Only 6 more hours of The Class from Hell left

I just keep telling myself, "you've been through much worse than this. Think of hospitals." That can't be good for my psyche.

Connections (or) I can sit on my butt and reach out and touch the world

Today has been a day for making connections. I reconnected with N in New Haven (well, I felt like we reconnected, did you?). We haven't talked much lately, not on purpose, we've just both been busy. Talking with him always makes me remember who I am, somehow. I don't really know why. We talked about our respective futures, but it wasn't anything to earthshatteringly profound, and it wasn't a very long conversation at 1am. But, as always, it was good to talk! Thanks, you. I also sent an email off to Herr Plank about my musicological dilemma, and received a nice email back. He didn't solve the problem for me (no one can, I know I know) but he had some good ideas of things I need to think about. And besides, corresponding with him is always wonderful, even if it's just about banal things. I'm now friends with BOTH of my (i think they're first) cousins on my mom's side on the facebook. It's CRAZY that the Little One is all growed up (or getting there, freakin' high school), and the other cousin and I commiserated about that some. He lives in Florida, and we probably haven't seen each other in at least a decade. We were splashing around in a pool at Disney, and that's about my only real memory of him, although of course the family keeps tabs on him. I think I have oodles of cousins on my dad's side, the Italian side, but no first cousins over there. And very few my age. My Floridian cousin and I are a year or so apart I think, and Judy is 15, so she's like my little sister. But my family has always felt small, and so actually being in touch with people who are in my generation is a little weird. I sent the Little One an email today, too! I also talked on gchat (sadly briefly) with friend YH who is traveling the world. I've been following her exploits via LJ, but we haven't actually spoken in too long. I hope we can get caught up soon. And I hope I can keep up this being in touch thing. It's tricky, but worth it.

On an unrelated note, CW and I watched Bill and Ted last night, and it is still a fantabulous movie. I can't believe I haven't watched it in years. I laughed so hard I forgot about Prof. Buttface. More on that tomorrow, so I don't get all riled up before bed.

The times...

I think everything is going to change soon. I'll let you know in two weeks.

The Dilation of Time (or) Weird things that happen when you concentrate

I was thinking today that both academics and musicians are pretty much used to time behaving strangely on us. When you're putting off writing a paper, 5 minutes can seem like an hour. When you're giving a presentation, 20 minutes seems like 10. When you're practicing, I think the direction of the confusion varies, but I can almost guarantee than if I think I've been practicing for a half hour, I'm always wrong. Speaking of practicing, I finally have time to do some of that tomorrow. I've been looking forward to it since last week. Is that sad or awesome? I haven't decided.

In other news, I appear to be allergic to springtime in Boston. Hooray?

My Trip to Texas, Day 1

Note: Apologies to Aphaeresis. I only just remembered your travelogue is in this format, too. Please forgive me! I'm too lazy to rewrite!

Tuesday, April 15, 2008 (All times are approximate)

4:00am: Alarm. Pout at it. Turn it off.

4:15am: Face facts, get up, thank deities that I sent my taxes last week.

4:30am: in shower, realize have not printed federal regulations regarding transport of cellos in airplanes. Call T (who has a printer), ask him to call before leaving house.

4:45am: T calls from outside house, says just got message.

4:50am: Bound like gazelle from house with 37.4 pound suitcase, seemingly equally heavy carry-on containing computer, and cello attached to back.

5:10am: En route to airport, look down and realize shirt is filthy. Why did I put this in my closet on a hanger? There is turmeric on it. Shrug. It is entirely too late. Hope no one looks at my chest all day.

6:55am: Check in at airport. Second leg of trip has been canceled, minus 20 points. Helpful lady knows what instrument that is and what to do with it, plus 1,000,000 points.

7:10am: Get into long security line, holding boarding passes to new itinerary. Have yet to realize implications of departure and arrival times.

7:15am: Someone suggests we might consider other security line which has no wait.

7:16am: Mad rush to other line, en route, endure first “witty” comment of the day: See, this is why you should play the piano!

7:25am: Fully through security. Only snag is left cell phone in pocket as usual. Cello passes with flying colors. No pun intended.

7:35am: Have oddly excellent conversation with Quizno's employee who makes me a half-way decent breakfast sandwich. Promise to send him next CD, though realize have no idea who he his. Stoop to Starbux for absolutely necessary caffeine. Sometimes a junkie can't be so picky.

8:30am: Board airplane. Stewardess thinks she's a comedienne, is actually quite funny. Doesn't know where cello goes, not funny. I make the right guess (front row) and she is redeemed. Continues her redemption by making jokes the entire way through the safety spiel. “If you are traveling with a child, or someone who acts like a child...” etc.

10something: Arrive in Philadelphia. Finish only interesting reading material brought in carry-on. Am left with only books for school. Curse you, Sense of Responsibility! Why did I let you pack my carry-on!

10something01: Purchase Self and Time magazines. Suck on THAT, school work!

12:50pm: Depart for Austin. By way of Columbus, St. Louis, and Dallas. Crap. Stewardess asks how long I'm with them. When I tell her she looks worried, goes to the back of the plane, returns bearing a People magazine. “Here, I just finished this, you're going to need it.”

2:20pm: Land in Columbus. Call Dad. “Guess what state I'm in!”

2:45pm: In air. Large man has taken up all of seat next to mine, plus part of my own. Cello is better seat partner.

(Change time zones. Centrality of time strangely comforting.)

3:05pm: Land in St Louis. Call boss who has forgotten I am ON A PLANE and called to see why I wasn't at work. All is settled. Call cello insurance, apparently coverage hadn't started yet. Explain to them it's very important as I am currently ON A PLANE, and was not the one who put someone else's bow appraisal in my cello's file. All is settled.

3:30pm: In air. Move to other side of aisle, as diplomatically as possible. Large man doesn't seem overly offended, makes small crack about crowding me. Probably used to it, as is VERY large. Exhaust Time magazine.

5:15pm: Land in Dallas. This airport is called Love Field. Large man leaves, turns out to have been quite pleasant after all. Pilot tells us there's "a big ole high pressure system over Texas.” Think I'm going to like it here.

6:30pm: Arrive in Austin. Baggage claim is suspiciously painless. Southwest has friendly employees and competent baggage handling? What's the catch...

6:45pm: J arrives, retrieves me in SUV. Comfy SUV. Am I a traitor to Oberlin if I begin to accept not only SUVs, but SUVs in TEXAS?

Evening: Gorge self on amazing sushi, excellent sake. Try sea urchin, decide it's like licking a custardy tide pool. Do not like sea urchin. Love signature roll of restaurant: salmon, sun-dried tomato, spicy mayonnaise with squid ink sauce drizzled around it. Also love “Japanese comfort food” with name I can not remember much to my lingering frustration!

11pm: Collapse. Bed makes horrible creaky noise under weight of collapse. Too tired to care.

Squee

Reading this on OCon made my day:

God damn ObieGame you are eating my life! What the hell have you done? This is insanity!! How am I supposed to focus on the shit ton of work I have to do before tonight when you drop this all on us this morning?!! GOD DAMN YOU!!!

Weirded out!

My cousin and I are friends on the facebook now. Is this how people with siblings feel when they suddenly realize their little sibs are nearly adults?

Texas, Day 2

I ate too much meat today for lunch, at a BBQ place. Prof R told me to "get some brisket (if you’re not vegetarian) and have a great time," so I obliged him on the first, and the second seems to be shaping up as well. After we'd eaten most of a cow, we washed our hands in one of these, which is actually as intimidating as it looks in those pictures. Now I'm sitting in my room, putting off the work I need to get done, listening to a gay man, a metrosexual, and an Australian discuss various musicians' short-comings in the other room.

Dios mio, nooooo!

Here I am in Texas! Austin, to be precise. It's a nice place, I think! We went out for TONS (read: NOT AN EXAGGERATION) of sushi, and delicious, expensive sake. It's nice to be taken out every now and then, although I do always feel a bit embarrassed when people spend money on my behalf. Tomorrow, I actually learn the music for the concert I'm here for, and we have our first rehearsal. More later, when I haven't been up for a billion hours.

Bonus: +10 points if you know what my subject is referencing.

On to the next one

Had my meeting this morning.  Wasn't as bad as I feared, or as it could have been, but he tried to make small talk, and that was just awkward.  He actually said "there's a lot of states around here."  I was dumbfounded, and only managed to say, "um, that's...true..."  The other good one was where he said, "there's a style of writing that's ok for...emails, and spoken language, and then there's a style that's more appropriate for a paper."  OH!  THAT'S what I've been missing all these years.  Silly me, I though I could just write in vernacular expressions and spell things however I want.  I'm sure glad he cleared that up.

Le Sigh

Well, my rough draft and bibliography are sent. Brace yourselves for a whole new wave of condescension, with the attendant complaining on my part.

Stikes again

Background: We left it that I would send my work over the weekend, with a meeting to discuss on Tuesday morning. He told me to send it by Monday, and since I have class all morning, I have been planning to (and will) send it by tonight. I just got these two emails:

Hello Jane:

I understand how busy you have been with your recital, so I am giving you an extension on this deadline, but please keep in mind we really need to see considerable progress on your project soon, especially since you plan to be gone for the next two weeks and your final project will be posted online for all the world to see.

I am hoping to receive your outline and annotated bibliography by noon tomorrow.

I look forward to reading it.

Followed less than a minute later by:

Hello Jane:

Actually, by Monday at 7pm will be okay for me.

How necessary were either of these two emails? Let the record also reflect the fact that the only reason I'm missing two classes in a row is that he scheduled an additional class on what was supposed to be a no-class day. So is there any way to tactfully get across the fact that I'm not actually an irresponsible student, when the problem is in fact his own perceptions and lack of clear communication?

Well, crap.

So...I don't think I want to be a musicologist. Now what?

P.S.

As an addendum to why this week apparently sucks, between 10pm last night when I left work and 11:30am this morning when I went to retrieve my leftover pad thai for lunch, someone had decided to liberate it from the fridge, whether to eat it or throw it away I don't know. What is wrong with these people? Why can't you just leave my food alone? I'm hungry.

Squinty Eyed Anger

I have complained about my Wednesday night class before. The teacher treats us like we're children, not grad students. He uses phrases such as: "Please come prepared to represent BU's graduate program to the rest of the world" (when we had a guest lecture) and "I can see that you have potential, but I didn't see that here" (when his unclear instructions caused me to turn in something "rougher" than he wanted). For christ's sake, I'm 24. When I said, "well, I apologize. I didn't fully understand what you were asking for, and there has been so much changing of the schedule that I was also a little unclear as to what was due when. I'm happy to work with you to give you what you were looking for," he said, "the due dates never changed." And then, "well, you are ultimately responsible for how well you do in this class, I'm just trying to help you." Passive aggressive, much? This brings me to a larger problem here, which is that, since coming here, I have spent quite a bit of time suppressing my rage and fighting the urge to do physical damage to people and objects. Not that I ever would, or could do that, but this is not conducive to learning. Clearly, I am sitting here fuming 24 hours after that little chat, unable to concentrate on the work I apparently didn't do a week ago. The fact that he thought he needed to sit me down and talk to me about my "performance" in the class, rather than discuss with me the questions that I had included when I submitted the document in question (i.e. "Please let me know if this is not what you were looking for, as I have been a little unclear on this assignment") drives me crazy. It's like he only knows what to do with a problematic student, so he's decided I am one. This might be a decent time to add that the project in question basically ethnography, in that we have to go out into Boston to look at a local, current music-making. Fascinating, I'm sure. But I'm not an ethnomusicologist for a reason, and this is not an ethnomusicology class. I don't enjoy interviewing people, and I don't enjoy being condescended to. Between him, Marty, and money, I'm this close to telling this place to shove it. I came for graduate level education and quasi-professional experiences, not high school quality "academic guidance" and narrow minded artistic direction. People keep telling me to just grin and bear it, but am I really such a reactionary pain in the ass to object to this kind of thing in a program I'm paying to attend?

Thunder! Lightning!

I love thunderstorms. They remind me of...things. Lots of things. My mom, first of all, and our house on 124th Street where I used to go play in the puddle that the driveway became after a storm. I'm pretty sure I had a raincoat that I loved, or boots or something. Those are foggy but strong memories. We used to walk to a deli/convenience store nearby for ice cream etc in the summer. The place was called Beck's Deli, which my mom always called Deck's Belly. One time we were walking home, and it started to thunder. I was probably 7 or 8. I wasn't afraid of thunderstorms, but I yelped and hollered, "Lightniiiing!" and grabbed my mom's arm. I was probably trying to be funny. She started laughing hysterically, and so did I, and from then on, even all through high school and into college, "Lightniiing!" was yelped to herald almost every storm. Thunderstorms also remind me of summers in Oberlin and walking home to East Lorain after being at the Feve. The rain almost always stopped by then, and the walk home was shiny, not soggy. And they remind me of Kinhaven, where the daily thunderstorm moved in so quickly over the hills that you didn't even see it coming until it was mostly over. You still got drenched, though. I love storms, but they make me nostalgic.

What, Faye always looks like that!

If I didn't love xkcd, questionable content, and dinosaur comics before today, I would now.

In other news, I now have 7 new books to read for fun. And one big old reading assignment for class on Wednesday. Boo on school!