Hey, You Never Know

So the pooch now has a name: Bailey (yeah, I'm real original, I know).

He's such a sweetie.

It's great - I tell him something, he listens and remembers. The birds? I tell them something, they laugh and then do the opposite. Every time. Why does everyone say a dog is so much more responsibility? Once this housebreaking thing is over (and please god, let that be soon), he's a piece of cake. A very yummy cake.

Obligatory cuteness:

Bugs Bunny (2008) I've done it again! The front door is painted and it's barely into December. Yay me! For previous years' pictures, check out my gallery.

Around the beginning of June, I get a phone call from a conductor I knew for a couple of weeks... 5 years ago. She's organizing a summer orchestra festival at her university and is in need of bassists. Would I like to audition? Now, I haven't played in an orchestra since I transfered out of Ithaca College, 4 years ago. When I left the music school there, I resigned myself to basically ending my music career. I haven't continued my lessons or played in any orchestras since I left; there just wasn't time between my academic studies, work and a hefty commute. I barely had time to fool around for fun, let alone seriously practice. Suffice to say, I know my skill level couldn't possibly be anywhere near what it was.

And yet, listening to the conductor chatter on the phone, trying to get me to join, that little tingly feeling in my stomach starts acting up; this might be a second chance. I'm done with undergrad, and I'm taking the summer off from my grad program. There'll never be a better time (at least for the next few years). The only crux is that I have to take bits and pieces of days off work with only a month's notice (nowhere near enough time as far as my bosses are concerned - to many people with shared responsibilites and independent skills). Whatever, I make it happen.

Now I've got one week to beat myself back into shape for an audition that's more of a formality than anything else. And yet, coming in from the cold (4 YEARS!), I was afraid that I really didn't have any skill left. It certainly didn't sound like it the first day. I complained to some of my co-workers, "Ah! I'm finally getting old." But clearly I was exaggerating, as I pulled it off.

One month of cooling my heels later, and group rehersals start. The music was only released to the musicians two days before (not nearly enough time) and it was HARD. Most of the pieces are very fast and have a lot runs with plenty of accidentals. Needless to say, I was nervous going into this. I show up at orientation, and the first thing I think is, "Oh god, they're all kids." It wasn't true, but at some point I did grow up when no one was looking. Weird. Most of the orchestra is in high school, but since orientation I've found a few with wrinkles in the foreheads. I'm bracing myself for seating auditions, but when I come back from the bathroom (oh, the timing!) a sheet is already being passed around with placements. Thank god I didn't have to worry about that. Then I realize one of the other bassists has moved my bass (it is a little rude to touch another person's instrument without permission - they're very expensive and a livelihood for some) to the first stand. Ass to floor. Oh shit.

I take a little break and still come back section leader.

So now, not only do I have to play well, but I have to help other people play better. No pressure. (Although some guilty satisfaction, oh yes.) The other two bassists I'm playing with are actually quite good, and at first I can't believe the conductor put me ahead of one of them.

As rehersals get underway I eventually settle into my place. My hands are now callused again, my tendons and muscles no longer burn after a mere two hours, and the music is musical.

And so tonight's the big night, oh god. I still don't have every bit of music down yet, and I probably never will, but I think we still sound good. I hope all goes well. I'm going to miss playing again once this is over.



Tonight's program:
Beethoven's Coriolan Overture, Op. 62
Mozart's Oboe Concerto
Dvorak's Czech Suite
Reinecke's Flute Concerto, Op. 283
Wieniawski's Violin Concerto No. 2, Op. 22
and god help me, Mendelssohn's Italian Symphony, Op. 90

There's enough music to warrant our own intermission, apparently. I think we have over 1.5 hours worth of playtime, let alone stop time for the audience to clap, the winds to clear the stage, soloists to have their grand entry, conductors to give speeches, etc... this will probably be a long night. But hey, tradition, Friendly's afterparty!

Yay! One more art project done. My friend, who lives in a condo, asked me to draw him a picture of two asian dragons around his condo number to make into an address plate for his door. The annoying part is it's eventually going to be etched into some kind of metal plate, so I could only do outlines, rather than a whole nice piece with shading and what not. C'est la vie. That just gives me the urge to do yet another work (this time bigger, and in color!). It's nice having a reason to do artwork. You never realize how much you miss art classes in school until you graduate and suddenly you've gone months without drawing anything more than an impressive doodle. So sad.



EDIT: Those of you who saw this when I originally posted may realize that I made some minor changes. I woke up this morning, still irritated by the top left/center of the pic, and suddenly I realized how to fix it. This is why you never do an art project in just one day folks. Editing is always good.

Coolness. I found this site from Nel-Ani's journal. You get to make cool things like this:



:D

HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA!

**Happy Dance**

I just finished my last final of my undergraduate career!!!

Take that college!

WOOT WOOT!!

Welcoming to the family Oatmeal II, aka...

JUNIOR!





This is a picture of him after he's taken his first shower. He's the only quaker I know who refuses to take a bath. He's only 10 weeks old and he's already almost the size of Oatmeal (who was 15 years old and therefore full grown)! I still miss Oatmeal terribly, and I'm sad the Pionus didn't work out, but Junior is definately cute.

Gah! Okay, now I'm panicking. My bird is sick and the time is ticking very slowly until her appointment with the vet. When I say my bird, I don't mean some cute little finch in a cage I can do nothing more than look at for three years until it dies. I mean my 14 (15?) year old parrot who sits on my shoulders for hours every day and has been my constant companion for most of my life. In 14 (15?) years she's never once been sick! She's just sitting in her cage looking miserable. She was sitting on my shoulder for a few hours before, but I finally had to put her down after she threw up. Did you know birds could throw up? I didn't! God, it reeked! What was coming out her other end was even worse. TMI, I'm sure, but feel free to stop reading. If she's not okay, I'm going to have a very big problem. Eee!