Yellow

How does what you do affect who you are, your identity? And what's the difference between what you are and who you are? Is there one?

I intended to write this post about how I'm not a classical musician. I mean, yes, I play the oboe and I have been classically trained, but I am just really not a classical musician. You know how I know this? I hate to practice. Hate it. I have enjoyed it a few times this past week, and that's a miracle in and of itself, but really, last night and tonight, and most times when I practice, an anger and frustration wells up within me that is almost demonic. It's terrifying. I actually don't like classical music that much. Not so much as I like Music, anyway. I like classical music because it's music, not because it's classical. And I just plain ol' like music. Does that mean that I'm a musician, then? Not really, because I do like to create music, but I'd be just as happy sitting around listening to music all the time and reading a book or writing or what have you.

So what does that make me? Or who does that make me? And what in the world am I supposed to do with all of this?

I'm having a bit of trouble in my personal life right now, even though I've been remarkably motivated as of late, there are some consequences of previous laziness that I'm having to deal with. It came to a small sort of head on Saturday morning when I just wanted to run away until everything sorted itself out. Then over the Starbucks muzak, I heard a great cover of Coldplay's "Yellow." And it calmed me right down. I think the cover was by Jem, maybe?

And I was reminded of it again tonight when I got home from that frustrating practice session, I paused for a moment in my car and looked up at the stars that I could see. So two things I know:

1. I'm not a classical musician.

2. I love stars; they are my special calming agents.

Yellow

Coldplay/Jem

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along

I wrote a song for you

And everything you do

Yeah, it was called yellow

So then I took my turn

Oh what a thing to've done

And it was all yellow

Your skin

Oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful

You know, you know I love you

You know I love you so

I swam across

I jumped across for you

Oh what a thing to do

'Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line

I drew a line for you

Oh what a thing to do

And it was all yellow

Your skin,

Oh yeah, your skin and bones

Turn into something beautiful

You know, for you I'd bleed myself dry

For you I'd bleed myself dry

It's true

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine ...

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And all the things that you do

Routine

Just a couple thoughts.

1. Am I trying to be God's "teacher's pet"? Is that how my mind views justification by works so that it seems less wrong and more acceptable and accessible? Just wondering. I listened to a sermon from my church in Boston and the pastor talked about being teacher's pet and something about that phrase struck me and stuck with me. And that question came to my mind. Am I trying to be God's "teacher's pet"?

2. I almost started reading an article about privacy steps on Facebook. It was something about Google and Facebook and the information Google is logging about your Facebook, blahdy blah. Like I said, I almost started reading it. I read a little abstract and got really sucked into that and just as I was about to click the link to the full article, I stopped. I thought "do I really care that much?" And yes, I agree that internet safety and discretion is incredibly important. But I think I started to click the article because I somehow thought it was a very important matter of great delicacy and urgency, because the abstract was written that way ... like those teasers on evening news: "The most common cause of death ... and it's in your refrigerator!" You know? And then you wait and wait and wait to find out in what form death is lurking in your refrigerator so you can show it to the door, only to learn it's something about mold ... I know Facebook is public. It's on the internet. I know this blog is public. It's on the internet. I'm just saying, if you don't want the whole world to know about something about you ... don't put it on the internet. I have nothing to hide on my Facebook page. At least, I don't think I do. So go ahead Google, file away. I'd be honored if you thought my information was important enough to be logged and stored, but I don't necessarily think it is.

Routine

Arthur Guiterman

No matter what we are and who,

Some duties everyone must do:

A Poet puts aside his wreath

To wash his face and brush his teeth

And even Earls

Must comb their curls,

And even Kings

Have underthings.

Morning Person

I bought a book of poetry recently, inspired by a poem my pastor read during church a couple weeks back. I always intend to read poetry and memorize it and become one of those deeply artistic people. But honestly, poetry rarely speaks to me when I seek it like that. Normally the surface level poems appeal to me most, but that's fine. So I've been going through this book of poetry and a few poems have struck me. So I'm going to share one today. Enjoy!

Morning Person

Vassar Miller

God, best at making in the morning, tossed

stars and planets, singing and dancing, rolled

Saturn's rings spinning and humming, twirled the earth

so hard it coughed and spat the moon up, brilliant

bubble floating around it for good, stretched holy

hands till birds in nervous sparks flew forth from

them and beasts--lizards, big and little, apes,

lions, elephants, dogs and cats cavorting,

tumbling over themselves, dizzy with joy when

God made us in the morning too, both man

and woman, leaving Adam no time for

sleep so nimbly was Eve bouncing out of

his side till as night came everything and

everybody, growing tired, declined, sat

down in one soft descended Hallelujah.

Winter Song

Winter is my favorite season. I wrote that in my novel from November, but I think I really do believe it. Each of the seasons have their own particular delight, but winter is my favorite, I think.

Spring has the most hope; Summer the most joy. Fall has the most depth, but winter. Winter has the most magic.

The only thing I DON'T like about winter is being cold. BUT I do like to become warm, so I suppose I even like the cold part of winter. I think winter can experience the widest range of emotions. It's true, it can be depressing and lonely and melancholic when the sky is grey and you feel you'll never see the sun again. But then again, those mornings when you wake up and the world has been completely transformed through the night by a gentle blanket of snow ... glistening in sunlight ... where can you find a more profound joy? I mean seriously. Winter is the only season where the world can be completely transformed over night. You can go to bed in one world ... gray and bitter. And while you sleep, Jack Frost comes for a visit and when you wake up, everything is white and redeemed. Literally over night everything has changed. This doesn't happen in spring. Spring is a very slow and gradual change. There comes a time when you suddenly realize that the whole of the world has awakened, but it's been a slow awakening, so slow you don't notice it until it's finished, or nearly so.

I also love winter clothes. I love scarves and sweaters; jeans and corduroys. All my favorite clothing is winter clothing. And then the fires! And hot chocolate! The act of warming up when it is so very cold outside. A good fire sparks good conversation. Haha, I didn't really mean that pun. And what about that feeling inside when you wrap your hands around a warm mug of tea or hot chocolate? I have learned to like tea, but I don't know if it's for the tea so much as the warming of it and I can't quite bring myself to drink straight hot water, yet ... nor do I care to try. Tea is close enough for me. And blankets! I almost forgot blankets! I love blankets. I love to wrap myself up in them. I love to feel their weight on me. So cozy and snuggly.

It's true, winter has harshest of winds and you can get to a point of being so cold you don't think you'll ever be warm again. And yet, you always do warm up again ... unless it's the nineteenth-century and you succumbed to scarlet fever or something dramatic like that. But even that bitter cold wind that can whip around the corners and take your breath away, also has a voice ... an identity, malicious or just mischievous, who's to say?

So here's a song for winter, by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. So good.

It also makes me think of two very dear friends: Anna and Jess. Who are so close to my heart and to each other's. Their friendship has encouraged me in so many ways so many times, and not only my friendship with each of them, but their friendship with each other. They are so beautiful. Even more beautiful than the winter.

Winter Song

sara bareilles & ingrid michaelson

this is my winter song to you

the storm is coming soon

it rolls in from the sea

my voice a beacon in the night

my words will be a light

to carry you to me

is love alive?

is love alive?

is love

they say that things just cannot grow

beneath the winter snow

or so i have been told

they say we're buried far

just like a distant star

i simply cannot hold

is love alive?

is love alive?

is love alive?

this is my winter song

december never seemed so wrong

'cause you're not where you belong

inside my arms

i still believe in summer days

the seasons always change

and life will find a way

i'll be your harvester of light

and send it out tonight

so we can start again

is love alive?

is love alive?

is love

this is my winter song

december never seemed so wrong

'cause you're not where you belong

inside my arms

this is my winter song to you

the storm is coming soon

it rolls in from the sea

my love a beacon in the night

my words will be a light

to carry you to me

is love alive?

Maybe Tonight

I might have a problem. I'm afraid I try to make people what I want them to be, instead of letting them be who they are or who they want to be. I was just looking through some pictures of friends on Facebook (of course) and it made me think that maybe they're afraid to be who they really are around me. And maybe I don't let them be who they are, because I want them to be something else. That's not very nice of me, now, is it? I don't do it on purpose. Maybe it comes out of pride. Because I value my image of them more than themselves. I hope I can pay more attention to this in my interactions with people. And hopefully that attention will cause whatever I'm doing to make them feel that way decrease. I judge too much, maybe. Yes, yes I do.

On a happier, but stranger, note. It's been feeling a lot more like Christmas to me lately. More so than it did leading up to Christmas. Way more so than it did on Christmas since we were in China, and Christmas there ... maybe they celebrate it, but it seemed like they really just decorated for it and then skipped over the celebration part. Then again, the orchestra spent all Christmas day traveling and playing a concert. We did have a party though. Probably the first Christmas I ever 1. peed in a hole (shortly after midnight, as part of a 6+-hour bus ride to Beijing) and 2. experienced salsa dancing. I wish I could say I actually salsa danced, but I didn't. Just wanted the rest of the orchestra. But still. First Christmas party I've ever been to where there was salsa dancing. Thanks Spain!

So I've been listening to Relevant Magazine's "The Drop" this evening. It's this great streaming service from their website. They choose an album every few weeks and stream the entire thing on their website for free. It's pretty great. Since I've been feeling pretty Christmas-y lately, I thought it apropos that one of the artists I found on this said website was Carl-Eric Tangen, whose album is reflecting on Advent and Christmas. So tonight's lyrics are from one of his songs. The picture is from Graz one night that Christian and I went walking. It was a delightful evening, if difficult.

Schlossberg in Graz on a winter night.

Maybe Tonight

Fair thee well
This cold, cold heart is down by one
Seafaring man
Such as my father said that you would come
Maybe tonight, maybe tonight

Angelic flight
Are you hovering o'er me tonight?
Cause I see the fog
Caused by my breath in the beam of a broken light
Sometime maybe tonight
Sometime maybe tonight

See the star
Shining brighter than anything before
Men from afar
And from the hills come running to sing along
Sometime maybe tonight
Sometime maybe tonight

You are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are the thing that reminds that I'm alive

And you are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are the thing that reminds me I'm alive
And you are the road that I travel down at night
Still you are my breath in the beam of a broken light
You are the thing that reminds me I'm alive
Maybe tonight, maybe tonight

Only at Christmas Time

I just want to share a quick story from my time in Graz. This is my favorite moment of the trip, I think.

I had mentioned in a previous post that Christian, Julie, Michael and I had returned from a Christmas movie marathon and decided to sing Christmas carols in four-part harmony. We happened to learn "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" fairly well and that became a staple of the rest of our trip.

The day after we spent that evening singing together, we walked to Christian's church after rehearsals. Our path took us through a little park in Graz (it's actually quite large) and while walking we decided to renew our singing. So here we were, four Americans walking through a park in Graz, covered with snow, singing "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" in four-part harmony. It was so fun. But the best part was that at one point a man who was out jogging happened upon us. He then slowed down and walked along with us while we sang. He began to hum along. Then our paths split and we went right while he went left. As he began his jogging again he thanked us and told us it was beautiful.

That moment really made me smile big smiles in my heart. I hope I always remember it. That's part of the reason I just wrote it down.

Houyue has been posting some videos on Facebook from the China trip and many have been posting their pictures from the trip. It's been great seeing everything and everyone again, even if it is only in 2D pictorial representations. Now that I'm a few days removed, I remember the trip fondly. Not the bathrooms, but the trip. And although I don't particularly care to ever return to China, I still have to smile and laugh when I think about all that went on. But my heart still aches for my friends. Luckily I get to see Michael and Angie tonight in Muncie!

Today's song was one that we heard at the Christmas party with Christian's ÖSM friends. We got to the party late, but just in time to hear Karin and Phil singing Sufjan Stevens Christmas songs which they had spent an hour singing in town earlier that day. I had never heard this one before and it has since stuck with me strongly. I really am so blessed and this world really is full of the most interesting people. I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know all the ones I have had the privilege of meeting.

Time for some coffee with my friend Katie G. now!

Only at Christmas Time
Sufjan Stevens

Only to bring you peace

Only at Christmas time
Only the king of kings
Only what once was mine
It takes the end of time
It takes a long long time
Only one thought of mine
Only at Christmas time

He brings us peace
He brings us joy
He brings all thoughts to destroy
Only at Christmas time

To brings us peace
To brings us joy
To brings all thoughts to destroy
Only at Christmas time

Only at Christmas time
Only a tree to climb
Only at Christmas time
If you can read the sign
Only at Christmas time
Everything lost will find
Only at Christmas time
Only at Christmas time

I Feel It All

Here's a question, well, a series of questions, probably.

Why do we miss people?

Not like "shoot, I just missed you" but the heartwrenching unidentifiable, but unmistakable pain resulting in someone leaving your life ... sometimes even while they're still standing right next to you?

And how do we miss people?

I want to know about the psychology behind missing someone AND the biology involved. What is the cause of this. What IS that feeling of "missing"? Is it a neural synapse? Is it a thought? Is it some sort of spasm? What causes it? And why?

Also. Why do we miss some people more than others? Why can I spend 7 days nonstop with person A and then spend 7 days nonstop with person B and at the end of the 7 days, I say goodbye to person A, and we have had quite a delightful time full of good conversation and honesty, but parting is no trouble. Whereas with person B, I could have equally good conversation, or no conversation at all, or only talk about ... farting or childhood and yet when the time has come to say "goodbye," I feel like I'd rather just go to sleep forever and never wake up again. What causes that? Why do some people we form a deep attachment, even if circumstances are completely equal, and some others we have an affection for, but not attachment?

I don't normally try to find the answers to these questions or think about them too much because, like right now, I tend to really go a little insane because I think and think and think and come to no answer or conclusion whatsoever.

Anyway. Does anyone know? Does anyone else ask?

I Feel It All

Feist

I feel it all I feel it all
I feel it all I feel it all
The wings are wide the wings are wide
Wild card inside wild card inside

Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one to hold the gun

I know more than I knew before
I know more than I knew before
I didn't rest I didn't stop
Did we fight or did we talk

Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one to hold the gun

I love you more
I love you more
I don't know what I knew before
But now I know I wanna win the war

No one likes to take a test
Sometimes you know more is less
Put your weight against the door
Kick drum on the basement floor
Stranded in a fog of words
Loved him like a winter bird
On my head the water pours
Gulf stream through the open door
Fly away
Fly away to what you want to make

I feel it all, I feel it all
I feel it all I feel it all
The wings are wide, the wings are wide
Wild card inside, wild card inside

Oh I'll be the one to break my heart
I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll end it thought you started it

The truth lies
The truth lied
And lies divide
Lies divide

Alphabutt

I am finally home. In Muncie. In my bed. My real bed. Where just down the hall is my bathroom. My bathroom with a porcelain toilet, a shower curtain, a tub, soap, and no windows. I kid you not, I am so relieved to be back in the land of acceptable bathrooms. (Yup, I know that pun's there.) This is the thing I am most excited about. Yes. It's great to be back with my family, and my car and my church and my friends and my work. But mostly (and please don't be offended) it's great to be back to private all-encompassing bathrooms. The bathrooms in China. Sub-par, except on occasion. Mostly, they're squat toilets. Read: hole in the floor. They smell. They don't have toilet paper. They don't have soap. They're terribly uncomfortable. Even in the nice hotels where they do have actual porcelain commodes, the bathrooms will also have some sort of awkward window so that if the light is on in the bathroom, the person in the bedroom can see into the bathroom and if the light is on in the bedroom, the person in the bathroom can see into the bedroom. It's really weird. I thought I had more to say, but I don't. I'm just glad to be back to American bathrooms. So here are a couple of pictures. Don't worry, they're not obscene. No one's IN the bathroom.

The symbol on the door indicates whether it has a seat toilet or only a squat toilet.

Ahem.
It's not a toilet or bathroom related, but it IS the Emerald City made out of ice. And it is cool.

In honor of the subject matter of this post. An ode to childhood by Kimya Dawson.

Alphabutt
Kimya Dawson

A is for apple
B is for butt
C is for catbutt
D is for doo doo
E is for elephant doo doo
F is for fart
G is for gorilla fart
H is for huge gorilla fart
I is for eyeball
J is for jammies
K is for kid fart
L is for loud and long farts
M is for monkey butt
N is for saying nite nite to neko at nap time
O is for Oh!
P is for panda peeing and pooping in her potty while papa plays peek a boo
Q is for quebert
R is for robotic monkey who's going to take over the world
S is for stinky
T is for turd
U is for uh oh
V is for flying V
W is for wee wee
X exactomundo
Y is for yuckie and yummy and you
and Z is for farts that smell like the zoo

The Scientist

Any of you who know me probably also know that I do not do "good-byes" notoriously well. Well, I haven't even said goodbye in Austria, yet (I have about three hours to go) and I am already not doing well. Blame it on lack of sleep, lack of nutrition, complete emotional exhaustion or just a really tender heart. Whatever it may be, I have already cried at least once this morning thinking about having to leave and am beginning to again, as I write this. This trip has been absolutely indescribable, really. And I am really ready to go home. I am ready for normal showers (not with windows in the bathroom or showers in the kitchen), I am ready for my bed (not plywood or a couch), I am ready to return to Starbucks and my regulars (not sleeping any time I have no rehearsal or concert to play), I am ready to drive my car (not ride 4-8 hours in a bus, plane or train), I am ready to go to small group and ready to see my parents and ready to go back to church (not just listen to their sermons while sitting next to teenagers making out on the plane).
But I am not ready to leave. I am not ready to leave quaint little Europe, it's architecture, it's lighting and it's history. I am not ready to leave new friends with potential depth of friendship, or at least really great music making. I am not ready to leave really high quality food. I am not ready to leave life on my own. Most of all, I am not ready to leave my good friend Christian. He has been a constant encouragement to me since I met him 5 years ago in England. We have had some of the most amazing conversations full of honesty and depth and vulnerability and truth. Which we tend to follow with a ridiculous question about the merits of farting. Truly.
It's time for me to begin transitioning back into "the real world," but it's times like this that truly make me long for Heaven, because I do not like to be parted from my friends for long, especially not really good, true friends. The kind who stick closer than a brother.
I would like to encourage you, today, or sometime, to call up a friend, or write them a letter (I really like letter writing ... they can also then keep it to refer back to later) and remind them that you love them and what impact they have made on your life. We all need to be reminded every now and again.

But I must say, after re-reading this, it sounds like he died. But he hasn't. So I do have the hope of hanging out with him again relatively soon, like, this summer when he comes back to the States for his sister's wedding or when I hopefully go to Finland again for Halo. *phew* Smile's back on my face.

I don't know what song can sum up my feelings best, but I'll go with Natasha Bedingfield's rendition of "The Scientist." Also here's a photo of Christian and Michael taken by Christian's neighbor from a pre-Christmas party in Austria.


The Scientist
(original by Coldplay; cover by Natasha Bedingfield)

Come up to meet you
Tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets
Ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads only science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start

(Take me back to the start)

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
Oh, oh tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Oh running in circles
Chasing our tails
Oh coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
I'm going back to the start

(I'm going back to you, yeah
Oh, oh yeah
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back to you
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back to the place where I first loved you ...)

Better

Just made it back to civilization, I mean. Graz. Everyone is fine. All luggage is accounted for. And now it's time for bed. But we did have a lovely walk to Christian's apartment. It was long because we were tired, but it was beautiful because it's snowing again. Not like angry China snow that eats away at your bones down to the marrow ... but gentle Graz snow, welcoming us back and making things look new and clean. Thanks, Graz. I like you too. Another update will come tomorrow since I am allowed to update a blog in this country. No bitterness, though. Yes!

Song: Better
Artist: Regina Spektor.

I keep singing it when I wake up from any number of naps I've taken in the last few days of travel by bus and plane.

Hey everyone! I'm sorry for taking so long to update, it turns out that my blog is blocked in China. I don't think it's anything personal against me, just all blogging is blocked in China. Wow! Right? So, many thanks to Sarah T. for putting this blog up for me. Bassoonists are the best kinds of friends! It makes me feel a little bit like Paul, actually, you know? When he thanks whoever for notating his letters to the churches, etc. It's great!

Anyway. This trip. Wow. I don't even really know how to describe it. At this point we're over halfway through. It's New Year's Eve and I have to get ready to play a concert tonight. It has not been the most musically edifying trip, except that I'm playing principal and everyone generally seems to like my solos, at least my friends (new and old) and the conductor do. I haven't heard so much from the people who most likely hate me for other reasons. So that's been good. And it's definitely growing me in stability, consistency and strength as a player. I've been pushing the limit on my embouchure endurance, but I think I've passed the really difficult stages now and can make it through a whole concert relatively in shape. It's a great excuse to not practice during the day ... hehe.

The trip hasn't done much for my relationship with China. I still don't care for it much and I'd probably be fine if I never came back here. It's dirty. My hands turn black just from being outside. Either because of soot and smog or frostbite. Currently we're in northern China and it's at least 27 degrees below 0. Aack! I have never been this cold in my life, but actually, I seem to have prepared pretty well for it and between my coat, my long johns and my hat and gloves I'm doing pretty well. Then again, I wasn't on a bus for two to three hours without heat like some of my colleagues were.

Personally, this trip has been very ... I don't even know how to describe it. There have been some really difficult moments for me individually, dealing with loneliness (which is normally a result of exhaustion), but from that standpoint, the Lord has been very good to me in building endurance of body and spirit. There are four Americans on this trip and we are also the only four Christians on this trip. This is no coincidence, I think. And it's been so good that all four of us are on this trip. Julie, my roommate, is spectacular. She's one of the most good-hearted, gentle people I've ever met. Michael is great to have to lighten tension, to make you laugh and to just be a general encouragement. He's also good friends now with some of the most difficult people on the trip, so that's definitely valuable. Christian is now one of my oldest friend and so good. He's challenged me a lot in my character and faith, and we generally just work well together building each other up and sharpening each other. This trip has been in general, though, a real test of integrity and character. We've had some very difficult situations arise which have caused serious tension within the orchestra. Like I just referenced, some of them had to ride a bus for a few hours without heat in very sub zero temperatures. Nothing was done about it. This is absolutely unacceptable and our conductor graciously gave them the option of not playing the concert that night, which they chose. I completely stand by them from that respect, but the challenge came in whether or not we could still do a good concert without their presence AND that it would be almost blessing the neglect of the organization by playing a concert in spite of the conditions. Those of us who could play opted to play a shortened, chamber orchestra version of our normal program. It was not our worst concert, which was good. As an idealist, general pacifist, Christian and American, I believe that you play no matter what the circumstances. This entire trip has been full of situations like that and unfortunately the same people who were stuck in the cold bus are also the ones who have been very vocal about the terror that has been this trip.

Today we are in Daqing which is near Russia and Siberia. Tomorrow we go to Harbin and have our first full day off since the beginning of the trip. We're going to see the ice castle/ice festival. When I can, I'll have Sarah post some pictures from that. For now I have just a couple pictures from our morning on the Great Wall, if Sarah can figure out how to put them on. That was VERY cool. It seems that "small town" China (which is still bigger than Chicago) appeals to me more, but still, I am not what you would call "enamored" with the country.

No song lyrics today. I guess Ingrid Michaleson's "Are we There Yet?" is becoming even more poignant now, though. So enjoy the pictures.