I have been a sewer, a quilter, a cross-stitcher, and generally crafty person for years. But I only learned how to knit recently. Now I can’t get enough of it. My latest quilting project sits abandoned in a box, and has for years now. But my first real knitting project is finally done!
My grandmother was an avid knitter. She would knit in the car. In the dark. In the car in the dark. My mom has drawers full of her gifted projects stowed away for my future progeny. Which is actually quite heartwarming, despite my current indecisiveness about becoming a mother.
My mom is also a knitter, though she, too, only recently picked it up in earnest. She has spent the last few years becoming quite proficient at quilting, which supplements her general sewing skills. Thank goodness for moms who still pass on these skills! Home Ec class was a total bummer in school, but I really think these skills are vital. And not just for girls. I feel lucky that my mom is a good sewer and a good cook, and that she taught me early. I can mend my clothes, sew on buttons, hem my own pants, even make simple alterations. But I absolutely love the act of creation.
I’ve decided to work on my ear training. I’ve never had much confidence in my abilities where sight singing is concerned. I’m not sure why, since most music is fairly predictable, and I don’t think there’s really anything “wrong” with my ears. I can tell when something’s out of tune (though I don’t have perfect pitch). I can tell when I’m out of tune. The problem is usually how to get myself back on track when I go off. If I get off, I instinctively give up because the task of finding my way back seems impossibly overwhelming.
I was pondering this gap in my abilities and confidence the other day when my husband and I were treating ourselves to a Friday night meal at our favorite local pub. We hadn’t been out to eat in a while, and it was exactly what we needed to decompress from the week. I paid with my credit card (yeah, we’re modern like that), and it came time to write down the tip and total it all up.
Now, I’m a big math nerd. I took geometry, algebra, and calculus in school. However, I’ve never been good at mental math. Basic addition and subtraction truly flummoxes me. I still resort to counting on my fingers. This has been a source of continual frustration and embarrassment over the years. In my family, we still sometimes tell the story of how my younger, learning-disabled brother would beat me – no, crush me – at this computer math game we played on our Apple IIE. read more…
Saturday night I had the opportunity to see Medea and its Double by Seoul Factory at La MaMa E.T.C. (Can I just say that “Seoul Factory” is a great name?) The concept took the Euripides’ Medea story and split the character into to parts at odds with one another: Medea as lover and Medea as mother.
Never having read the story, I gleaned what I could from the program notes. One aspect of the production that detracted from its overall power was that there were no surtitles. All the dialogue and lyrics were in Korean. While I estimate the majority of the audience was Korean, I could not understand a single word. So I gathered Medea and Jason were lovers, then they had two children. He went away, she wanted him back, and she took revenge by killing both children. Ultimately, there was much to appreciate and understand from the song and movement alone, and I suppose the details, much like opera, are almost irrelevant when compared to the broad strokes of really big emotions.
The cast of 7 used Korean pansori and traditional song, dance and martial arts to tell the story through a range of sounds and movements. The stage was white and red, with scrims masking the musicians but giving the ability to backlight and reveal them during certain moments. Two rectangular pools of water framed the sides, with floating candles inside, creating a beautiful effect. read more…
I recently started watching all the back episodes of Lost on Netflix. They are all available via Netflix instant viewing, so I worked my way through seasons 1-5 pretty quickly. I had seen a few episodes before, and somehow randomly watched a huge chunk of season 4 previously (but out of order), but I am now all caught up and clued in. Well, as much as one can be with that show. It has been curious timing for me, given the experience and my reaction to Ruddigore the other day.
For an action-heavy show, it is also remarkably character-driven. Delightfully so, actually. The show depends upon it as it relies on a flashback format to fill out the characters as real people in their past lives before the island. It is also fairly diligent about filling out these story-lines evenly across all of the main characters. There are a few survivors who never really come into play, and a few minor characters who only get one episode of flashbacks, but there is a large-ish group of core characters that, after 5 seasons and over 100 episodes, feel like complete people.
One of the things I like best about the show is that there is racial and cultural diversity. There is a spinal surgeon, a southern con-man, a woman wanted for murder, an Iraqi ex-torturer, two Chinese men (one scientist, one who can talk to the dead), an Hispanic man, a fertility doctor, a cancer survivor, a British rock star, an Australian single mom, a French scientist, two “spoiled rich kids,” an artist and his estranged son, and Sun and Jin Kwon, a Korean couple. read more…
I went to the New York Philharmonic’s matinee on Friday to see Thomas Hampson. I was a little disappointed that Hampson was only singing one of the four pieces on the program, but it was well worth attending anyway.
When I arrived at my seat, the woman next to me warned me she and her friend might have to leave early because they had to catch a train to CT and were worried about the traffic. What she should have asked was if I was OK with the fact that they would be whispering to each other DURING the concert. These ladies were in their 50s or 60s and they did not know how to behave at a classical music concert. Blarg. I ended up leaving at intermission partially because I didn’t want to deal with their rudeness for another hour.
I first learned about Thomas Hampson in my English and American song class. He is a huge champion of American song literature. It seemed appropriate that he would sing “The Wound-Dresser” by John Adams, one of the more prominent American composers of vocal music of our time. The words were taken from a Whitman poem of the same name. Whitman spent much of the Civil War tending to wounded soldiers, so he wrote of his experience first-hand. read more…
Last night I attended NYGASP’s production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Ruddigore at City Center. My friend Brooke was performing as one of the bridesmaids. Going in, I was wondering what kind of company it is, what are the production values, could I fit in there? And of course, I would get to see my friend and have a few laughs.
A few years ago, I played one of the daughters in Pirates of Penzance. It was a wonderful experience for many reasons. It was the first time I was really paid for a role, and we did around 50 shows, so it gave me a feel for how a long run goes. You need stamina, you need to keep it fresh each time you go out there. Some days you don’t feel like doing it, but you must anyway. As the cast gets weary, people start to play pranks, like trying to make you laugh onstage at inappropriate moments. You bond with everyone and you spend a heck of a lot of time together.
There was always something weird about that show. For me, and probably for anyone who saw it. In that story, all the women except for Ruth are supposed to be the Major General’s daughters. We had a running joke about how I was his illegitimate daughter from when he was serving in Asia. Haha.
I never really appreciate my health until I get sick. After a cold that turned into a sinus infection with really bad headaches, I am finally better. Now I understand why people with migraines get so much attention. Despite the old wife-with-a-headache joke, brain stuff is no laughing matter. Holy crap, you cannot ignore it when your head is pounding. This morning was the first day in at least a week when I didn’t wake up with a headache that required medication to ease the pain. Hallelujah!
People seemed pretty down on 2009, but it seemed pretty good to me compared to how 2010 has started so far. However, my illness didn’t keep me in bed entirely. I managed to organize our files and workspace, and I’m optimistic that I can implement a better job number and invoice system this year. I paid our 4Q estimated taxes, and things are looking good for the business. I feel organized and energized.
Between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I sang 4 p.m., 5:45 p.m., midnight, 8:30 a.m., 10:30 a.m., and 12:30 p.m. Then I had rehearsal from 2-5 p.m. on Saturday, a cantor mass at 5:45 p.m., mass at 10 a.m. and 11:15 a.m. on Sunday, capped off by a concert at 3:30 p.m. Sunday afternoon. Needless to say, I have had my fill of church for a while. Well, a week to be precise, which seems like a lifetime away given the pace of late. I am very much looking forward to receiving my December check next week.
Midnight mass wasn’t so bad. It was the 8:30 a.m. the next morning that was truly brutal. My in-laws paid for a hotel room a few blocks from the church, which was such a wonderful treat. Instead of paying a taxi or commuting home and back for 2 hours, I was able to walk minutes away and climb into bed.
I learned a few things for next year. First: pacing, pacing, pacing. I practically blew my voice out on the second service, which was bad news considering the amount I still had left to sing. I just love Christmas music and holiday services, but I guess I got carried away with the descants and with singing all 4 verses of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and “Joy to the World.” read more…
I had the pleasure of taking some time amid the insanity of the past few weeks to go see Mrs. Bob Cratchit’s Wild Christmas Binge at the Gallery Players in Brooklyn this past weekend. I know – Brooklyn. It actually only took an hour and fifteen minutes to get there, though. The real reason we went was to see Joanna Parson in the title role. It was an irreverent romp through Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, with quite a few twists and turns thrown in for good measure.
I have come to the decision that I will go see pretty much anything that Joanna is in. She is reliably hilarious, and all together delightful to watch on stage. It was the perfect antidote to the crummy mood that sometimes accompanies this time of year, what with all the incessant happiness, togetherness, deadlines, and shameless commercialism that define the season.
The big storm started during our commute down, and by the time we left the theatre it was raging. It was beautiful and gusty and amazing to watch the snow cover everything, creating an eerie hushed atmosphere, seemingly calming the entire city. We made it home safely via MTA. We had to wait a long while for the trains, but they eventually came, and there was good conversation to keep us occupied.
Self-discovery of the night: I am not cut out for hard-core mountain climbing. My feet were covered in snow for only about 15 minutes and I was crying uncle. I’m clearly not ready to scale Everest anytime soon. I like my limbs and digits. Note to self: Next time there is a prediction of heavy snow, wear boots, not flats.
Oh, hello, friends. Here I am. Sorry for the hiatus. It’s been hella crazy lately. Such is the awesomeness that is the period of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Looking for a little bit of grace to get me through.
I may have found a bit last night. I bought a 3-concert subscription to the New York Philharmonic a few months ago. The sales rep was very persistent, and I just couldn’t say “no” to him for some reason. I was actually super impressed with his method of not getting perturbed when my husband told him I wasn’t available, then asking when would be a good time to call back, and then actually calling back at the arranged time. I have to deal with so much nonsense and unresponsiveness that I guess I was kind of moved by his dedication and trustworthiness. I hope he made a few bucks off me.
So last night happened to be my first concert. When I purchased the ticket, I figured Wednesday night would be a fine time to go hear Handel’s Messiah. But the struggles of getting anything done this past week made me almost annoyed that I had to go to the orchestra. Shamed by this realization of feeling resentful for having the opportunity to go to a pretty building and listen to pretty music for 2 hours, I decided this was probably exactly what I needed to do last night. That’s the good thing about buying tickets so far in advance. They force you to use them when you would otherwise probably just keep putting your head down, grinding out work, and not enjoying a bit of the outside world. read more…
