Exhaustification
The only thing that irks me about the recent development in my Tuesday schedule is all the commuting that I have to do. Drive to College. Drive to Skaggs’s. Drive to Park’s. Drive home. And I don’t enjoy driving at all. But the busy-ness suits me. It’s nice having work.
Because I wore contacts for many years, when I switched back to glasses, I thought they made me look weird. But now, when I see myself without glasses, I can’t understand why I didn’t think I simply look weird to begin with.
Weird, and Tired.
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I’m subbing some of Phil’s classes this week. He sent me and Joe Klice, who is also subbing some of Phil’s classes this week, an email about the coursework and then closed with what I found to be a rather curious line: Thanks for doing this somewhat thankless job.
I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m still not sure what he means.
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My *other new piano
The first thing I noticed was that it’s not a full-sized keyboard, which surprised me a little but didn’t bother me much. I think I was more surprised to see what looked like two sets of black keys up top, cuz I’ve never seen such a thing before! The next thing I noticed was that it hadn’t come with a bench. They had advertised it on eBay as coming with a bench, but since I had decided to deal outside of eBay in order to use my own piano moving service, I’m not sure I can complain on that much. I played some chords on it. It was (badly) out of tune. Badly for a musician, but fine by my brother’s standards. Then I played some Chopin on it and found it difficult to voice the keys. The keys felt dirty as I played, and I wondered how long I would let it sit dirty before I would finally decide to break the spell and clean them. When I opened the lid I saw that the hammers had been played in quite a bit. The latter is another bit of false advertising on A440’s part, because the pictures show brand new hammers. This really surprised me, far more than the quirk of the two sets of black keys up top, but I suppose I should not have expected that it had literally just shipped from Germany. Likely it has been several years and hours of playing since.
But it does have a lovely, mellow quality to it, and I know that with a few sessions with the tech, it will do very well. I’ll wait a bit to let it settle and also to give myself some time to pluck up the courage to call up Ned. I just know he’s going to hate me.
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Ridonkulousness
Whoo hoo! My piano has arrived! I wasn’t there to receive it, and I haven’t actually seen it yet, but I just called my brother, who was there to receive it, and has seen it, and it has arrived! The movers actually arrived earlier than expected, which is a revelation when I have just had and am still in the middle of a horribly problem-ridden sofa delivery. Why TheSofaCo delivery people couldn’t do the job when they said they would is completely unprofessional and lame. The sofa now has a new delivery date/time: Wednesday, November 11 — arriving anywhere between 6 and 9 am, if they decide to not be late again. Apparently it’s going to take 2-3 hours from when they arrive at my house to when the sofa is finally in the studio. They were able to move my piano on schedule, and even earlier than expected, AND all in under 30 minutes, and yet a sofa takes a late appointment, a much later rescheduling, and then they say up to 3 hours (and, given recent history, let’s just add a “or more”) to get from the driveway to the room.
Maybe I should’ve asked Walter Piano Transport to deliver my sofa too..
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Alack!
If a company says that they will deliver a large item at a certain time & not only arrives late but also is unable to complete delivery..
Is it unreasonable for the customer to be peeved?!
Because I am.
Ten minutes late would not be so bad if delivery was completed. But, ten minutes late when the delivery window was THREE HOURS in length, and then not being able to complete delivery and actually taking the item back until such a time as they actually do have time to complete delivery is.. preposterous! Chelsea Couch is awesome, but TheSofaCo moving people = stink!
Alack. They’re supposed to call to reshedyule, but I have yet to receive the call. Looks like I’m going the weekend without a bed 
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Handle with care
There were no "Fragile" markings on the envelope, and the materials inside didn't really require it, but.. Ay caramba.
Miraculously, no damage done. I guess the envelope did its job.
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Exhilarating Tuesday habits
Today was a crazy 10-hour day that is likely to become an exhilaratingly Tuesday-ish habit. I spent about three hours at the City College, and then it’s the Skaggs for two and a half hours, and now I have added a Park for another. Since the addition of the Park, though, I will have to take away one of the City College hours for Me refueling — there is only so long that I can go without eating again.
The day almost became a nightmare, what with so many nervous college students to evaluate, and so many non-practicing pre-college students to sit through, but my new Park seemed to make it all better. I’m not sure I’ll know what to do with a student who not only has talent, but also actually practices. I didn’t think that I would ever be so lucky to be blessed with such a demographic of student, believing that I would be forever doomed to cope with those who, worse than not having talent, simply don’t even practice. Ending a day with a fantastic student manages to eradicate all the dreadfulness preceeding. What a luxury it is to have fantastic students!
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Grow me another Earth
It took me a while, but I finally got around to watching An Inconvenient Truth, and it reminded me of the time that my Bro asked me if it made me want to join a protest, and
I responded: “I’m the person on the organ, while everybody’s fighting outside.”
There is no (honest) work that can be, unequivocally, considered of greater nobility than any other, but sometimes the guilt of not “doing more” more than chafes. Two summers ago, I and my family joined a tour group in China, and at one of the many dinners that our group shared, the couple of Cambodian descent shared their tragic background of a life while in captivity in their native land. Neither my Chinese nor my memory is fantastic, but I remember distinctly the couple speaking of how the American Red Cross helped in their defection and emigration to the United States, and I remember thinking a deep and sensational “Oh..” How I would love to be a part of something like that — to be a real-life superman who quite literally saves people. I immediately decided that as soon as I had a proper income I would include the ARC in my charitable contributions. But, recently, I’ve been wondering if even that would be enough. It’s hard to feel like your work is meaningful when that work is music, the least tangible and thus, perhaps, most luxurious and indulgent of the arts. It amounts to bringing a little music into people’s lives. But I suppose that music saves people in its own way?
What of saving Planet Earth? Perhaps I shall use my influence to steer people towards acoustic, and, dare I say it?, even old or ancient instruments, restored or not, which are, after all, and I’ve always believed to be, Green.
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“I like Hello Kitty”
I had NMS today, and both my students implored that I bring stickers to future lessons because that’s how Mindy or whoever their previous teacher did it. The tough-talking, cigar puffing side of me wanted to say, “Oh, yeah? Well too bad!” But, instead, I asked the second of them what her favorite kind of sticker was, and she told me it was Hello Kitty. So, I’m looking through my collection of stickers that I’ve saved over the years and there is no Hello Kitty. “Oh, yeah? Well too bad!”
As a kid, I never put much stock in the whole sticker thing. I think my teachers were more into it than I was. Some of the stickers were really pretty — too pretty to be used, I’d say — but my practicing was never predicated on the hope that I’d eventually earn some shiny roses or music notes or the ubiquitous gold star. I guess I wasn’t a typical little kid. Now when you don’t get stickers, it’s like “What’s wrong with you, teacher?! Where’s my sticker?!!” Good grief. “You want a sticker? You like Hello Kitty? Well too bad! Here. Have a piece of tape.”
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Note by.. eh, who cares
I have to agree with some of the less than adulatory reviews of this Steinway documentary, all of which stem from the fatal and flawed choice of the secondary title, “The Making of Steinway L1037.” Referring to the film as a “making of” would lead one to expect a chronicle of design and construction. Yet one is provided, instead, with contrapuntal storylines of various artists on finding the ideal sound, and other anecdotes, and what ultimately amounts to a cursory documentation of more the workers at the factory than the work itself. The Extras prove more interesting, and run the risk of outshining the feature that they were meant to enhance, and from which they were purged! Conclusion: Read Perri Knize’s Grand Obsession for a more satisfying look at piano construction.
It doesn’t even make me want to buy a Steinway, which, indubitably, the subliminal messages were meant to do !
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Valentine
The most romantic moment of my life happened when I was in my final year of graduate school. I had just received my last rejection letter and, rather than commence hibernation phase right away, I willed myself to skip all that nonsense and attend a colleague’s recital instead. I had immediately sent news to all my recommenders that I would not be continuing music study, and, obviously, Dr. Heiles was in that party.
I did go to the colleague’s recital, but I don’t remember much of it — I cannot say what was on the program nor who it was that played — but I ran into Dr. Heiles at the reception following the recital, and he pulled me aside to ask if I would join him in his studio for a moment. I sat on the old sofa, and he in his chair, and waited for him to start. “.. you are a very strong person.. I know you will be fine.. but it is a very great disappointment.. and you need to grieve..” I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I started bawling and I couldn’t stop. It was a very great disappointment: I had invested so much of myself in this idea for my future. I wanted it more than anyone I knew. I labored with so much intensity and ardor believing that the rewards were supposed to be greater. I practiced hard and studied harder, pushed through the chronic migraines, gave myself more work and loftier goals, wasted hours painting over the stress induced acne, the unnatural and unhealthy, splotchy complexion, only so that one day everyone that I respected would slam the door in my face and shout through the wall: YOU SUCK. It was strange to allow myself to experience such intense pain at very same moment when Dr. Heiles was showing me so much love: how much he understood, how much he truly cared for me. He knew how much this dream meant to me. I needed to grieve.
I just finished watching 84 Charing Cross Road. It is not referred to as a love story, but the “touching and humorous correspondence” referred to in the title description suggests love to me, and I watched the film thinking of it as a love story. And it is. And it is that sort of love that I seek. Needless to say, I have been disappointed in the Love department many times over. People seem to think that love is what they bill as “love stories” in the movie industry: pretty girls and handsome boys, kissing and holding hands, and lots of passionate sex. Has that ever been what love is?
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Speaking piano
At one point, I experimented with using German music notation to translate poetry into piano music. This, however, is far more literal:
..and, arguably, far more awesome! Now, if only I knew how to hook it up to my brain so that all my communications could be relayed via The Speaking Piano, Stephen Hawking style 
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