"the music has much more to teach you...

about yourself than you have to teach the music about itself."

Thus were some of the first words that the SoCal Women's honor choir conductor, Lauri Marie, spoke to us. It gave me a refreshing look at choral music this weekend, and one I hope to never lose sight of. I find it so easy, after being immersed in the world of choir for so many years, to get in a mode of "been there, done that" and to desensitize myself to the art out of an emotional state of indifference. I can't be thankful enough for the experiences like the one I've had this weekend that remind me why I love doing what I do.

What the music taught me about myself this weekend:

1. the relational connections I make in the process of making art turn into some of the most enduring friendships I will ever have

Coming back to honor choir this year, I knew a large group of people that I had made friends with over summer at Idyllwild Arts Academy. No a lot in the world is more electrifying than spending time with people that know you, your passion, and the strengths and weaknesses of your talent. To be able to build each other up and revel in the beauty the music that you make together strengthens an unbreakable spiritual connection.

2. Speaking in "ob" is completely pointless if the person your speaking to repeats back everything you say in normal language, at the top of their lungs.

This is completely not about music, but something I learned this weekend nonetheless. My friend and I have this "secret language" where we insert "ob" before every syllabic sound in a word. We're both quite fluent so its pretty useful. This came in extreme use during the weekend with her being a soprano 1 and me often being a soprano II/alto I and sitting a few chairs away from each other. I would loudly tell her something across the room and nobody would be able to tell what I said except for her! However...it didn't always work out that way.

For example:

Me: "Bobethobanoby! Obim tobtoballoby obin lobove wobith thobat obasobian gobuy obin thoba frobont obof thobe roboom."

Bethany: (at the top of her lungs) DID YOU JUST SAY YOU WERE TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH THE ASIAN GUY AT THE FRONT OF THE ROOM?

thanks, beth. thanks.

3. Go for what you want with 100% commitment, even if you think you'll be a fool

That's something that I've really been struggling with lately. I've never exactly been one to take chances, especially since most of the time when I do it turns out awful, I get hurt, I fail, etc...I've been trying to turn around my bad patterns and habits and take (healthy) risks. I figure the more I get rejected, the less it will hurt, right? Ok, no to some extent and in relational experiences, but when it comes to putting yourself out there in the world of music, that statement holds some serious weight.

There was a solo opportunity for our opening Czechoslovakian piece, and going up against thirty of the most earnest, talented singers in SoCal, there was no way I had a chance. I went for it anyways, because what did I have to lose? My pride, I suppose...but that was gone the moment I accidentally blared a high F, all by myself, on an entrance that the alto's weren't suppose to be singing.

So I went for it.

And I got it.

4. When it turns out you are an utter fool, there's nothing to do except smile, and take your bow

So, the solo I sang was supposed to be some sort of Czech mountain call, so to increase the dramatic and aesthetic impact on the audience, I was to sing it in a balcony, far, far away from the rest of the choir. The solo went great, but I had to zoom down the stairs in order to make it to the stage by the time the song was over so I wouldn't stall the program. I got down there, walked up the stairs, and in my haste walked straight to my position in the front row of the risers.

oops.

I had the entire choir shooing me back to the front of the stage to take the bow I neglected to remember that I was suppose to take.

ouch.

So I ran back to the front of the stage to a conductor who was cracking up at me and an audience laughing and applauding, and took my bow.

All on camera.

5. wisdom, knowledge, and talent only qualify you as noise pollution if you don't have love

The unbelievable commitment, passion, and love that our conductor expressed for us through her dedication to excellence and steadfastness to the integrity of the music was awe-inspiring. I was fortunate enough to take a few conducting courses from her in Idyllwild (she was one of the many conductors we had up there as well) where she said something this affect: above all technique, education, and ability, the one thing that makes an excellent conductor, is a good person.

An hour before our performance, she told us that a week and a half prior to the Honor Choir weekend, her mother had died of cancer. Firstly, I couldn't believe she still followed through with her commitment to us. Secondly, with so many of the songs about love, mourning, death, specifically the relationship between mother and child...it put everything in a new perspective.

The Ballad of Love and Hate

Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.
My vacations ending. I'm coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
and I can't wait to see you again.

Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
"No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,
and also when she comes down.

Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
with a serious look on his face.

Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
of the strongest stuff you can drink.

Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,
cause he might never see her again.

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?
I'm your and that's it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm your's and that's it, forever."

You're mine and that's it, forever.

(via The Avett Brothers)

yeeessshhh

So, today I had a piano lesson. With the best teacher that ever walked the planet. Ok, a bit of a hyperbole I admit...

but really, I totally love my teacher. Plus we're both Capricorns.

So, great lesson and at the end I played for her my recital piece that I've been working on for a few weeks. It's four weeks out and I'm starting to get a little nervous about it. Four weeks seems like a long time...when you don't have a recital piece to memorize and perfect :/ Plus, apparently I'm the "closing act." What do people always remember about piano recitals?

#1. Their kid's song
#2. The last song (aka me)

Soooo the pressure is ooonnn...and I can't say I'm exactly confident about my abilities. My history of playing has been rocky at best and I'm not nearly as good as I should be for having played the instrument since the age of five...

Anyways, I played my piece, I did what I thought was ok, my lovably crazy teacher started laughing at the end of my song as she does at the end of every song, when I hear a booming applause behind my head and a loud,

"GOD you're a fantastic player!"

and who should be standing at the door, watching my entire performance (unbeknownst to me), than the electric guitar teacher at the studio. *momentary swoon*

I don't think I've felt that good all week.

All I'm saying...is that sometimes its feels really good to know that you're actually good.

Time to be emo.

Last week my mother collapsed and got sent to the ER. When they measured her blood level, it was less than half of what it was supposed to be, so she was given two blood transfusions. She's home now, and regaining strength, but it was traumatic nonetheless. What boiled my insides the most about the entire ordeal was the looming fog of helplessness over my entire family; that feeling of being completely and utterly alone, no matter how many people came to visit and "console", or how many dinners the comfort club at church sent over. Above everything else, what bothered me the most was what everybody was thinking that nobody had the guts to utter: she could have died.

Above all profanities, insults, and lies the tongue can spew, I've come to realize that the word "tomorrow" is the single most detrimental word in the English language.

Tomorrow I'll write that letter I've been intending to.
Tomorrow I'll make that phone call.
Tomorrow I'll catch up on my chemistry work.
Tomorrow I'll stop missing you.
Tomorrow I'll stop wishing we were still friends.
Tomorrow I'll stop expecting you to change.
Tomorrow I'll have more confidence.
Tomorrow I'll pay the application fee for CSUF.
Tomorrow I'll start eating healthier.
Tomorrow I'll go to the gym.
Tomorrow I'll clean the bathrooms.
Tomorrow I'll tell my parents I love them.
Tomorrow I'll wake up early.
Tomorrow I'll read my bible.
Tomorrow I'll devote an hour to prayer.
Tomorrow I'll organize my drawers.
Tomorrow I'll finish reading the pile of books next to my bed.
Tomorrow I'll stop blaming my problems on my weight.
Tomorrow I'll stop hating guys.
Tomorrow I'll check my grades.
Tomorrow I'll start voice lessons.
Tomorrow I'll practice my conducting.
Tomorrow I'll mature.
Tomorrow I'll act Godly.
Tomorrow I'll start saving my money.
Tomorrow I'll stop getting a sick feeling in my stomach every time I think of you.
Tomorrow I'll floss my teeth more.
Tomorrow I'll prep for the piano lessons I am teaching.
Tomorrow I'll confront my dad.
Tomorrow I'll make a plan.
Tomorrow I'll stop regretting my poor grades.
Tomorrow I'll start living up to my potential.
Tomorrow I'll reach out to her.
Tomorrow I'll stop wishing I were someone else.
Tomorrow I'll start acting the way I think and thinking the way I act.

and that list is only the beginning. Its utterly disgusting how much I tell myself everyday that I will do tomorrow and how much we measure our lives by how long our life-long "to-do" list is, and what we plan to do.

The list becomes so long that it completely consumes us. The paper list of unchecked boxes entangles our eyes, hearts, and minds, so that we're blinded, suffocated by what we have yet to commit our lives to. We put it off, and off, and off, and off...

and soon we measure our worth not by what we plan to do, but by what we never get around to doing: to being.

Who am I to be anything less than what God has created me to be?









nothing.

time for something new

It's been quite a while since I've posted here, but I think I know why I haven't had such an urge to blog recently. For me, blogging is an outlet to express, mostly, when I feel uncomfortable about things.

Frankly, especially as of about a week ago, I've been swimming in contentment. I know that probably means some really uncomfortable things are soon to come...God never lets you stay too comfortable for too long...but I'm enjoying it while it lasts.

I can feel myself growing up. Daily revelations about friendship, love, life, etc...

The more I'm learning, the less I know, and all the more I understand.

Standing up for myself.
Not getting so hung up on what other people do to themselves.
Caring more about what I can do for them.
Accepting relationships for what they're going to be.
Not having to have control over everything.
Following through with my commitments.
Knowing my self worth.
Falling completely in love with the people around me
while guarding my heart.
Having confidence in what I do.
Singing as loud as I can.
Investing my time in my relationships.
Looking forward to tomorrow.
Not regretting yesterday.

Being no one but myself.

ENFP

I don't know why indepth personality tests have always intruiged me so much...
but they do :P

just took the Myer-Briggs(or something like that) test andgot a pretty indepth result. Siiiccckkkkk:


You are a Champion. [yay!] An ENFP:

Like the other Idealists, Champions are rather rare, say two or three percent of the population, but even more than the others they consider intense emotional experiences as being vital to a full life. Champions have a wide range and variety of emotions, and a great passion for novelty. They see life as an exciting drama, pregnant with possibilities for both good and evil, and they want to experience all the meaningful events and fascinating people in the world. The most outgoing of the Idealists, Champions often can't wait to tell others of their extraordinary experiences. Champions can be tireless in talking with others, like fountains that bubble and splash, spilling over their own words to get it all out. And usually this is not simple storytelling; Champions often speak (or write) in the hope of revealing some truth about human experience, or of motivating others with their powerful convictions. Their strong drive to speak out on issues and events, along with their boundless enthusiasm and natural talent with language, makes them the most vivacious and inspiring of all the types.

Fiercely individualistic, Champions strive toward a kind of personal authenticity, and this intention always to be themselves is usually quite attractive to others. At the same time, Champions have outstanding intuitive powers and can tell what is going on inside of others, reading hidden emotions and giving special significance to words or actions. In fact, Champions are constantly scanning the social environment, and no intriguing character or silent motive is likely to escape their attention. Far more than the other Idealists, Champions are keen and probing observers of the people around them, and are capable of intense concentration on another individual. Their attention is rarely passive or casual. On the contrary, Champions tend to be extra sensitive and alert, always ready for emergencies, always on the lookout for what's possible.

Champions are good with people and usually have a wide range of personal relationships. They are warm and full of energy with their friends. They are likable and at ease with colleagues, and handle their employees or students with great skill. They are good in public and on the telephone, and are so spontaneous and dramatic that others love to be in their company. Champions are positive, exuberant people, and often their confidence in the goodness of life and of human nature makes good things happen.

Joan Baez, Phil Donahue, Paul Robeson, Bill Moyer, Elizibeth Cady Stanton, Joeseph Campbell, Edith Wharton, Sargent Shriver, Charles Dickens, and Upton Sinclair are examples of Idealist Champions

welll....that encouraging.

:P

affirmation

Call it what you want: laziness, insecurity, insanity, idiocy, indifference, shallowness, selfishness, or pride...

there will always be people that desecrate your expectations.

But, through all the wasted time and energy and emotions, I can't say that its not a good feeling to be able to sit down at the end of it all - after you've experienced all the heartache and worry you can possibly handle -

take a deep breath,
(then a heavy sigh)

share your thoughts,

and know that what you did was the right thing - regardless of whether or not it turned out how I assumed or hoped it would.

and its worth it. Not settling for less, that is.

It proves that I know my self worth and I know that God has more for me than what I was willing to give to myself,

(and that from here on out)

it can only get better.

<3