Theory really does make a better musician!
Background: I have my Royal Conservatory of Music Grade 8 piano. I passed it (by the skin of my teeth) when I was in Grade 11. Or was it Grade 12? Anyway. Years ago.
Saying that makes me feel old.
Since I played and passed the exam, I’ve hardly touched the piano. Sure, I’ve gone through stages of playing semi-regularly, but I haven’t been home long enough to actually improve. Weekends. Reading weeks. Christmas break. My repertoire was small and not expanding.
But I missed it. A lot. I’m a musician. I’m the one who’s singing at the top of her lungs in church, who tries to sing harmony even though she’s shy about sticking out and messing up, swaying back and forth so she can’t share the hymn book with anyone unless they hold it. I might hum while walking around campus, might whistle on my way home from Christian hymnody class. I can’t resist playing a scale when I see a piano with the lid up and the pump organ at M’s house fascinates me.
So, last year, I started looking at digital pianos, something that could fit in my car, but was reasonably good quality. When I decided I wasn’t willing to spend $2200 on it, but wasn’t going to be really happy with anything else, I gave up.
And then, I overheard a co-worker talking about selling his digital piano. I jumped on it. Bought it sight unseen. And had some mild buyer’s remorse from it. It’s 75 unweighted keys with only three dynamic ranges: p, mf, f.
It was pretty mild buyer’s remorse though. It was incredibly cheap. And you know what? It might be a piece of crap, but I don’t think I’ve played piano so much since the last week before my Grade 8 exam. My repertoire has actually grown and I can tell that I’m a better pianist.
I don’t think the latter is from having a cheap, crappy piano that I play worship music and hymns on all the time though. On a bit of a whim, I decided to take a theory course this term. It’s hard. At least, some of it is hard. I haven’t had to figure out what interval I’m hearing in years. I had forgotten the meanings of augmented and diminished chords. I’ve never known what counterpoint is. And singing with solfege syllables while conducting?
But, surprisingly, I’m doing well! Ok, maybe not on the dictation part, but the rest balances it out quite nicely. Even better, I’m noticing it in my playing. Suddenly, learning new songs (though the ones I pick are not difficult…) is coming easily to me. Chords are falling under my fingers and I’m noticing cadences and phrases more readily than I used to.
I wish I had known how theory can actually affect your playing when I was busy almost failing my piano exams.
Athleticism versus physical fitness
When I was a kid in elementary school, I was actually an athlete. Surprised? I used to play volleyball, soccer, and even road hockey. I ran cross country and even won track and field for my division at my school every year from grade 4 or so to grade 7.
Grade 8 I was angsty and uninterested. I think that’s where the downward turn happened. I didn’t get along with the type of girls that played sports. I prefered solo activities like piano and writing. In grade 9, I quit playing soccer and turned solely to other artistic pursuits.
Sometimes, like this weekend, I regret that decision. M is athletic. He plays volleyball, hockey, badminton. This weekend, he had a volleyball tournament in Belleville. While he played and had fun, I sat on the bleachers and tried to catch enough of the game so I could at least know if they won or lost. A lot of the time, I was bored stiff. While being bored, I found myself thinking about how my life could have gone in a very different direction. What if I had stopped playing piano instead of soccer? Perhaps I would have become a team player and far more of a people person than I am.
I doubt, however, that I would be in better shape. For about 40 minutes, the length of one of M’s volleyball games, I went for a run. (Through a cemetery, at that. On Halloween.) I think, with the help of my mother, my childhood athleticism has transitioned into a desire for physical fitness. Instead of playing a sport, I’d prefer to run for an hour. I find myself competitive against myself. I enjoy walking for 25 minutes to get to school in the mornings and in the evenings.
M is athletic. I focus on being in shape. I just hope we can maintain what we’ve got as we get older.
You might think you know that hymn…
This is All Things Bright and Beautiful, right?
Actually, it seems there is disagreement.
Sorry for the corny videos.
I can’t decide which tune I think fits better with the words.
More burnout
The last time I wrote anything serious was Christmas time. I may have written some heartsick love poetry at the beginning of the winter last year, but I’ve never held any delusions about my poetry being particularly good.
Perhaps I am too lazy to be a writer. Or perhaps I need to change my definition and reorganize my goals.
I’ve written enough blog posts in the past 6 years to fill more volumes than anyone wants to read. Because of my desire to spill my guts all over the internet, I’ve never really stopped writing. Further, I’ve read blogs that have a quality of writing that is superior to a lot of stuff that’s in print. No matter what Prof. Arrogance says, I believe there is literary merit in the blogsphere.
Of course, nothing that can be cashed in on, really. But there’s very little money in print nowadays anyway.
A question for the girl unlocking her bike outside of the library
Why, for goodness sake, are you wearing flip flops?
I thought I was an idiot for wearing a non-waterproof shoe and only three layers of shirt. Really, I need to pull out my waterproof winter boots and a proper coat. But you, my dear, have surpassed me.
Anyone want to enlighten me on the fascination with flip flops when it’s cold and rainy out? Please?
Beep test
My mom is taking a course in fitness of some kind as she works toward her certificate in kinesiology distance ed from our Rural Ontario farm. (If you remember, I may have mentioned my personal trainer from time to time in this blog. That’s her.)
For her course, she needs to do fitness assessments on people. She asked me and of course, being the good daughter that I am, I agreed. After our final wedding dress shopping trip, we found a flat space and pretended I was on a track to do the first phase of it: walking, then running.
And then, tonight, I did the second phase on my own at the Catholic school track down the street.
A *&@#^%$ Beep test!
I did one in high school. It was torture then and it wasn’t much less torture now. The requirement is that you run 20 meters in shorter and shorter lengths of time, signified by beeps. When I failed the first beep after level 5 was called, I gave up and packed it in. It took all of 10 minutes, at the very most and took me well over 30 minutes to regain composure. If I hadn’t been feeling so terrible, I might have gone for a run in the dark on that beautiful track.
I’m going to get M to do the beep test this weekend. Aren’t I evil?
All complaining aside, it was kind of cool. And, I’ll admit, somewhat affirming. Turns out level 5 is a fair score and nothing, really, to be ashamed of! Perhaps I should set a goal? Reach level 6 before Christmas, level 7 before the wedding?
Or maybe not.
Because I am a blogger…
… and because I’m getting married, I’ve joined the masses and started a wedding blog.
Keeping it kind of separate means I can stress out there and then come back here and post something completely unrelated and remind myself I have a life outside of wedding planning. Also, keeping it separate means that if you don’t want to, you don’t have to know anything at all about my descent into the insanity of a wedding.
This blog will also not stream to Facebook. That means you only get to read about my wedding if you want to read about my wedding.
The school thing
In first year, my GPA dropped about 5%. I partially blame the guy in residence who laughed at me when he found me reading my psychology text book in the first week of classes. I don’t know why, but I believed him when he told me I wouldn’t have to do any work for the first week.
I also blame DC++. Which is more like blaming myself than anything else.
Anyway, that first semester ruined my chances at getting on the deans list easily. I fought a 75% average for 3.5 years, finally managing to break a few goals and get pretty darn close to that level of achievement.
But even in first year, I didn’t get so discouraged. So far this year, I’ve had my worst mark of my university career and two mediocre marks of the kind I haven’t seen since my very first semester.
Granted, I breathed a sigh of relief at the 71% I got on my music theory dictation quiz. Dictation means ear tests. I always sucked at ear. And this course is something I’m doing purely for myself. I promised myself when I signed up and didn’t drop the class that I would be OK with the marks I got. Even the mediocre ones.
But getting a mediocre mark in a course that was supposed to be my bird course is a bit of a different story. Especially when said assignment is a 2nd year level film analysis assignment. Analysis is what I do! Granted, not often on film. And never for a prof who is so arrogant, I can hardly bear to sit through class. (I have never heard a prof shamelessly promote himself so much. Nor look down on his students in disgusted glee so much.)
Good thing there’s five of these assignments. If I haven’t learned to figure out what a prof wants and give it to him/her by now, I don’t know what I’ve learned. I kind of wish I had learned more than that. I haven’t even read all the books an English major is supposed to have read. I didn’t go to school looking for an MRS degree. (I’m also not leaving school with one, despite getting married. Read: Married, happily, life-changingly, yes. Mrs. no. kthanx.) If you haven’t picked up on it by now, I’m starting to wonder if that’s all my English degree will be worth.
(Of course, if you know me at all, you know I don’t give up. I will finish this thing, I won’t, ultimately, regret my choice, and I will find something to do other than being a housewife. I would make a terrible housewife. My house proves it.)
Bridal pressures
I went wedding dress shopping on Tuesday.
I am fortunate to have a body type that looks good in the majority of wedding dress styles. (I like to think the running I did a while back plays some role in this.) I tried on and liked enough wedding dresses that I almost started to hate wedding dresses by the end of it all.
I tried on dresses like this:
And like this:
And like this:
(Obviously, I didn’t try on any of these dresses, or any dresses that are TOO similar to this.)
Dresses was probably the very first wedding topic M and I talked about after we got engaged. We flipped through picture after picture on the Internet. I don’t think most girls do this with their fiances. I’m glad I did though. I discovered there are some styles I like that he doesn’t. Like this one:
He says dresses like this remind him of nightgowns.
Anyway. The point is, he has opinions. He says he’s only been to one wedding where he really liked the wedding dress, in fact, like a very typical man, can’t even remember most of the others.
But the problem is not that he has opinions. It’s not even that he isn’t supposed to see the dress before the day (doesn’t want to see the dress before the day, in fact) and therefore can’t give his opinion.
I think the problem is SOCIETY. It’s very easy to blame society for things isn’t it? I can’t remember how old I was when I first heard the ideology that no one can be more beautiful than a bride on her wedding day. Even an ugly bride is more beautiful than any one of her guests.
I didn’t realize how much pressure this puts on a bride until I became a bride-to-be myself. How can you guarantee that the dress you pick will draw the reaction you want from those watching you? And even more importantly, from your groom? More than anything, I want him to think I’m beautiful.
(Yes, I know he already does. And he’s told me he doesn’t REALLY care that much, that there aren’t very many dresses out there that really blow him away, mostly because he doesn’t care that much about the dress. But still, what if he thinks my dress is ridiculous, or boring and his favourite wedding dress is still his cousin’s from two years ago?)
Anyway, I found a dress. I found a couple dresses, really. The Internet says you’re supposed to burst into tears of joy when you put on YOUR wedding dress. I didn’t do that. Seriously, does anyone? There might have been a little more of a grin than with other dresses. An affirmation of favouritism when I tried it on a second time at the end of the day. But now, I’m second guessing myself. What if it actually makes me look dumpy and the pedestal at the store is just making me look taller? What if it’s too over-the-top, too modern, too odd, too much or too little crinoline, not enough coverage, too much fabric, too little bling, too much bling?
(The dress does not have all of those things. But, M reads this blog on occasion. I don’t want him knowing too much!)
And the biggest fear with almost all of the dresses I tried on on Tuesday… what if there’s too much skirt on whatever dress I pick and I end up standing at arms length to the man I’m marrying our whole wedding day?
The dBs meet the Vs
My parents drove 4.5 hours to meet M’s parents this weekend. We had a delicious meal of M’s mom’s lasagne, and the wine my parents brought.
Aside: Why is 20 Bees going out of business?
The weekend went pretty smoothly. I was worried about awkward pauses and long, dragged out silences. There were none. Perhaps the wine had something to do with that?
I have a feeling though that I’m not a very good bride-to-be. There gets to be a point at which I just don’t want to talk about wedding stuff anymore. We hashed out guest numbers, money numbers, engagement party details, and far too many small details that felt rather premature. Sunday afternoon we were still having hour long conversations about gift registries and guests and I didn’t know how to make it stop.
I’m glad that M and I are taking a day to ourselves today, even though it’s mostly a day of me doing school work.
