In my family, we pride ourselves on our senses of humor. My father is the best at puns and "Dad Jokes" (You know, the kind of joke where you ask someone for a hand with something and they start applauding?).
Well, for years, my oldest sister has been teased because it took her about 20 years to finally understand the joke "How do you get down off an elephant? You don't. You get down off a duck!"
(I'll give you a second to get it... Still don't? Think down feathers.)
The story goes that she finally got it while getting ready to sleep under her down comforter. She called my parents, and Dad especially got a good laugh out of it. It usually gets brought up at nearly every family holiday. Well, Rachel no longer has to be laughed at alone.
Chris and I were joking around last night, telling knock-knock jokes when I turned to him and said, "What's black and white and red all over?" to which he responded, "A newspaper!" I got all up in arms and started complaining about how that joke made no sense because a newspaper isn't red. His eyes got big, and he asked, "Are you serious?" And then it hit me...a newspaper is black and white and READ all over. Darn those homophones.
So yes, I called my parents and they laughed that yet again, one of their daughters was oblivious to a joke that most 5-year-olds could figure out.
I'm just glad to finally get it!
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Monday, April 13, 2015
Another pesky life update
Hello all!
I'm still on the planet. There wasn't much to post about in the past 5 or so months, considering you'd be hearing a repeated mantra of "Got up early, practiced before work, did some work, practiced some more, went to rehearsal, went home to sleep. Repeat forever." No one wants to read that.
Well, the mantra appears to have been in vain. I had promised myself after college that I would keep pushing forward in my career goals, get into grad school, get my masters in performance, then figure things out from there. See if by the time I was 30 I was actually making a career out of playing horn. Looks like life caught up with me long before I expected it to.
I did go and do the grad school trips in February. I felt pretty good about my playing, but when the results finally came back in late March, it wasn't pretty: two waitlists and a rejection. Also a rejection from the one summer festival I threw an application out for (I figured I really ought to stay and work for the summer if I was going to stop having a job in the fall when I went back to school). When the rejection came, my horn teacher and I sat down and had a serious talk about what this means for me. His advice was to stop having a goal to make my money solely from playing horn. The cruel truth was that if I wasn't good enough to get into even a mid-level conservatory for grad school, there was no way I was going to stay afloat in a sea of very talented and hard-working horn players that are streaming out of conservatories and big name public schools.
I cried. I was angry. I wanted to know why so many people had told me that I had potential to make it as a performer, and encouraged me, when it felt like the whole time I had no chance at it. I started to play the what-if game, but before that took off, Chris and I had a good talk about how unhealthy that was, and started to work towards re-framing my thinking away from the pain of rejection and disappointment, and toward what happens next.
It hurt to admit it at first, but after about...oh four or five hours of being upset, that there was a tiny voice in the back of my head that was sighing out of relief. I had worked my butt off toward this goal, and while it didn't work out, it meant there were other things I could do instead. I could stay in the Puget Sound, building a career! I could finish the move out to Redmond (more on that in a bit) and stay put for a while. I could keep putting money away in savings thanks to my new-found money saving skills! I could take the money I had been putting aside to buy a triple horn to instead buy something that would make life easier: a car (more on that later as well).
As time has gone on, while I'm technically still waiting to hear from the two schools where I'm on the wait list, I've started to relax and take time to enjoy my time and hobbies more. I'm knitting lots more, though that has more to do with my commute length than anything else. My psoriasis has gotten way less severe because I'm no longer stressed and filled with guilt when I do anything less than three hours of practicing a day (I still aim for at least one a day). I'm still taking gigs, still playing in a few different groups, but now I'm playing because I want to play, and not just because I desperately want to put pieces on my music resume. I can say no if I want, and that's okay.
So, in summary, I'm not aiming to play professionally 100% any more. I'm still aiming to be a great horn player, will keep working to improve my playing, and have actually really started the process of getting networked into some light freelancing in Seattle. With that, and the fact that I've moved to the suburbs, the time for a car has finally arrived. I'm still working to save for a decent down payment so I can get approved for a decent loan. While my credit is getting better every month, I'm still young, so getting good interest rates is tough. My goal is to find a car and get the ball rolling in the next couple months.
As for the move? Yup, I live out in Redmond. If someone had told me two or three years ago that I'd be moving this far outside Seattle, I would have thought they were crazy. There's no way I'd want to move out of the city! Well, I laugh to say it now, but I love living in the suburbs. Sure, if I need to pop over to the grocery store to pick up eggs, it's now going to take 30 minutes to walk the mile and a half to Safeway, and busing is basically impossible on weekends or outside regular commuting hours on the weekdays, but I love where I live. My apartment complex is everything I ever wanted in a living situation, but never could have afforded in Seattle. We have fitness centers, recreation centers, a tennis/basketball court, and three swimming pools! 24/7 maintenance on site, and the leasing office is open 9-6 every day. Oh, and security patrols every evening from 10 pm until 5 am, so if neighbors get rowdy, there's someone you can call and that can deal with it right away! But quiet isn't a problem out there...in spite of how many people live in the complex, many of them families, everything stays fairly quiet. Best part of living around families is that they're getting quiet and settled down for the night about the same time the college students would start getting ramped up for parties in my old place.
Oh, and I've already found a knitting group that meets not too far from my apartment on Sunday mornings, and have a standing invitation to join a spinning guild once my transportation changes when I get a car. Welcoming!
In summary, western WA is going to be dealing with me for a while longer, and I'm looking forward to seeing how this new routine and lifestyle turn out.
I'm still on the planet. There wasn't much to post about in the past 5 or so months, considering you'd be hearing a repeated mantra of "Got up early, practiced before work, did some work, practiced some more, went to rehearsal, went home to sleep. Repeat forever." No one wants to read that.
Well, the mantra appears to have been in vain. I had promised myself after college that I would keep pushing forward in my career goals, get into grad school, get my masters in performance, then figure things out from there. See if by the time I was 30 I was actually making a career out of playing horn. Looks like life caught up with me long before I expected it to.
I did go and do the grad school trips in February. I felt pretty good about my playing, but when the results finally came back in late March, it wasn't pretty: two waitlists and a rejection. Also a rejection from the one summer festival I threw an application out for (I figured I really ought to stay and work for the summer if I was going to stop having a job in the fall when I went back to school). When the rejection came, my horn teacher and I sat down and had a serious talk about what this means for me. His advice was to stop having a goal to make my money solely from playing horn. The cruel truth was that if I wasn't good enough to get into even a mid-level conservatory for grad school, there was no way I was going to stay afloat in a sea of very talented and hard-working horn players that are streaming out of conservatories and big name public schools.
I cried. I was angry. I wanted to know why so many people had told me that I had potential to make it as a performer, and encouraged me, when it felt like the whole time I had no chance at it. I started to play the what-if game, but before that took off, Chris and I had a good talk about how unhealthy that was, and started to work towards re-framing my thinking away from the pain of rejection and disappointment, and toward what happens next.
It hurt to admit it at first, but after about...oh four or five hours of being upset, that there was a tiny voice in the back of my head that was sighing out of relief. I had worked my butt off toward this goal, and while it didn't work out, it meant there were other things I could do instead. I could stay in the Puget Sound, building a career! I could finish the move out to Redmond (more on that in a bit) and stay put for a while. I could keep putting money away in savings thanks to my new-found money saving skills! I could take the money I had been putting aside to buy a triple horn to instead buy something that would make life easier: a car (more on that later as well).
As time has gone on, while I'm technically still waiting to hear from the two schools where I'm on the wait list, I've started to relax and take time to enjoy my time and hobbies more. I'm knitting lots more, though that has more to do with my commute length than anything else. My psoriasis has gotten way less severe because I'm no longer stressed and filled with guilt when I do anything less than three hours of practicing a day (I still aim for at least one a day). I'm still taking gigs, still playing in a few different groups, but now I'm playing because I want to play, and not just because I desperately want to put pieces on my music resume. I can say no if I want, and that's okay.
So, in summary, I'm not aiming to play professionally 100% any more. I'm still aiming to be a great horn player, will keep working to improve my playing, and have actually really started the process of getting networked into some light freelancing in Seattle. With that, and the fact that I've moved to the suburbs, the time for a car has finally arrived. I'm still working to save for a decent down payment so I can get approved for a decent loan. While my credit is getting better every month, I'm still young, so getting good interest rates is tough. My goal is to find a car and get the ball rolling in the next couple months.
As for the move? Yup, I live out in Redmond. If someone had told me two or three years ago that I'd be moving this far outside Seattle, I would have thought they were crazy. There's no way I'd want to move out of the city! Well, I laugh to say it now, but I love living in the suburbs. Sure, if I need to pop over to the grocery store to pick up eggs, it's now going to take 30 minutes to walk the mile and a half to Safeway, and busing is basically impossible on weekends or outside regular commuting hours on the weekdays, but I love where I live. My apartment complex is everything I ever wanted in a living situation, but never could have afforded in Seattle. We have fitness centers, recreation centers, a tennis/basketball court, and three swimming pools! 24/7 maintenance on site, and the leasing office is open 9-6 every day. Oh, and security patrols every evening from 10 pm until 5 am, so if neighbors get rowdy, there's someone you can call and that can deal with it right away! But quiet isn't a problem out there...in spite of how many people live in the complex, many of them families, everything stays fairly quiet. Best part of living around families is that they're getting quiet and settled down for the night about the same time the college students would start getting ramped up for parties in my old place.
Oh, and I've already found a knitting group that meets not too far from my apartment on Sunday mornings, and have a standing invitation to join a spinning guild once my transportation changes when I get a car. Welcoming!
In summary, western WA is going to be dealing with me for a while longer, and I'm looking forward to seeing how this new routine and lifestyle turn out.
Friday, November 14, 2014
The importance of positivity
It's been a tough couple years for me to keep thinking positively. Getting myself all psyched up and ready to go to grad school right after my undergrad, then having that rug pulled out from under me was shocking on my poor little system, especially for this particular system that tends to run more half-empty than half-full.
And yet, in spite of what felt like a major set back, there came some good things. I got my first full-time (with benefits) job right as the healthcare changes made it so my parents couldn't pay for insurance with me on it still. It wasn't a stellar income builder, but it was enough to live on. I had access to practice rooms whenever I wanted, I just needed to get my butt back into gear and start putting some real work in. You see, after I graduated undergrad, there were several months where I basically never touched my horn because I was working 60 hours a week to try to make grad school work. Then, once I realized I couldn't go to school, I set my horn down for another few months because I was horribly burnt out from all those extra work hours, and just hated the feeling of disappointment.
Then came the fall, with ensembles starting up again, and a swift kick in the butt from Chris that I was wasting my own time by not playing. I also know that I had been rather disappointed in myself, not having the motivation I desperately needed. I don't remember when I started practicing every work day...I want to say it was somewhere around Lent, as I gave up "days off from practicing" for those 40 days prior to Easter. I wasn't entirely successful, but it got the ball rolling. Right about that same time period was when I decided to restart lessons (another brilliant move on my part, if I do say so...then again, it's also a pretty obvious one).
There were some ups and downs. I remember my teacher looking at me and frankly saying that if I didn't change how I was playing the horn, I was stuck. Not going to move forward, and definitely going to kill my chances to get back into school and get my musical career moving again. (That was an especially depressing moment.)
And then the really positive comments started to float my direction. My teacher had lit a fire under my butt, and I was really getting back into gear. I had one of the SSO violinists commend me for my practice habits (I have to walk through backstage to get to the practice rooms) and inform me that he hoped to see me get to play in the orchestra someday. Our stage crew is fantastic, and make sure to say hello every morning when they see me. Today, I had a conversation with one of our stage hands, who always is the one to mention how dedicated I am, and he mentioned how since coming to work at the Symphony, he is continually amazed at the "great kids" employed here who are working so hard toward their goals, as opposed to the kids you always hear about on the news that are getting into trouble. I made a snarky comment about how I made a point not to try to make headlines, and one of the other stage hands joined the conversation to inform me that someday I would be making headlines, but for all the right reasons.
When people in general give me compliments on my playing or my dedication, I usually take it with a grain of salt because family and friends,especially those who don't know much about classical music, like to say nice things because somehow there's some mystique about what I do. But, to hear from people who are actively involved in music, whether backstage running the details of getting everything on stage to work, or actually being on the stage playing the music, it makes a huge difference. The most rewarding comment of all came through my horn teacher this week, after I've been fighting chapped, exhausted lips and mouthpiece changes, I took some time off to prepare for the recordings I'm making this weekend. We had our lesson yesterday afternoon, and after some minor tweaking, he said that it was the best he's ever heard me play.
That all being said, compliments feel good. And with the most recent handful I've gotten this week, I'm raring to go and get these recordings done so I can get on with this process! Wish me luck, this could be quite an adventure.
~Allison
And yet, in spite of what felt like a major set back, there came some good things. I got my first full-time (with benefits) job right as the healthcare changes made it so my parents couldn't pay for insurance with me on it still. It wasn't a stellar income builder, but it was enough to live on. I had access to practice rooms whenever I wanted, I just needed to get my butt back into gear and start putting some real work in. You see, after I graduated undergrad, there were several months where I basically never touched my horn because I was working 60 hours a week to try to make grad school work. Then, once I realized I couldn't go to school, I set my horn down for another few months because I was horribly burnt out from all those extra work hours, and just hated the feeling of disappointment.
Then came the fall, with ensembles starting up again, and a swift kick in the butt from Chris that I was wasting my own time by not playing. I also know that I had been rather disappointed in myself, not having the motivation I desperately needed. I don't remember when I started practicing every work day...I want to say it was somewhere around Lent, as I gave up "days off from practicing" for those 40 days prior to Easter. I wasn't entirely successful, but it got the ball rolling. Right about that same time period was when I decided to restart lessons (another brilliant move on my part, if I do say so...then again, it's also a pretty obvious one).
There were some ups and downs. I remember my teacher looking at me and frankly saying that if I didn't change how I was playing the horn, I was stuck. Not going to move forward, and definitely going to kill my chances to get back into school and get my musical career moving again. (That was an especially depressing moment.)
And then the really positive comments started to float my direction. My teacher had lit a fire under my butt, and I was really getting back into gear. I had one of the SSO violinists commend me for my practice habits (I have to walk through backstage to get to the practice rooms) and inform me that he hoped to see me get to play in the orchestra someday. Our stage crew is fantastic, and make sure to say hello every morning when they see me. Today, I had a conversation with one of our stage hands, who always is the one to mention how dedicated I am, and he mentioned how since coming to work at the Symphony, he is continually amazed at the "great kids" employed here who are working so hard toward their goals, as opposed to the kids you always hear about on the news that are getting into trouble. I made a snarky comment about how I made a point not to try to make headlines, and one of the other stage hands joined the conversation to inform me that someday I would be making headlines, but for all the right reasons.
When people in general give me compliments on my playing or my dedication, I usually take it with a grain of salt because family and friends,especially those who don't know much about classical music, like to say nice things because somehow there's some mystique about what I do. But, to hear from people who are actively involved in music, whether backstage running the details of getting everything on stage to work, or actually being on the stage playing the music, it makes a huge difference. The most rewarding comment of all came through my horn teacher this week, after I've been fighting chapped, exhausted lips and mouthpiece changes, I took some time off to prepare for the recordings I'm making this weekend. We had our lesson yesterday afternoon, and after some minor tweaking, he said that it was the best he's ever heard me play.
That all being said, compliments feel good. And with the most recent handful I've gotten this week, I'm raring to go and get these recordings done so I can get on with this process! Wish me luck, this could be quite an adventure.
~Allison
Friday, October 3, 2014
A darkness to move through
It's not often anymore that I feel like sharing with the rest of the world what's going on in my life. It's even less often when it's not optimistic or happy. Then there are the moments where I realize that it's healthier to admit that my life isn't the postcard you see on my facebook profile, and that I really am your average 20-something who is struggling to make it in this world.
I knew, when I got a degree in music, that I was walking into a long span of money being tight. I knew that I'd never be allowed to whine or complain about my wages or job, because the moment I stepped up and said anything, someone would turn around and tell me how I should have majored in engineering or one of the sciences. It's worn on me for the last year and a half as I've transitioned into a working adult from the world of academia.
Well, I've learned a lot from being an adult so far. And you know? I've come to determine it's not about the fact that I'm a musician that makes me broke. When I get gigs, they are fantastic bonuses that go straight to savings, or can pay off a credit card, or put groceries on the tables for a couple months. No, it's not being a musician. It's just the point I am in my life and career that means being broke, for some reason. You see, I haven't started my career. I have a full-time job, and I practice (what feels like) all the time. But I can't say that I'm a professional musician, because that chapter of my life hasn't begun.
Meanwhile, the job that I have to keep a roof over my head and food on my table is only barely doing that. Without going into too much detail, I'm being underpaid for the position I'm in, and while my team has been fighting for all of us to get pay that actually supports the cost of living in this city, it's not a quick process. So instead of telling you with a huge smile on my face that I love my job, and have a great life, fantastic apartment, free transportation, etc., let me paint the picture that actually reflects reality.
I don't make what my housemates refer to as a "real adult wage" ($13/hour), and I have two roommates to be able to afford my two-bedroom apartment. I live in the midst of the loudest part of a college campus neighborhood because the rent is cheaper, even though it means sacrificing sleep. I have free transportation because there's no way in hell I can afford a car. I can't really get gigs (and don't put myself out there for them) because most of the time I can't get there by bus...or I can't in any reasonable amount of time. I haven't really bought anything "fun" in months, because any time I drop $20 on something, I end up unable to pay for groceries for a week or so. My medical benefits are great, except they don't cover a couple items (that really shouldn't affect the general population) such as splints to help my tendinitis in my wrists. I'm scrambling to find $200 to pay that bill. $35 for the copay for medication that helps me do my job doesn't seem like much to pay each month, until you factor that that's a week or so worth of groceries.
I'm going out of my mind, but I'm too stubborn and proud to ask for help. Also, because if I ask, I know that someone out there will tell me that I should have gotten a different degree. Or should pick up a second job. By the way, can't start working part-time at Starbucks (or something else that might fit around my full-time job) because that kills my practice time. Did I mention that I'm still trying to get that career off the ground?
I am surviving. I haven't given up hope. But I'm exhausted, and tired of fighting my paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle. Tired of finally having a small lump of cash saved up, only to have something happen, like a root canal, which wipes out everything.
I'm just tired.
“You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.” Shaun Hick
I knew, when I got a degree in music, that I was walking into a long span of money being tight. I knew that I'd never be allowed to whine or complain about my wages or job, because the moment I stepped up and said anything, someone would turn around and tell me how I should have majored in engineering or one of the sciences. It's worn on me for the last year and a half as I've transitioned into a working adult from the world of academia.
Well, I've learned a lot from being an adult so far. And you know? I've come to determine it's not about the fact that I'm a musician that makes me broke. When I get gigs, they are fantastic bonuses that go straight to savings, or can pay off a credit card, or put groceries on the tables for a couple months. No, it's not being a musician. It's just the point I am in my life and career that means being broke, for some reason. You see, I haven't started my career. I have a full-time job, and I practice (what feels like) all the time. But I can't say that I'm a professional musician, because that chapter of my life hasn't begun.
Meanwhile, the job that I have to keep a roof over my head and food on my table is only barely doing that. Without going into too much detail, I'm being underpaid for the position I'm in, and while my team has been fighting for all of us to get pay that actually supports the cost of living in this city, it's not a quick process. So instead of telling you with a huge smile on my face that I love my job, and have a great life, fantastic apartment, free transportation, etc., let me paint the picture that actually reflects reality.
I don't make what my housemates refer to as a "real adult wage" ($13/hour), and I have two roommates to be able to afford my two-bedroom apartment. I live in the midst of the loudest part of a college campus neighborhood because the rent is cheaper, even though it means sacrificing sleep. I have free transportation because there's no way in hell I can afford a car. I can't really get gigs (and don't put myself out there for them) because most of the time I can't get there by bus...or I can't in any reasonable amount of time. I haven't really bought anything "fun" in months, because any time I drop $20 on something, I end up unable to pay for groceries for a week or so. My medical benefits are great, except they don't cover a couple items (that really shouldn't affect the general population) such as splints to help my tendinitis in my wrists. I'm scrambling to find $200 to pay that bill. $35 for the copay for medication that helps me do my job doesn't seem like much to pay each month, until you factor that that's a week or so worth of groceries.
I'm going out of my mind, but I'm too stubborn and proud to ask for help. Also, because if I ask, I know that someone out there will tell me that I should have gotten a different degree. Or should pick up a second job. By the way, can't start working part-time at Starbucks (or something else that might fit around my full-time job) because that kills my practice time. Did I mention that I'm still trying to get that career off the ground?
I am surviving. I haven't given up hope. But I'm exhausted, and tired of fighting my paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle. Tired of finally having a small lump of cash saved up, only to have something happen, like a root canal, which wipes out everything.
I'm just tired.
“You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.” Shaun Hick
Monday, July 14, 2014
The great Facebook hiatus
It's true. I'm taking a break from facebook. I didn't want to make a big fuss of it, since whenever I see anyone else do that, it always seems to be more of a cry for attention than actually related to their own good. Personally, my own hiatus is related to a discussion I had with Chris over how much time I was spending on it, and how little good it was doing for my mental health. So, I'm taking a couple weeks off, and seeing what happens. We're on day two currently, and I already feel much better. I've started taking the time to text people to hang out and reconnect, because I don't know if they're busy, and therefore, I'm not worried about asking.
Meanwhile, I've also finished another big project that I'm rather proud of: My first, official, totally handspun sweater for me!
It's going to be my summer layer for the office, since it's too hot to wear a jacket outside, but too cold to wear summery clothes inside. And since it includes so many colors, I can wear it with pretty much anything! I also got to show it to my sister, who recently began to knit, and she was positively tickled!
Timing was excellent also. I finished tucking all the loose ends this morning, then headed to the post office to pick up my next shipment of fiber, which will become this sweater:
Can't tell you all how excited I am! My blue fiber is a tad darker, but I think it will end up just lovely. I never thought I'd love knitting sweaters, but here I am, about to start spinning the yarn for sweater #3. Chris may never get another sweater, though, now that I've seen how quickly sweaters knit up in pixie size!
On the work front, lots has changed that has made the work environment much more friendly. New management, the brief pause between seasons, and less time spent on the phone. It's a lovely break, though the days do tend to drag on a bit when you're simply waiting around for the phone to ring. That's how I got the most recent sweater finished so quickly; lots of time between calls that I didn't want to spend just hanging out on the internet.
I've also had a resurgence in my tendinitis. I went to the doctor last week and had it officially diagnosed in my wrists (it had been diagnosed via MRI in my shoulders, and then a few years later in my ankles, so I always assumed that my wrist problems were tendinitis). Looks like it's back to wearing braces for a while, though I'm working with my employer to see if there's a way to get the specialized braces through them instead of going through insurance and whatnot. Hoping there will be relief soon!
Fortunately, this week only will be a three day work week, as I'm taking a vacation day tomorrow to move into my new apartment (yay, not being "homeless" crashing at my wonderful aunt and uncle's house!), and we have a special day off on Saturday where the office is getting painted. All good things.
Now, before my wrists give up on me, I probably should go. Besides, I have some (more, *sigh*) packing to do to get ready for tomorrow. Whee!!!
~Allison
Meanwhile, I've also finished another big project that I'm rather proud of: My first, official, totally handspun sweater for me!
Timing was excellent also. I finished tucking all the loose ends this morning, then headed to the post office to pick up my next shipment of fiber, which will become this sweater:
Can't tell you all how excited I am! My blue fiber is a tad darker, but I think it will end up just lovely. I never thought I'd love knitting sweaters, but here I am, about to start spinning the yarn for sweater #3. Chris may never get another sweater, though, now that I've seen how quickly sweaters knit up in pixie size!
On the work front, lots has changed that has made the work environment much more friendly. New management, the brief pause between seasons, and less time spent on the phone. It's a lovely break, though the days do tend to drag on a bit when you're simply waiting around for the phone to ring. That's how I got the most recent sweater finished so quickly; lots of time between calls that I didn't want to spend just hanging out on the internet.
I've also had a resurgence in my tendinitis. I went to the doctor last week and had it officially diagnosed in my wrists (it had been diagnosed via MRI in my shoulders, and then a few years later in my ankles, so I always assumed that my wrist problems were tendinitis). Looks like it's back to wearing braces for a while, though I'm working with my employer to see if there's a way to get the specialized braces through them instead of going through insurance and whatnot. Hoping there will be relief soon!
Fortunately, this week only will be a three day work week, as I'm taking a vacation day tomorrow to move into my new apartment (yay, not being "homeless" crashing at my wonderful aunt and uncle's house!), and we have a special day off on Saturday where the office is getting painted. All good things.
Now, before my wrists give up on me, I probably should go. Besides, I have some (more, *sigh*) packing to do to get ready for tomorrow. Whee!!!
~Allison
Friday, June 6, 2014
Where tragedy meets community
It's been a surreal 26 hours. Yesterday, a lone man in his 20s decided to walk onto my college campus into the engineering building and pull out a shotgun. He injured four students, one of them fatally, before another student pepper sprayed him and disarmed him when he stopped to reload. The student who died was a freshman, only nineteen years old. I didn't know any of the victims personally, though I had a couple general education classes with the student who stopped the shooter.
I didn't find out right away what was happening. I was at work downtown, and wasn't paying attention to my computer or my phone. It wasn't until a coworker asked if my boyfriend went to school at SPU and if he was okay that I heard the news. I already had texts from Chris stating that he was okay and locked in one of the music buildings. I stayed glued to my phone and computer for the next hour of work, before the death of Paul Lee made me decide that I needed to go home. I've never wanted to hold Chris more, or more tightly, than I did yesterday.
I've stayed glued to my phone and computer ever since finding out that there had been a shooting. I took today off of work so that I could be home to spend time with Chris, begin to really comprehend everything that happened, and go to campus to be with friends and faculty. I have never been so glad to be part of the SPU community than today.
I got to campus just after the prayer service let out. There were groups of students and faculty scattered around Tiffany Loop, sitting, standing, talking, praying...no one alone. Any time I ran into someone I knew, we hugged and reiterated how unreal this all felt. As I walked towards the music buildings, I stopped to pet some therapy dogs that had come to campus specifically for the students. I found out later than one of the SPU students reached out to the Queen Anne neighborhood in the local newsletter and requested that neighbors walk their dogs through campus so the students could have an opportunity to share that special bond dogs have with people.
Crawford Music Building was totally open to everyone, with doors propped open to the outside, professor's office doors open, but it was still quiet. You could hear hints of people playing music in the practice rooms. I headed over to Beegle Hall (the other music building) to where a bunch of music majors, past and present, were gathered to make music together. I was glad I had my horn with me. I've never tried improvising on horn, but today it was the only outlet I had for everything I was feeling. I know many people would find their voice to be more personal, but I just needed to have access to that full huge range I can only get when playing horn. Something about pedal tones being comforting, I guess.
It was beautiful. Some recordings were taken, so I hope later to post some of them. It wasn't complex music. We usually vamped through two chords, picking phrases to repeat, or simply vocalizing over the chords. People played percussion instruments, guitar, piano, and clarinet. There is nothing like the experience of pure interactive creation and improvisation with other musicians. Was it perfect? No. But it was exactly what we needed: an outlet for our emotions. We prayed, hugged, sat in silence, cried, even laughed a little. Afterwards, a small group of us went for a walk along the canal and talked together.
Is everything better? No, and I don't think it will be any time soon. Was there healing today? Yes, and lots of it. This community, and this city, have to come together on a level that is unbelievable. The feeling of security our campus once had is now gone, shattered in just a few minutes by a man with a gun, but the immense power of a small school's community and faith have only become stronger and more intense in the aftermath. We are together in this. We will support each other and all those affected by what has happened, especially the families and friends of the victims.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
I didn't find out right away what was happening. I was at work downtown, and wasn't paying attention to my computer or my phone. It wasn't until a coworker asked if my boyfriend went to school at SPU and if he was okay that I heard the news. I already had texts from Chris stating that he was okay and locked in one of the music buildings. I stayed glued to my phone and computer for the next hour of work, before the death of Paul Lee made me decide that I needed to go home. I've never wanted to hold Chris more, or more tightly, than I did yesterday.
I've stayed glued to my phone and computer ever since finding out that there had been a shooting. I took today off of work so that I could be home to spend time with Chris, begin to really comprehend everything that happened, and go to campus to be with friends and faculty. I have never been so glad to be part of the SPU community than today.
I got to campus just after the prayer service let out. There were groups of students and faculty scattered around Tiffany Loop, sitting, standing, talking, praying...no one alone. Any time I ran into someone I knew, we hugged and reiterated how unreal this all felt. As I walked towards the music buildings, I stopped to pet some therapy dogs that had come to campus specifically for the students. I found out later than one of the SPU students reached out to the Queen Anne neighborhood in the local newsletter and requested that neighbors walk their dogs through campus so the students could have an opportunity to share that special bond dogs have with people.
Crawford Music Building was totally open to everyone, with doors propped open to the outside, professor's office doors open, but it was still quiet. You could hear hints of people playing music in the practice rooms. I headed over to Beegle Hall (the other music building) to where a bunch of music majors, past and present, were gathered to make music together. I was glad I had my horn with me. I've never tried improvising on horn, but today it was the only outlet I had for everything I was feeling. I know many people would find their voice to be more personal, but I just needed to have access to that full huge range I can only get when playing horn. Something about pedal tones being comforting, I guess.
It was beautiful. Some recordings were taken, so I hope later to post some of them. It wasn't complex music. We usually vamped through two chords, picking phrases to repeat, or simply vocalizing over the chords. People played percussion instruments, guitar, piano, and clarinet. There is nothing like the experience of pure interactive creation and improvisation with other musicians. Was it perfect? No. But it was exactly what we needed: an outlet for our emotions. We prayed, hugged, sat in silence, cried, even laughed a little. Afterwards, a small group of us went for a walk along the canal and talked together.
Is everything better? No, and I don't think it will be any time soon. Was there healing today? Yes, and lots of it. This community, and this city, have to come together on a level that is unbelievable. The feeling of security our campus once had is now gone, shattered in just a few minutes by a man with a gun, but the immense power of a small school's community and faith have only become stronger and more intense in the aftermath. We are together in this. We will support each other and all those affected by what has happened, especially the families and friends of the victims.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Just another female voice in the crowd...
The last week or so has been really tough when it comes to the news. A guy who was my age decided that because (and I'm paraphrasing here) he couldn't get laid, and his head was totally twisted, that it was a good idea to go on a shooting rampage on a college campus to get back at the entire female population.
Now, there are a lot of places I can go with this. I could talk about what it's like to be a woman in our society, dealing with the catcalls and being hit on, even at my workplace. I could go on about gun control and whether it's a good or bad idea. I could try to go off about feminism and equal rights for both genders. I could talk about the mental health crisis in this country.
I'm not certain where I want to go with all of this, except to say that the latest mass murder in our country has put me on edge. I look at the websites I frequent, read the comments (which I highly discourage. Reading the comments on any major forum, especially news sites, has a tendency to depress.), and realize that my country has somehow gotten itself all mixed up.
I'm a redditor. I love lurking around, reading AMAs and looking at cute pictures of kittens. I'm fascinated to get to hear opinions and conversations from people who aren't just American, and who have really interesting thoughts about the current events going on in the U.S, and in general about our culture. There's a dark side to Reddit, too. Because it's an anonymous forum, you will come face-to-face with disturbing amounts of misogyny, racism, sexism, and blatant disregard for other human beings. And, yes, there are a ton of people on different threads that will lament how they're single and not getting laid.
As a female, it would be wonderful if I could walk across a street and either hear nothing at all, or have the guy who needs to assert his dominance yell something about how lovely I look today, rather than, "OOOOWW! DAMN WHAT A NICE ASS!" Nope, I take it back. I don't want the compliments, in any form, I really would rather just be left alone. I'd like to not worry about the consequences of having a job that sometimes means taking public transportation at 10 pm on a Friday or Saturday night and having to walk by myself to transfer buses. I hate that I had to ask my housemates to limit where we look for our next apartment to areas that wouldn't make me feel like I need to have pepper spray, a knife, or to conceal carry.
I also would love to live in a country that identifies and TREATS those with mental health issues. The kid who went murdering girls at his university was clearly unhinged, to the point where his parents and therapist called the cops because they were afraid of what he'd do. The cops said he seemed fine, and now six people are dead. Seven if you count the shooter.
And what makes it real to me is that I've had a guy freak out on me using words that this guy used. A person who decided that even though I said no, I wasn't interested in any physical relationship with them, that they needed to force me into it because I "promised" at some point in time months earlier. No means no. There's no ifs, ands, or buts to that. He ended up blackmailing me, faking a panic attack, and labeling me as just another one of "those girls" who are "teases" and are the reason why he was still a virgin. Was it terrifying? Absolutely. It didn't matter that I was being told these things via phone call and (after deciding I didn't want to hear those things any more and hung up) text message. It didn't matter that I was in a secured area where he couldn't get to me. I was scared out of my mind, because I've never witnessed such behavior. He was blocked through every method I could think of (social media, texts, and phone calls), but the thought of coming into contact with him ever again is horrifying. (To the point that I've described him to coworkers if he ever decided to pay a visit to my workplace)
No one should have to deal with this. Innocent people shouldn't be dying because some mentally disturbed, misogynistic asshole gets access to a weapon and goes out to get revenge.
It's a scary world out there.
Now, there are a lot of places I can go with this. I could talk about what it's like to be a woman in our society, dealing with the catcalls and being hit on, even at my workplace. I could go on about gun control and whether it's a good or bad idea. I could try to go off about feminism and equal rights for both genders. I could talk about the mental health crisis in this country.
I'm not certain where I want to go with all of this, except to say that the latest mass murder in our country has put me on edge. I look at the websites I frequent, read the comments (which I highly discourage. Reading the comments on any major forum, especially news sites, has a tendency to depress.), and realize that my country has somehow gotten itself all mixed up.
I'm a redditor. I love lurking around, reading AMAs and looking at cute pictures of kittens. I'm fascinated to get to hear opinions and conversations from people who aren't just American, and who have really interesting thoughts about the current events going on in the U.S, and in general about our culture. There's a dark side to Reddit, too. Because it's an anonymous forum, you will come face-to-face with disturbing amounts of misogyny, racism, sexism, and blatant disregard for other human beings. And, yes, there are a ton of people on different threads that will lament how they're single and not getting laid.
As a female, it would be wonderful if I could walk across a street and either hear nothing at all, or have the guy who needs to assert his dominance yell something about how lovely I look today, rather than, "OOOOWW! DAMN WHAT A NICE ASS!" Nope, I take it back. I don't want the compliments, in any form, I really would rather just be left alone. I'd like to not worry about the consequences of having a job that sometimes means taking public transportation at 10 pm on a Friday or Saturday night and having to walk by myself to transfer buses. I hate that I had to ask my housemates to limit where we look for our next apartment to areas that wouldn't make me feel like I need to have pepper spray, a knife, or to conceal carry.
I also would love to live in a country that identifies and TREATS those with mental health issues. The kid who went murdering girls at his university was clearly unhinged, to the point where his parents and therapist called the cops because they were afraid of what he'd do. The cops said he seemed fine, and now six people are dead. Seven if you count the shooter.
And what makes it real to me is that I've had a guy freak out on me using words that this guy used. A person who decided that even though I said no, I wasn't interested in any physical relationship with them, that they needed to force me into it because I "promised" at some point in time months earlier. No means no. There's no ifs, ands, or buts to that. He ended up blackmailing me, faking a panic attack, and labeling me as just another one of "those girls" who are "teases" and are the reason why he was still a virgin. Was it terrifying? Absolutely. It didn't matter that I was being told these things via phone call and (after deciding I didn't want to hear those things any more and hung up) text message. It didn't matter that I was in a secured area where he couldn't get to me. I was scared out of my mind, because I've never witnessed such behavior. He was blocked through every method I could think of (social media, texts, and phone calls), but the thought of coming into contact with him ever again is horrifying. (To the point that I've described him to coworkers if he ever decided to pay a visit to my workplace)
No one should have to deal with this. Innocent people shouldn't be dying because some mentally disturbed, misogynistic asshole gets access to a weapon and goes out to get revenge.
It's a scary world out there.
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