of affirmation thing. Then again, it helps me when nothing negative is said, too. It's almost as good as saying something encouraging.
I sure hope and pray that it goes well on Sunday.
More later.
Give me a new, harder piece of music, point me out to everyone, put me in a different section of the room--and see me sweat. Palms, mostly. Also, it can't be seen, but my brain is like spazzing with wondrous phrases like, "Oh, great, what if I screw up like last time? Never mind, I shall play great! Doesn't the violin sound so pretty? Wow, she probably practices a lot more than I do, and I've been practicing a lot..." all while counting my measures of rest. Measures of playing are something entirely different--then I'm focused on what I'm doing, and not on the future notes. Still, I get all jittery and palm-sweaty. It's really annoying, especially since we all know that I've tackled the part. Everyone's heard it at least once, and I've heard it in the practice room I don't know how many times. Argh.
It's as if I haven't been playing bass clarinet since I was a sixth-grader.
Here I am, fretting over descending triplets in two, when I used to be a decent clarinet player who switched to some massive, mysterious instrument that I couldn't even make a middle C on and fell in love. Granted, there was a lot of what I call "bump, bump" music for my part (it is a bass clarinet, after all), but I still love playing it. That's the reason I've been practicing every day but Sabbaths since spring break. And I've improved, too. I like playing that section, even if it has frustrated me to almost no end for a month or so.
But I'm flabbergasted at the fact that, in orchestra, I sit next to a high school junior who completely schools me on the clarinet. He told me that he practices 3-4 hours a day. I thought he was a college student--but no, he's homeschooling and plans to be a music major when he goes to college. (At least that explains how he has so much time for practicing. I certainly didn't have that much time for practicing in high school. Nor could I spend two days going to lessons six hours away.) He's a pretty amazing player.
I couldn't play as well as he can--but I'm not playing his part. I'm playing my part, and I do decently well at it. I enjoy playing it, especially when people tell me that I'm doing well. That whole words of affirmation thing. Then again, it helps me when nothing negative is said, too. It's almost as good as saying something encouraging.
I sure hope and pray that it goes well on Sunday.
More later.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
I Really Hate Picking Titles for Things
3-17-10
Especially when the contents are varied, such as these shall be.
First, I mostly got right the solo part I was epically failing a few weeks ago. I need to not mentally freak out and play something shorter than it needs to be--or else suffer glare of "That's NOT what it sounds like." So, after this blog post is done, I go forth to practice.
Second, I have run a mile in 12:45. Yippee. That makes me excited.
Third, today is St. Patrick's Day. I am wearing both green and orange. For I am Protestant, but it is tradition to wear green (and I have no desire to get pinched because I'm wearing the wrong color). Perhaps, for some, it's part of the fun, but it was never part of the fun for me. *sigh* I wonder if people will notice. Probably, since they sort of clash. A little. The colors, I mean. What do I care what people think of my outfit? I DON'T. [insert_evilish_laughter_here]
Fourth, the time change has really been messing with me this year. I hope for some sunshine today; it might make adjusting a little easier. I have felt 'off' all week.
More later.
Especially when the contents are varied, such as these shall be.
First, I mostly got right the solo part I was epically failing a few weeks ago. I need to not mentally freak out and play something shorter than it needs to be--or else suffer glare of "That's NOT what it sounds like." So, after this blog post is done, I go forth to practice.
Second, I have run a mile in 12:45. Yippee. That makes me excited.
Third, today is St. Patrick's Day. I am wearing both green and orange. For I am Protestant, but it is tradition to wear green (and I have no desire to get pinched because I'm wearing the wrong color). Perhaps, for some, it's part of the fun, but it was never part of the fun for me. *sigh* I wonder if people will notice. Probably, since they sort of clash. A little. The colors, I mean. What do I care what people think of my outfit? I DON'T. [insert_evilish_laughter_here]
Fourth, the time change has really been messing with me this year. I hope for some sunshine today; it might make adjusting a little easier. I have felt 'off' all week.
More later.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
EPIC FAIL (and a Reminder)
2-18-10 [This is a long post. Beware if you have no time.]
So, have you ever had one of those dreams where it's like the first day of school and you're all of a sudden not wearing any pants? Or a dream where you are doing something that you're good at and then you're not, for some reason? Dreams certainly seem to work that way, anyway.
Real life does too, sometimes. I was asked to play with Southern's Symphony Orchestra at their next concert, based on the presupposition that since I play my bass clarinet in Wind Symphony, I can play my bass clarinet with the orchestra. I was given the piece of music a week ago, played around with it last Friday (while prepping for the wind symphony concert), agreed on Monday to play, started practicing it and going to orchestra rehearsal on Tuesday, practiced more yesterday, had class today, and practiced for an hour and a half on the piece. It's the only piece I'm playing with them, and it's certainly bordering on more than enough.
I come to rehearsal on Tuesday, never hearing the piece recently (I heard it performed in like fourth grade), having tried to practice it that morning but not knowing how fast it went, and was told where to sit. The director (who is sort of intimidating to me, but I don't know why) introduced me to everyone else and said that I'd be tackling this piece, which will stretch me. (By the end of the practice, I decided that I'll be stretched on a rack by the piece. No joke.) I've never played under her direction before, I've never played with strings before, I've never played with six sharps before (no joke, six sharps), everyone else has had the music for a week and a half, the concert is in three weeks, and I barely played on Tuesday. I felt like I was blushing the entire time, and it felt like every single one of my mistakes was hearable by every single person in the room.
Yesterday we didn't have wind symphony, so I took the opportunity to practice during the "free" time (no time is "free" in university). I was making progress with the part that's labeled "Solo" on the third movement, and I was doing pretty well speed-wise and everything (because it's a fast movement). This morning I practiced for an hour, and a good portion of that time was devoted to that section because I knew that I wanted to get that one down, even if I hadn't played it in class yet. I went and took my linguistics test, got done a little early, and snagged another half hour of practice (if you can't tell, I'm planning to tackle this until I've got it beat). In the practice room I could play this solo part, which is a bunch of descending eighth notes in 2/2 times, so it's more like triplets. It's staccato, there's those sharps to deal with (I play G-sharp, F-sharp, D-sharp, C-sharp, and A-sharp in the descending part), and it's fast. In the practice room, I played it well, without stumbling over the notes, screwing over the fingerings, or running out of breath.
Then I came to rehearsal this evening, and we played that movement.
I was excited because I knew that I had gotten the part in the practice room, but I'm not sure entirely what happened. I was nervous, true, but I've had other solos before and the palms of my hands weren't sweaty then. Nor have my hands EVER slipped all over my keys, squeaking and rasping my way to awkward pauses and fumblings. EVEN THOUGH I GOT IT IN THE PRACTICE ROOM. The director had me start at where I came in, and the same thing happened again. My heart was pounding super-fast (even though my resting heart rate has dropped with all the interval training I've been doing for Fitness for Life), and I was feeling really stupid. Also, I realized that the section is almost completely naked. It's mostly just me. My playing has almost never been that exposed, except in "Mary's Boy Child," and that was a piece of cake compared to "On The Trail."
The director just waved her hand, said, "We'll work on that," and we kept playing. The next place the sequence appeared, I screwed it up again. Then at the next spot, I did it again, although part of that one can be justified because the notes are slightly different than the other two times. But STILL, I screwed up again. Needless to state, but I'll do it anyway, I was very frustrated. Am still very frustrated.
I went and practiced for another half hour. A friend came by and ended up hugging me and encouraging me to keep doing because I could do it (especially because she'd heard me play that section as she came up to the practice room I was in). Also, I had partially burst into tears. I'm going to practice again tomorrow morning. And on Sunday. And like every day but Sabbath, even during Spring Break. I'm going to destroy that section, even if it means that I memorize it and play it while my eyes are closed and I don't even look at the director (or only looking at the director, whatever). I already practically have it memorized.
What frustrated me the most was myself. I learned a lot last year, and one of the things that I learned was that my worth comes from God, not from other people. I did not have to be afraid of what others think. But I realized that part of my problems tonight came from the fact that I was in a new environment and freaking out over being surrounded by musicians who (as I realized) I thought are much better than myself.
I kept worrying about the fact that here I am, surrounded by these people (a good number of which are my friends) and thinking, "Oh, crap. She asked me to play, and here I am, playing like I just started playing on this when I've been playing since sixth grade and what are they going to think oh why did I ever say yes I am so going to die from embarrassment and I know I got this in the practice room and why can't I get it now why are my hands slipping on the keys this is retarded and this sucks and I suck and I can't ever get this but I got it earlier everyone is watching they will all think I am a terrible bass clarinetist they will think why did mrs. minner ever ask her to play on this piece..." etc. etc. ad nauseum.
So, I'm also frustrated at this evil thoughts attack when I know that their opinion of me doesn't matter, not as much as my brain keeps telling me that it does. So, after I practiced more, and went back upstairs to discover everyone to be gone (much to my relief), I cleaned and put my instrument away, trying to keep tears from spilling.
There I was sitting there, and this little voice whispered, This is like scuba diving. That was hard, too, but now you're a certified diver to 130 feet. If you'd quit that when it got tough, would you have done that?
I felt argumentative with the little voice; diving had been something new, something that I'd never tried before, something that I was utterly incompetent in (even if I'd passed the book's tests). This was different because I already knew how to play the bass clarinet; I've been playing since I was twelve, and--
But you've had the music for a week, them for two. You've never played with this many sharps or with so many high notes before. There's lots of parallels between this and scuba--and what was the real reason you wanted to quit scuba?
Because I thought I'd fail, because I thought I'd look bad to everyone else taking the class, because I thought I'd look stupid to my fellows SMs.
Exactly. Now get over yourself and tackle that piece. You can do it. Now go do homework.
And I came back and I've done my homework and I wrote this post and I'm going to bed. Why? So I can get up, exercise at Hulsey, get ready for class and eat breakfast, go practice for at least a short while, and then go to class. I am determined that this piece will not defeat me, even if I feel as if I'm on a rack.
More later.
So, have you ever had one of those dreams where it's like the first day of school and you're all of a sudden not wearing any pants? Or a dream where you are doing something that you're good at and then you're not, for some reason? Dreams certainly seem to work that way, anyway.
Real life does too, sometimes. I was asked to play with Southern's Symphony Orchestra at their next concert, based on the presupposition that since I play my bass clarinet in Wind Symphony, I can play my bass clarinet with the orchestra. I was given the piece of music a week ago, played around with it last Friday (while prepping for the wind symphony concert), agreed on Monday to play, started practicing it and going to orchestra rehearsal on Tuesday, practiced more yesterday, had class today, and practiced for an hour and a half on the piece. It's the only piece I'm playing with them, and it's certainly bordering on more than enough.
I come to rehearsal on Tuesday, never hearing the piece recently (I heard it performed in like fourth grade), having tried to practice it that morning but not knowing how fast it went, and was told where to sit. The director (who is sort of intimidating to me, but I don't know why) introduced me to everyone else and said that I'd be tackling this piece, which will stretch me. (By the end of the practice, I decided that I'll be stretched on a rack by the piece. No joke.) I've never played under her direction before, I've never played with strings before, I've never played with six sharps before (no joke, six sharps), everyone else has had the music for a week and a half, the concert is in three weeks, and I barely played on Tuesday. I felt like I was blushing the entire time, and it felt like every single one of my mistakes was hearable by every single person in the room.
Yesterday we didn't have wind symphony, so I took the opportunity to practice during the "free" time (no time is "free" in university). I was making progress with the part that's labeled "Solo" on the third movement, and I was doing pretty well speed-wise and everything (because it's a fast movement). This morning I practiced for an hour, and a good portion of that time was devoted to that section because I knew that I wanted to get that one down, even if I hadn't played it in class yet. I went and took my linguistics test, got done a little early, and snagged another half hour of practice (if you can't tell, I'm planning to tackle this until I've got it beat). In the practice room I could play this solo part, which is a bunch of descending eighth notes in 2/2 times, so it's more like triplets. It's staccato, there's those sharps to deal with (I play G-sharp, F-sharp, D-sharp, C-sharp, and A-sharp in the descending part), and it's fast. In the practice room, I played it well, without stumbling over the notes, screwing over the fingerings, or running out of breath.
Then I came to rehearsal this evening, and we played that movement.
I was excited because I knew that I had gotten the part in the practice room, but I'm not sure entirely what happened. I was nervous, true, but I've had other solos before and the palms of my hands weren't sweaty then. Nor have my hands EVER slipped all over my keys, squeaking and rasping my way to awkward pauses and fumblings. EVEN THOUGH I GOT IT IN THE PRACTICE ROOM. The director had me start at where I came in, and the same thing happened again. My heart was pounding super-fast (even though my resting heart rate has dropped with all the interval training I've been doing for Fitness for Life), and I was feeling really stupid. Also, I realized that the section is almost completely naked. It's mostly just me. My playing has almost never been that exposed, except in "Mary's Boy Child," and that was a piece of cake compared to "On The Trail."
The director just waved her hand, said, "We'll work on that," and we kept playing. The next place the sequence appeared, I screwed it up again. Then at the next spot, I did it again, although part of that one can be justified because the notes are slightly different than the other two times. But STILL, I screwed up again. Needless to state, but I'll do it anyway, I was very frustrated. Am still very frustrated.
I went and practiced for another half hour. A friend came by and ended up hugging me and encouraging me to keep doing because I could do it (especially because she'd heard me play that section as she came up to the practice room I was in). Also, I had partially burst into tears. I'm going to practice again tomorrow morning. And on Sunday. And like every day but Sabbath, even during Spring Break. I'm going to destroy that section, even if it means that I memorize it and play it while my eyes are closed and I don't even look at the director (or only looking at the director, whatever). I already practically have it memorized.
What frustrated me the most was myself. I learned a lot last year, and one of the things that I learned was that my worth comes from God, not from other people. I did not have to be afraid of what others think. But I realized that part of my problems tonight came from the fact that I was in a new environment and freaking out over being surrounded by musicians who (as I realized) I thought are much better than myself.
I kept worrying about the fact that here I am, surrounded by these people (a good number of which are my friends) and thinking, "Oh, crap. She asked me to play, and here I am, playing like I just started playing on this when I've been playing since sixth grade and what are they going to think oh why did I ever say yes I am so going to die from embarrassment and I know I got this in the practice room and why can't I get it now why are my hands slipping on the keys this is retarded and this sucks and I suck and I can't ever get this but I got it earlier everyone is watching they will all think I am a terrible bass clarinetist they will think why did mrs. minner ever ask her to play on this piece..." etc. etc. ad nauseum.
So, I'm also frustrated at this evil thoughts attack when I know that their opinion of me doesn't matter, not as much as my brain keeps telling me that it does. So, after I practiced more, and went back upstairs to discover everyone to be gone (much to my relief), I cleaned and put my instrument away, trying to keep tears from spilling.
There I was sitting there, and this little voice whispered, This is like scuba diving. That was hard, too, but now you're a certified diver to 130 feet. If you'd quit that when it got tough, would you have done that?
I felt argumentative with the little voice; diving had been something new, something that I'd never tried before, something that I was utterly incompetent in (even if I'd passed the book's tests). This was different because I already knew how to play the bass clarinet; I've been playing since I was twelve, and--
But you've had the music for a week, them for two. You've never played with this many sharps or with so many high notes before. There's lots of parallels between this and scuba--and what was the real reason you wanted to quit scuba?
Because I thought I'd fail, because I thought I'd look bad to everyone else taking the class, because I thought I'd look stupid to my fellows SMs.
Exactly. Now get over yourself and tackle that piece. You can do it. Now go do homework.
And I came back and I've done my homework and I wrote this post and I'm going to bed. Why? So I can get up, exercise at Hulsey, get ready for class and eat breakfast, go practice for at least a short while, and then go to class. I am determined that this piece will not defeat me, even if I feel as if I'm on a rack.
More later.
Yes, that's me in my scuba gear. It's now my background picture to remind me of what I wrote above.
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