Courtesy o' my pal/brother from another mother Brian (the one that married my best friend, not the one I date). And really, courtesy of a Mister Ludwig van Beethoven:
Courtesy o' my pal/brother from another mother Brian (the one that married my best friend, not the one I date). And really, courtesy of a Mister Ludwig van Beethoven:
My senior recital... was basically everything I hoped it would be. I can't even begin to describe it thoroughly or accurately. I went to my early classes, but skipped wind ensemble to go in pursuit of more pedal-appropriate shoes (the ones I had, though adorable, were a slight distraction to me given that they're about 4 inches tall and can make tricky pedaling a bigger challenge). I was expecting this trip to be a bit of a waste of time (although I recognized the important therapeutic benefits of going shoe shopping to calm oneself) when, after just 15 minutes at the shopping center, I walk into Belk, find the absolute perfect pair of shoes: black, strappy, cute, short and not-pointy heel, and OH BTW ON SALE FOR $20. They had two sizes left: 6 and 7 1/2; my size 8-8 1/2 feet slid in comfortably and though the heel bordered on the edge of the shoe, all was well in Toe Land and Comfortville. A SERENDIPITOUS SHOE EXPERIENCE, INDEED.
Okay, that part I can begin to describe thoroughly and accurately. What I can't describe is what it's like wondering if when you get out on stage, you'll forget how to play the piano altogether; what it's like standing slightly off-stage, listening to more and more people file in (we had 90 programs and apparently ran out); what it's like as the stage manager calls up to the whoever and gives the order to cut the house lights; what it's like to walk out onto a brightly lit stage with the most gorgeous piano you've ever laid eyes on while all of your college friends and a surprising number of your high school ones are clapping and waiting for you to play it. I can't describe well sitting down and the tremendous force of will it takes to make yourself just start (a problem vocalists or instrumentalists may not generally have, as they're just sort of shoved out of the airplane by their accompanist), or that truly magical feeling when you overcome your nerves, remember how much you love the music, and manage to start enjoying the experience. Dare I say it? I had a BLAST. Performance anxiety Joie, the girl whose lack of formal piano education up till college has given her some sort of inferiority complex, loved giving a piano half-recital.
And now, what I really can't describe: sitting backstage and listening to your amazingly talented peers play 30 minutes of music you composed. That's all I can say, because it was an experience to which words just don't do justice. There are few times in my entire life that I've been so happy. And may I just say, the second bow thing? Pretty much the coolest perk of a recital ever. "Look at me and clap! Continue clapping so that you may look at me again!" Magic, baby!
I had to get all that out. I'm so thankful for this amazing, once in a lifetime opportunity. I spent literally four years waiting for that day to come, and never thought it would get here. Now that it's over, I'm a mixture of sad and relieved... but I don't think I could've hoped for a better overall experience.
I am Joie's Raging Inability to Sleep. (And Joie, apparently, is still reading or at least thinking about reading Fight Club.)
For the past several weeks, I've been mostly unable to go back to sleep if I'm woken up after about 8 in the morning. (Okay, I realize lots of people need to be up before that time--I do, too, some days--but I'm a college student, and damn it all, I reserve my right to sleep until 3 in the afternoon whenever I feel like it.) It's... exceptionally annoying. But as soon as I wake up inadvertently or am woken up by someone/thing, my head starts going, making a list of what needs to be done, and any hope of remaining blissfully asleep is gone.
Apparently in the days leading up to my recital, this time has been pushed back to 5 in the freaking morning. No less, on a Sunday. I give you the big DOUBLE-YOU TEE EFF, brain. Brian (...a surprising juxtaposition of two words only a letter swap apart [holy shit I know how to use "juxtaposition" at 5 in the morning?!]) called me after returning home from his very late gig, and as soon as I got off the phone my brain started thinking, "You're really not comfortable enough with that Beethoven sonata yet. You should practice."
Ok, Brain, I thought back, we'll practice today. A lot.
"We should probably go through it, I dunno, a lot of times in a row," nagged Brain.
Yes, I agree. We'll get right on that today and do it every day until my recital, Brain. I proceeded to go back to sleep.
"...Joie?" pestered Brain. "I think Brian called you before this last time and you said something really stupid out of sleepiness. I can't remember what it was. What was it?"
~ a call to Brian to confirm I in fact, did not answer the first time he called and did not say anything stupid related to the dream I was having about Coda, Heather's new baby bunny ~
There, Brain. Nothing said. No bunnies mentioned. Good-night.
"You have to wear a dress and heels today."
Irrelevant information, Brain. Good-night.
"...You still have to name those three movements of the flute and marimba piece, you know. I wonder if anyone's at the practice rooms now?"
...Okay, I'm up.
This is the part where I assure you I'm not insane. But I think it was Nick who noted his affinity for my I-woke-up-ridiculously-early-and-can't-go-back-to-sleep-posts, and this one goes out to him.
Off I go to the music building. At 5:25. In the morning. On a Sunday.
Edited to Add: Ah, and if you didn't figure it out, I passed my piano jury. Much drama was involved, including my almost failing it after the first piece I played--a Bach prelude and fugue, bless the man--but after agreeing to drop that piece and recovering pretty well considering how upset I was, they passed me! I'm glad to be rid of it, honestly.
Edit #2: The only thing more annoying than waking up at 5 in the morning with an urge to practice is going to the music building at 5:30 in the morning and discovering one's security card apparently won't let you in that early. And that Captain McResponsible on the University Police has decided that maybe he'll go ahead and do his job this time and lock every door in the building. A grrr on everyone!!!
My piece for two clarinets, "Clarin(du)et," will be played on this Tuesday's annual Avant-Garde Woodwind Recital! Hooray. The piece is actually in no way avant-garde, but hey, it's only a few months old and that should count for something, yes?
Dare I say that the semester is steadily improving?