Bits

I’m having a lovely taste of what this summer might be like. I have today off, since I took a co-worker’s shift on Monday. It’s sunny; I have all the windows open. I read a whole book. (Witch Boy, by Russell Moon. Odd.) I doodled about on my laptop. I played my cello for two hours straight. (Much black stuff came off onto my fingertips. Ew. But wow, what a workout. I’m looking forward to keeping this up.) I walked to the pharmacy and did some postal stuff I’d been meaning to do.

I feel fantastic. And I still have a couple of hours before orchestra.

I also moved the coffee table out of the middle of the living room. It just seemed like the thing to do. It’s almost as if with more room in here, I’m in a better mood. No, it doesn’t make sense. Without the table, though, I feel more relaxed, less stressed, less shut in, I suppose. And there’s room for me to lie down on the floor with the laptop, or to set up my cello without moving a bunch of stuff around. When I was a teenager I used to move my room around when I felt like it; it gave me a sense of control over my environment and the freedom to move physical furniture around to reflect my mental furniture. It’s amazing how different life can seem just because you’ve switched the positioning of things around you.

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So I’m brushing my hair last night, and I looked in the mirror, and – hey, when did my hair get so long? It was only a month or so ago that I was moaning about how I wanted Pre-Raphaelite locks cascading down my back, and I was all mopy about how it would never happen. Looking over my shoulder into the mirror, I can see I’m mostly there all of a sudden.

My hair is acting in a peculiar fashion. I decided a while ago to put an end to the never-ending cycle of chromatic experiments that I’d been doing for the past couple of years, and to put a seal on it I resolved to henna my hair, which is the kiss of death if you ever want to use chemical colour again. Natural herbal colour and chemical colour don’t mix well at all. (Think of that scene in Anne of Green Gables where her hair turns green, and you’ve pretty much got it.) So I did my research, ordered some brown henna, and did the deed last weekend. Now my hair is more like I remember it: thicker, wavy, even. And, apparently, longer. I cringe when I think about the chemical damage I must have done. Henna is a natural conditioner that’s great for your hair and scalp, and heaven knows I needed help. Maybe my hair is rewarding me.

It’s a beautiful day today – more like what we expect from late June in Montreal. Sunny, a bit humid. I never cease to be amazed at how much of an effect the weather has on my mood.

I taught another class last night. At the end of a workshop I always ask if there was something the students would have liked to seen more of, less of, explained differently. Last night when I asked, all they did was thank me for being clear, concise, unbiased, and dynamic. I even got a round of applause. Not only that, they all decided to come back for my next workshop in two weeks as well. I think I must have hit on something, here. I’m always surprised when people enjoy my workshops – not because I think they’re bad (I work too hard on them for them to be anything but good!), but because I think those attending will be left rather neutral towards me and the material. All I’m doing is giving them information, after all, or guiding them though an exploration process where they discover their own answers. I keep forgetting that while I’ve known this material for a while, they’re all new to it, so it’s two solid hours of discovery and communion with others of like mind, where as individuals they often think they’re alone in their interests. The newness of it all, plus the bonus of meeting others, has to be exciting. I must be facilitating this excitement and discovery is some sort of constructive fashion. As much as I think I’m not a people person, a friend pointed out to me the other day that I care about others, which automatically makes me a people person whether I like it or not. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be as approachable. Which makes sense, in an irritating sort of way. The reason people like being with me and seek me out is because I’m a decent human being, even if I’d prefer to be alone a lot of the time. Seems contradictory, but it isn’t. Alas.

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As if Vanilla Coke wasn’t enough of a discovery, now I’ve found a new chocolate bar too: the Hershey’s Sidekick. The wrapper says, “Milk Chocolate, Peanut Butter and Soft Nougats”. (Nougats? I though “nougat” was a collective term, like “chocolate”. But I digress.)

In reality, what they’ve done with this new chocolate bar is a simple case of cross-breeding a Mars Bar with a Wunderbar.

It is soft and yummy. It is evil.

Two Vanilla Cokes left.

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Marika Bournaki is the name of the eleven-year-old pianist who knocked my slippers off with the Chopin. Here’s a full list of the performers and their pieces; you can click on each name for a full list of their accomplishments.

And what have I done with my life?

Just kidding. These kids have had opportunities that didn’t come my way, that’s all. I chose different paths. What a world lies ahead of them, though…

Youth And Talent

I love promoting interest in the arts. I particularly love promoting the arts to young people.

In this case, however, it sounds like the young people are at a point I’ll probably never reach in my lifetime.

CBC Radio Two is broadcasting a series of performances across the country called Up and Coming, a series that showcases a variety of musical talent aged nineteen and under. I’ve been listening incredulously as violins, pianos and cellos stream out from my speakers and repeatedly distract me from my at-home work today. The final straw came when I heard the best rendition of Chopin’s Fantaisie impromptu I’d ever heard, and listened in astonishment when the host told us that the performer was an eleven year old girl from Montreal. Eleven!

These kids are phenomenal, and I love that CBC has created this new forum for young talent to be heard and appreciated. It’s an audition process, naturally. If the jury selects you to perform, you also are entered into a people’s choice type of contest. Those listening at the live concerts, and later on the radio, can vote for their favourite. The winner receives a scholarship to a music program in Banff, Alberta.

These kids out to be national treasures. I mean, just think of how much their brains must be worth already – and they can only get more valuable. Musicians tend to insure their instruments fanatically; maybe they should insure their heads, too…