i believe it has died. it was a hand-me-down from wonderful partner. it's at least four years old, if not five. so, as electronics go these days, we've had a good run.
but i am distraught. being that singing along to ipod has been one of my ways to convince myself i'm not steeped in mania or depression. i never even got a chance to name her. poor ipod. now you will be a very expensive paper weight.
as a stop gap, i have dug up my old discman. listening to cds in their entirety is so very different. SOOOOO different. my "shuffle" mind gets a little confused when the same voice comes on, yet again! i think, wait a second, my computer isn't "random!" oh, yeah.
i was tempted to set up a fund on here to beg for money to buy a new ipod. like a mental health thing. "gimme money so i don't go crazy listening to my thoughts!" but i can't do that in good conscience. i will endure with my out-moded technology for my car travels. it's okay. i'm okay!
i will be fine. so, instead of giving me money for my ipod, i thought, hell, peeps should shell out to help all those folks who have been hit by those damn tornadoes. (this post now takes a different turn.) i once lived through a tornado. it tempered my fear a bit. but ever since i was a child and up to this day, tornadoes are the most terrifying natural disaster to me. and i used to live in super-duper earthquake country. i watched kobe burn in 1995. still, tornadoes are the scariest.
i wish i could be a well-informed blogger and have info here to tell you where to put yer money. i don't, just yet. i do want to link to professor blackwoman's post on the matter. if i can find out a local somewhat obscure yet awesome org, i promise to post it here. (if you know of such orgs, please post in comment.) but for now, i've sent a meager, meager amount to the red cross. you can, too.
just wanted to finally note: this is too many huge natural disasters in too few years.
in my logical mind, there are three possible reasons for this: coincidence, armageddon, and global warming. i've ruled out coincidence because, it's just really too much. and i'm not a christian, and even if i were, i'd be the kind that didn't believe in hell or blanket events full of wrath and judgement. so that rules out armageddon. so, global warming (and i use that instead of the stupid term, "climate change"--"climate crisis" is okay, tho'). hot enough?
and that makes me think about how i was listening to japanese news today at the store and they had very robust coverage of the storm/tornado damage. just as much, if not more/better than our own media. and then theres that solipsist dipshit in the whitehouse who has watched this happen. fucker. i wrote a few weeks back that i love america. that's what makes it hurt so much when i hate it like i do now.
i wish ipod was still alive, so i could sing yuka honda's "god bless america" really loud.
"in this pile-of-waste-filled land."
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
arts stuff
it's super-fat tuesday, but we here in texas aren't voting, so. i'm taking a cue from wofflings and sharing this link. the dumb-ass monkey in the white house is proposing massive budget cuts in the arts (except for museums), including arts education (which is actually being eliminated), nea, neh and public tv and radio. look at woff's post for a good analysis. arts funding has been eroding for decades now. we artists feel it. and one day, all the visionary artists will suddenly realize that this country hates us, and we will stage a mass exodus to anywhere else--australia, japan, belize. that will be the day art dies in america. it would be nice to prevent this. please write stuff to your congress people.
tenks,
kt
tenks,
kt
Monday, February 4, 2008
on infidelity
i'm telling you because, well, i knew you would find out somehow. so i thought it would be better if you heard it directly from me.
i....
i started a blog on myspace. sigh. i know. yes. the one with the goth highschool kids and the bands and the famously unworthy dane cooks. i know. i knew better.
it started out harmless enough. we just flirted. i got a page because all the other artists had them. but i didn't get involved. in fact, i really disliked it. repulsed by it even. i would actively ignore it.
but then, something happened. i started getting friend requests from people who were not trying to sell me get-rich-quick schemes. i started making connections with people. like my cousin. and started learning strange tidbits of information about people i only kinda sorta knew. and then it went outta control.
it made me feel like i knew these people. like they could know me. like somehow seeing scrolling slide shows of their weddings and their kittens and their strange antics that involved gum, magnets, and a pineapple... it was like i knew their kittens and their husbands and their gum, magnets, and pineapples.
and then, it happened. i posted a blog. and i knew that was the beginning.
but myspace means nothing to me, nothing! it's nothing like i have with you. i don't tell it my secrets. we don't have a...history. it is only words! mindless, meaningless words!
how was it?
it's, um... different.
i guess i wanted to feel younger. like i still had it. like i could talk like the cool kids and the hipsters. you know, use emoticons and only spell out every other word. i still don't like it very much. and it's not because you're not meeting my needs. i probably won't be blogging there much longer. you know, once the novelty runs out.
but still, i thought i'd ask. can we have an open blogging relationship?
i....
i started a blog on myspace. sigh. i know. yes. the one with the goth highschool kids and the bands and the famously unworthy dane cooks. i know. i knew better.
it started out harmless enough. we just flirted. i got a page because all the other artists had them. but i didn't get involved. in fact, i really disliked it. repulsed by it even. i would actively ignore it.
but then, something happened. i started getting friend requests from people who were not trying to sell me get-rich-quick schemes. i started making connections with people. like my cousin. and started learning strange tidbits of information about people i only kinda sorta knew. and then it went outta control.
it made me feel like i knew these people. like they could know me. like somehow seeing scrolling slide shows of their weddings and their kittens and their strange antics that involved gum, magnets, and a pineapple... it was like i knew their kittens and their husbands and their gum, magnets, and pineapples.
and then, it happened. i posted a blog. and i knew that was the beginning.
but myspace means nothing to me, nothing! it's nothing like i have with you. i don't tell it my secrets. we don't have a...history. it is only words! mindless, meaningless words!
how was it?
it's, um... different.
i guess i wanted to feel younger. like i still had it. like i could talk like the cool kids and the hipsters. you know, use emoticons and only spell out every other word. i still don't like it very much. and it's not because you're not meeting my needs. i probably won't be blogging there much longer. you know, once the novelty runs out.
but still, i thought i'd ask. can we have an open blogging relationship?
Sunday, February 3, 2008
on writing on creating on lists
i was looking at my planner and saw a little note at the top of the week that says, djerassi. this is my system for applying for things. write it in the week before. i guess that's what i'll be working on, the application for the djerassi residency. a very prestigious AIR program. right now, i'm tempted to apply for the composition residency, mostly because they have a special scholarship in honor of a japanese american composer. but, i also think it would be good to work on "una corda" musical musings at this residency. so, composition, right?
this is the multi-disciplinary perennial problem. i COULD apply as a composer. i COULD apply as a writer. i COULD apply as a performer in the "new media" category. hell, i COULD apply as a visual artist, although my portfolio of visual art is, in my opinion, "meh" at best. and then their's the whole time issue. it's an application for next year. what WILL kt be doing in 2009?
yes, i'll still be working on the opera. of course. but there are other things. may i take this opportunity to delineate my other projects? thanks. i knew you would say yes.
firstly, i have three short stories in my head at the moment. one is about half written. it has taken me a full year to finally find the voice of the narrator. she's a jerk. and it's hard to let the jerk come through and still make her sympathetic. i put that story on hold because two other stories suddenly decided to burst forth from my fingertips about a month ago. rude, rude stories! i wish i could tell my ideas to WAIT IN LINE!
the second short story, i've written about a page, and the voice is just not quite right. it's also difficult because for some reason, my characters want to be set in places that i don't know very well. i mean, i've known these places as an interloper, but i am not native to them (whatever that means). so that's what i'm grappling with for that.
and the third story only recently began to haunt me. when i was in high school, i was in love with this woman who was five years older than me. (she was in mathematical education at a prestigious teachers' college in japan, i needed help in math.) it was such a sordid relationship, i often forget that it happened. anyway, memories of this woman sometimes come back to me, in jagged fragments. and just the other day, i suddenly remembered one thing she told me, "you know what you should REALLY do if you ever want revenge..." so this short story is about what she told me i should do. the funny thing is, her suggestion was quite innocuous, really. unless you know what kind of person this woman was...
three short stories. and that's not covering the "novel." ah, yes. the novel. she started as a short story. a poetic, brief short story. then i started writing it and realized that the main character refused to reveal herself unless i went deeper and deeper into her past. upon reading the first five pages of my short story, my writing buddy looked at me, cocked her head, bit her lip, and said, "this is too much for a short story." shit. a novel. a fucking novel. i did a lot of research sometime in late summer. historical research. and then i tried writing while i was researching and the voice changed too much. writing buddy said, you have to let it sink into your subconscious. let it sit for six months. so that's what i've been doing. over christmas, i found a pendant at a craft fair that had the name of my main character on it. i grabbed the pendant and as i went up to the cashier, wonderful partner said, "what's that?" i said, "it's for my character. to remind me that i am still writing a novel about her." the pendant is hooked on my computer screen.
that's the fiction. and the opera. then there's that damn mail art piece i started a year ago. i have a few postcards, finished but sitting in my office unsent. and i have about 30 names still to send things to. i love this piece a lot. the thing is, i can see it going unfinished for some time. because i can't ever really see it stop being relevant. and new creative people come into my life by the day. proliferating creative types! can't you just stop reproducing so that i can organize and control you!
hmm. then there are the other pieces. like this george bush piece i started in 2002. it's the ugliest piece of shit ever. i've embraced the ugliness, but it's still not quite done. i keep telling myself, just pour some lighter fluid on it and set fire to it. run over it with the car. let the dog chew on it. i'm sure if i did any of these things, i would feel like it's done. but do i?
there's that video piece that i'd really like to start working on with my very talented video artist/puppeteer friend. and then there's a cache of videos that my alter ego DJ KeN-bO did for me. i have about five more clips like that. and all i need to do is take two afternoons and edit them down.
i suppose i AM doing one piece rather religiously. that piece is "artist wins the lotto." even though i don't care whether or not i hit the lotto anymore. but that's interesting, too, right?
oh. and i have two piano pieces. one started as a mistake when i was trying to practice chopin in Robertson in 1996. the other. when did i start that one? well, it was when i first became fascinated with stacked open fifths, so let's venture a guess of.... 1997? 1998? i think i'd need a commission to finish them. as i've written before, i'm scared shitless to finish music i can play myself. nothing like a little cash to get the creative juices, uh, flowing. i could commission myself. but the opera's already tying up my funds.
and then other things. fragments, bits and pieces. little secrets and soliloquies and confessions. strewn about my office, in my journals, across the wrinkles of my frontal lobe. so i ask you, in 2009 what CAN i possibly do?
(the wise question would be: what can't i?)
this is the multi-disciplinary perennial problem. i COULD apply as a composer. i COULD apply as a writer. i COULD apply as a performer in the "new media" category. hell, i COULD apply as a visual artist, although my portfolio of visual art is, in my opinion, "meh" at best. and then their's the whole time issue. it's an application for next year. what WILL kt be doing in 2009?
yes, i'll still be working on the opera. of course. but there are other things. may i take this opportunity to delineate my other projects? thanks. i knew you would say yes.
firstly, i have three short stories in my head at the moment. one is about half written. it has taken me a full year to finally find the voice of the narrator. she's a jerk. and it's hard to let the jerk come through and still make her sympathetic. i put that story on hold because two other stories suddenly decided to burst forth from my fingertips about a month ago. rude, rude stories! i wish i could tell my ideas to WAIT IN LINE!
the second short story, i've written about a page, and the voice is just not quite right. it's also difficult because for some reason, my characters want to be set in places that i don't know very well. i mean, i've known these places as an interloper, but i am not native to them (whatever that means). so that's what i'm grappling with for that.
and the third story only recently began to haunt me. when i was in high school, i was in love with this woman who was five years older than me. (she was in mathematical education at a prestigious teachers' college in japan, i needed help in math.) it was such a sordid relationship, i often forget that it happened. anyway, memories of this woman sometimes come back to me, in jagged fragments. and just the other day, i suddenly remembered one thing she told me, "you know what you should REALLY do if you ever want revenge..." so this short story is about what she told me i should do. the funny thing is, her suggestion was quite innocuous, really. unless you know what kind of person this woman was...
three short stories. and that's not covering the "novel." ah, yes. the novel. she started as a short story. a poetic, brief short story. then i started writing it and realized that the main character refused to reveal herself unless i went deeper and deeper into her past. upon reading the first five pages of my short story, my writing buddy looked at me, cocked her head, bit her lip, and said, "this is too much for a short story." shit. a novel. a fucking novel. i did a lot of research sometime in late summer. historical research. and then i tried writing while i was researching and the voice changed too much. writing buddy said, you have to let it sink into your subconscious. let it sit for six months. so that's what i've been doing. over christmas, i found a pendant at a craft fair that had the name of my main character on it. i grabbed the pendant and as i went up to the cashier, wonderful partner said, "what's that?" i said, "it's for my character. to remind me that i am still writing a novel about her." the pendant is hooked on my computer screen.
that's the fiction. and the opera. then there's that damn mail art piece i started a year ago. i have a few postcards, finished but sitting in my office unsent. and i have about 30 names still to send things to. i love this piece a lot. the thing is, i can see it going unfinished for some time. because i can't ever really see it stop being relevant. and new creative people come into my life by the day. proliferating creative types! can't you just stop reproducing so that i can organize and control you!
hmm. then there are the other pieces. like this george bush piece i started in 2002. it's the ugliest piece of shit ever. i've embraced the ugliness, but it's still not quite done. i keep telling myself, just pour some lighter fluid on it and set fire to it. run over it with the car. let the dog chew on it. i'm sure if i did any of these things, i would feel like it's done. but do i?
there's that video piece that i'd really like to start working on with my very talented video artist/puppeteer friend. and then there's a cache of videos that my alter ego DJ KeN-bO did for me. i have about five more clips like that. and all i need to do is take two afternoons and edit them down.
i suppose i AM doing one piece rather religiously. that piece is "artist wins the lotto." even though i don't care whether or not i hit the lotto anymore. but that's interesting, too, right?
oh. and i have two piano pieces. one started as a mistake when i was trying to practice chopin in Robertson in 1996. the other. when did i start that one? well, it was when i first became fascinated with stacked open fifths, so let's venture a guess of.... 1997? 1998? i think i'd need a commission to finish them. as i've written before, i'm scared shitless to finish music i can play myself. nothing like a little cash to get the creative juices, uh, flowing. i could commission myself. but the opera's already tying up my funds.
and then other things. fragments, bits and pieces. little secrets and soliloquies and confessions. strewn about my office, in my journals, across the wrinkles of my frontal lobe. so i ask you, in 2009 what CAN i possibly do?
(the wise question would be: what can't i?)
Saturday, February 2, 2008
on my body, myself
(note: if you don't want to hear about my body, my blood sugar, or my boobs [that might mean you, blood relatives!] please skip this entry)
i've lost weight. my scale has registered 149 twice in the last week. it's been a long time since i've weighed this little.
my weight loss is psuedo-intentional. both my docs (my pcp and my doc-for-down-there) have been getting on my case to lose weight since i am at high risk of diabetes. so, i've been half-heartedly changing some eating habits and stuff. but my multiple neuroses since the beginning of this year have actually enforced these habits. when i mentioned in passim that i was having trouble eating a couple of weeks ago, i didn't go into detail about how bad that was. in the last month, there have actually been days when i would have to force myself to eat. i've been trying to monitor this problem. i've also been trying to exploit it. some days, i feel like eating--a lot. so i do. i figure, so long as i average 1800 calories a day over a week, it's okay if i only eat 1200 on day and 2400 the next. and so, i've lost about 13 lbs since the new year.
i have complex feelings about this. on the one hand, 13 lbs is a bit much. it toes the line for "safe weightloss rate." but people who have only my health in their best interests have been telling me to lose weight. to get below 150. and besides, i've been thinking it would be helpful to lose weight for my role in this play. but i'm developing some dangerously cheerleader-like thoughts about my body and my appetite. i'm enjoying the weight loss, it's helping me look at myself in the mirror. and i'm beginning to enjoy the hunger pangs in my stomach--this is something i know is bad. and having worked in student affairs for several years (not to mention once dating a former anorexic), i know that this is a first sign of an eating disorder...
that said, i'm at HIGH risk of getting type 2 diabetes. everyone in my dad's birth family is genetically predisposed to obesity. in fact, my dad is the only one in his family who doesn't have diabetes. my dad, who probably ran an average of 30 miles a week when i was a child. who made running marathons seem like a matter of just paying the fee and wearing the tacky t-shirt. my endorphin-addicted dad who eventually started cycling when his knees started giving, this time averaging about 50 miles a week on his bike. my dad, who hiked the entirety of the appalachian trail, who managed to hit every state capitol between new england and south dakota on his bike until he had to stop because of high blood pressure. when he was in his mid-60s.
my mother's family is rather thin. but that's partly because they eat a japanese diet. that said, they are also genetically disposed to high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and, oh yeah, every type of cancer under the sun. woohoo!
so you can see why losing weight is generally good news, even if i'm worried about how fast it's happening and my emotional state around it.
and then, last week, out of the blue, wonderful partner asked me my cup size. now, most of you will know that i'm not about my boobs. i wear sports bras. because my main goal in using bras is for compression. so it's probably been at least a decade since i've measure out my cup size. i said, i dunno, c? then wonderful partner sighed and said, good. because i just read that women with cup sizes d and above are at even higher risk of diabetes. i looked for the article, it is here. phew, i said. then, the next day, i got curious and pulled out our measuring tape, found a website on measuring your bust size and calculated.
i'm a d. i might even be a dd. woohoo! i wish i was a girl. then i'd probably really be glad about all this. when i was little, i always thought i would be an illustrious member of the itty-bitty-titty-committee. but i wasn't. my friends would often voice that they wish they had my breasts. and i woud shrug. i've never much cared for my ta-tas, even if people i've been with thoroughly enjoy(ed) them.
but i am genuinely surprised. especially in light of my recent weight loss. i think that most of the weigh i've lost has been from my belly. this is great, but i wish i could just lose all my breast fat first. sigh.
shortly after my mom died, i was convinced that i would die of cancer. it's one of those things you think, right? i even quit smoking because of it (that lasted long!). but now i'm like, maybe i'll die of diabetes. i know you can't really die of diabetes. but i have morbid fantasies about losing parts of myself to diabetes, one limb at a time, until i became just a torso and a head. then again, no one really dies of cancer, either. they always die of "cancer-related complications." stupid shit like staph infections, pneumonia, or (in the case of my mom) a bump on the head.
who knows, i'll probably just choke on a chicken bone like mama cass.
all this thinking, though, has really reminded me that i've been living inside my body like i'm some type of guest. i've learned to accept that this is the body i will have for life. i've accepted it, but i still don't like it. i really, really wish i could.
i've lost weight. my scale has registered 149 twice in the last week. it's been a long time since i've weighed this little.
my weight loss is psuedo-intentional. both my docs (my pcp and my doc-for-down-there) have been getting on my case to lose weight since i am at high risk of diabetes. so, i've been half-heartedly changing some eating habits and stuff. but my multiple neuroses since the beginning of this year have actually enforced these habits. when i mentioned in passim that i was having trouble eating a couple of weeks ago, i didn't go into detail about how bad that was. in the last month, there have actually been days when i would have to force myself to eat. i've been trying to monitor this problem. i've also been trying to exploit it. some days, i feel like eating--a lot. so i do. i figure, so long as i average 1800 calories a day over a week, it's okay if i only eat 1200 on day and 2400 the next. and so, i've lost about 13 lbs since the new year.
i have complex feelings about this. on the one hand, 13 lbs is a bit much. it toes the line for "safe weightloss rate." but people who have only my health in their best interests have been telling me to lose weight. to get below 150. and besides, i've been thinking it would be helpful to lose weight for my role in this play. but i'm developing some dangerously cheerleader-like thoughts about my body and my appetite. i'm enjoying the weight loss, it's helping me look at myself in the mirror. and i'm beginning to enjoy the hunger pangs in my stomach--this is something i know is bad. and having worked in student affairs for several years (not to mention once dating a former anorexic), i know that this is a first sign of an eating disorder...
that said, i'm at HIGH risk of getting type 2 diabetes. everyone in my dad's birth family is genetically predisposed to obesity. in fact, my dad is the only one in his family who doesn't have diabetes. my dad, who probably ran an average of 30 miles a week when i was a child. who made running marathons seem like a matter of just paying the fee and wearing the tacky t-shirt. my endorphin-addicted dad who eventually started cycling when his knees started giving, this time averaging about 50 miles a week on his bike. my dad, who hiked the entirety of the appalachian trail, who managed to hit every state capitol between new england and south dakota on his bike until he had to stop because of high blood pressure. when he was in his mid-60s.
my mother's family is rather thin. but that's partly because they eat a japanese diet. that said, they are also genetically disposed to high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and, oh yeah, every type of cancer under the sun. woohoo!
so you can see why losing weight is generally good news, even if i'm worried about how fast it's happening and my emotional state around it.
and then, last week, out of the blue, wonderful partner asked me my cup size. now, most of you will know that i'm not about my boobs. i wear sports bras. because my main goal in using bras is for compression. so it's probably been at least a decade since i've measure out my cup size. i said, i dunno, c? then wonderful partner sighed and said, good. because i just read that women with cup sizes d and above are at even higher risk of diabetes. i looked for the article, it is here. phew, i said. then, the next day, i got curious and pulled out our measuring tape, found a website on measuring your bust size and calculated.
i'm a d. i might even be a dd. woohoo! i wish i was a girl. then i'd probably really be glad about all this. when i was little, i always thought i would be an illustrious member of the itty-bitty-titty-committee. but i wasn't. my friends would often voice that they wish they had my breasts. and i woud shrug. i've never much cared for my ta-tas, even if people i've been with thoroughly enjoy(ed) them.
but i am genuinely surprised. especially in light of my recent weight loss. i think that most of the weigh i've lost has been from my belly. this is great, but i wish i could just lose all my breast fat first. sigh.
shortly after my mom died, i was convinced that i would die of cancer. it's one of those things you think, right? i even quit smoking because of it (that lasted long!). but now i'm like, maybe i'll die of diabetes. i know you can't really die of diabetes. but i have morbid fantasies about losing parts of myself to diabetes, one limb at a time, until i became just a torso and a head. then again, no one really dies of cancer, either. they always die of "cancer-related complications." stupid shit like staph infections, pneumonia, or (in the case of my mom) a bump on the head.
who knows, i'll probably just choke on a chicken bone like mama cass.
all this thinking, though, has really reminded me that i've been living inside my body like i'm some type of guest. i've learned to accept that this is the body i will have for life. i've accepted it, but i still don't like it. i really, really wish i could.
Friday, February 1, 2008
on lessons
i was talking with lovely partner about how i actually turned in the grant. she is also facing a huge deadline and she asked me if i had any advice or wisdom to offer. we talked and then she said, "that's bloggable." so here i am. i don't want to seem preachy or anything, but i just wanted to share some things i've learned in the past couple weeks working on this application.
1. you WILL go crazy. resisting only makes the insanity worse. the best thing to do is find a relatively safe place to act out your craziness (i.e. your blog, rehearsal, conversation with a
mutually crazy friend, etc.) and just let the craziness wash over you. bask in it and set it free.
2. pay attention to your fatigue and anxieties/fears. be very careful about parsing them out. because fatigue and anxiety tend to look and feel very similar. but they need to be addressed and resolved in radically different ways. you must always heed your fatigue. you must rest, so long as time permits. but anxiety must be resisted and neutralized. sometimes addressing one alleviates the other. for me, walking the dogs helped my brain rest but also helped me talk with my fears and soothe them. the fear wants you to stop so that you don't have to move forward. the fatigue wants you to nurture yourself so that you can keep going. take care of them both.
3. you MUST ask for help. this has been a very difficult lesson for me to learn. This can take many forms. I asked for help from you, dear readers, on being accountable. i asked for help on the synthesis of the project by enlisting collaborators. i asked for help on the proposal by sending out drafts to friends who i knew could give me good advice. asking for help not only gets other people involved and shouldering some of your work, but it also gives you a sense of humility. and humility is what you need to actually finish, because otherwise, the perfectionist just keeps telling you that it's not good enough and you miss the deadline.
3a. that said, it's important to be mindful about how you ask for help. not everyone will have the desire, energy or space (timewise or emotionally) to help you. so you choose from whom you ask help wisely. you cast a wide net. i asked eight people to look at my draft. three people wrote back to me. and i was really touched by how detailed and generous their comments were. what these three said was more than enough.
i think that's it. any other deadline advice out there?
1. you WILL go crazy. resisting only makes the insanity worse. the best thing to do is find a relatively safe place to act out your craziness (i.e. your blog, rehearsal, conversation with a
mutually crazy friend, etc.) and just let the craziness wash over you. bask in it and set it free.
2. pay attention to your fatigue and anxieties/fears. be very careful about parsing them out. because fatigue and anxiety tend to look and feel very similar. but they need to be addressed and resolved in radically different ways. you must always heed your fatigue. you must rest, so long as time permits. but anxiety must be resisted and neutralized. sometimes addressing one alleviates the other. for me, walking the dogs helped my brain rest but also helped me talk with my fears and soothe them. the fear wants you to stop so that you don't have to move forward. the fatigue wants you to nurture yourself so that you can keep going. take care of them both.
3. you MUST ask for help. this has been a very difficult lesson for me to learn. This can take many forms. I asked for help from you, dear readers, on being accountable. i asked for help on the synthesis of the project by enlisting collaborators. i asked for help on the proposal by sending out drafts to friends who i knew could give me good advice. asking for help not only gets other people involved and shouldering some of your work, but it also gives you a sense of humility. and humility is what you need to actually finish, because otherwise, the perfectionist just keeps telling you that it's not good enough and you miss the deadline.
3a. that said, it's important to be mindful about how you ask for help. not everyone will have the desire, energy or space (timewise or emotionally) to help you. so you choose from whom you ask help wisely. you cast a wide net. i asked eight people to look at my draft. three people wrote back to me. and i was really touched by how detailed and generous their comments were. what these three said was more than enough.
i think that's it. any other deadline advice out there?
signed, sealed, delivered
the MAP proposal is in! i uploaded it and posted the works with several hours to spare! i'm done, baby!
thanks to corey, wura and ana l. for looking through my rough drafts. especially ana for sitting down and looking at my penultimate draft and helping me streamline the language. thank you, wonderful partner for reading it in the 11th hour and getting really excited about it. i really think the proposal is quite good. and thanks to yvan and eve for tolerating my last-minute request as collaborators on the piece. as a celebratory gesture, i am including parts of the project description here:
“Una Corda” is a five-part solo performance with live musicians and video meditating on the multiple facets of cancer.
The una corda pedal on the piano causes the instrument to strike only one string. The effect is a dampened sound that makes the piano whisper. People I know who have lived with cancer have talked about not quite feeling “one hundred percent”—still the same person, but muted, quieter, fuzzier. “Una corda” is also Italian for “one rope/thread.” Cancer often serves as the unwelcome but unifying thread amongst people of many different races, classes and sexualities—people who have never met but are somehow kin. My mother died of cancer six years ago. Only within the last year have I been able to examine that life-changing experience within my creative life. This project explores my own vulnerabilities as someone who has been touched profoundly by cancer. At the same time, it treats cancer as a social and aesthetic signifier invoking discourse about grief as a spiritual process, health care as a machine, and the different symbolisms of cancer within our collective societal memories.
...
My training as a singer is limited to sight-singing classes and membership in my conservatory chorus. However, as a conservatory-taught composer, I know the operatic canon and its stylistic traditions. This specialized knowledge but imperfect training underlies the main aesthetic of the project—one based on the tension between mastery, and failure. The imperfection, the awkwardness, and the visible struggle between my limitations and the medium fully engage the idea of cancer. Cancer is disruptive. It is unpredictable. It is “wonky.” Overarching ruptures in craft and skill interspersed with moments of virtuosity determine the profile of the piece.
The general structure is a setting of Latin Mass (i.e. Kyrie, Gloria, etc.). An original libretto is interspersed between and layered onto the Mass. Although the liturgical Mass genre comes with its own set of histories and conventions, I am interested in how the language of this genre changes and interacts with the genre of opera. As a set text, it intervenes in preventing any treatment of cancer from becoming too literal, clichéd or hackneyed. I am also deeply invested in the spirituality of Mass. It has been the vehicle for Catholic piety and corruption for centuries, rich with themes of transformation, epiphany, and redemption. While I set parts of the Latin Text in “traditional” chorales, other parts are set in radically new ways: sometimes throat-sung, sometimes whispered, sometimes piped through a computer voice. While this characteristically Catholic text is the organizing principle of the opera, I complicate and diffuse it by interjecting and layering the Buddhist ceremonies, chants and imagery I so closely associate with death and cancer.
...
On Process:
I will employ different techniques for the writing and composition processes. Some sections will begin with a libretto and then set to music. Other sections will consist of music and words created simultaneously, including structured improvisation and indeterminacy, as led by creative director, Yvan Greenberg. As the main performer of the piece, I will train with a vocal coach in multiple vocal techniques.
thanks to corey, wura and ana l. for looking through my rough drafts. especially ana for sitting down and looking at my penultimate draft and helping me streamline the language. thank you, wonderful partner for reading it in the 11th hour and getting really excited about it. i really think the proposal is quite good. and thanks to yvan and eve for tolerating my last-minute request as collaborators on the piece. as a celebratory gesture, i am including parts of the project description here:
“Una Corda” is a five-part solo performance with live musicians and video meditating on the multiple facets of cancer.
The una corda pedal on the piano causes the instrument to strike only one string. The effect is a dampened sound that makes the piano whisper. People I know who have lived with cancer have talked about not quite feeling “one hundred percent”—still the same person, but muted, quieter, fuzzier. “Una corda” is also Italian for “one rope/thread.” Cancer often serves as the unwelcome but unifying thread amongst people of many different races, classes and sexualities—people who have never met but are somehow kin. My mother died of cancer six years ago. Only within the last year have I been able to examine that life-changing experience within my creative life. This project explores my own vulnerabilities as someone who has been touched profoundly by cancer. At the same time, it treats cancer as a social and aesthetic signifier invoking discourse about grief as a spiritual process, health care as a machine, and the different symbolisms of cancer within our collective societal memories.
...
My training as a singer is limited to sight-singing classes and membership in my conservatory chorus. However, as a conservatory-taught composer, I know the operatic canon and its stylistic traditions. This specialized knowledge but imperfect training underlies the main aesthetic of the project—one based on the tension between mastery, and failure. The imperfection, the awkwardness, and the visible struggle between my limitations and the medium fully engage the idea of cancer. Cancer is disruptive. It is unpredictable. It is “wonky.” Overarching ruptures in craft and skill interspersed with moments of virtuosity determine the profile of the piece.
The general structure is a setting of Latin Mass (i.e. Kyrie, Gloria, etc.). An original libretto is interspersed between and layered onto the Mass. Although the liturgical Mass genre comes with its own set of histories and conventions, I am interested in how the language of this genre changes and interacts with the genre of opera. As a set text, it intervenes in preventing any treatment of cancer from becoming too literal, clichéd or hackneyed. I am also deeply invested in the spirituality of Mass. It has been the vehicle for Catholic piety and corruption for centuries, rich with themes of transformation, epiphany, and redemption. While I set parts of the Latin Text in “traditional” chorales, other parts are set in radically new ways: sometimes throat-sung, sometimes whispered, sometimes piped through a computer voice. While this characteristically Catholic text is the organizing principle of the opera, I complicate and diffuse it by interjecting and layering the Buddhist ceremonies, chants and imagery I so closely associate with death and cancer.
...
On Process:
I will employ different techniques for the writing and composition processes. Some sections will begin with a libretto and then set to music. Other sections will consist of music and words created simultaneously, including structured improvisation and indeterminacy, as led by creative director, Yvan Greenberg. As the main performer of the piece, I will train with a vocal coach in multiple vocal techniques.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
