I have finally finished all of my difficult December obligations and I am in the mood to party! So hit play and join me in some silly dancing!
Friday, December 13, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
The Awkwardest Sunday
I have undergone some physical changes as of late. As a result, my conducting outfits (which this morning numbered one pantsuit and one dress) don't fit me right now, so I needed a new conducting outfit. Hooray, I now have three conducting outfits. But in the search for the third, I demonstrated once again why I am the awkwardest person alive.
I. Store Hours
In my area of my hometown, there are lots of little boutiques that sell nice clothing suitable for conducting. They're tucked away in little shopping centers, dotted along the town square or set up in lovely repurposed historical homes.
Which means they don't have those customizable marquees that display such information to drivers as store hours or neon "Open" signs.
It also means that, in pursuit of a classy ambience, they often have soft lighting that, when looking in the windows from outside, is difficult to distinguish from no lighting at all.
They do have hours posted, however! On a nice cream-colored piece of printer paper taped to the front door with "Monday-Saturday, 10 AM - 5 PM" in Times New Roman, 12pt.
The worst was walking around the square. There were several people sitting outside a pizza restaurant just down the way from a line of clothing stores. I walked down the sidewalk, squinting into the windows, trying to see whether they were open or not. A couple had lights on inside, but no nice piece of printer paper on the door, meaning I had to suffer the awkwardness of trying to open the door and finding it locked in front of all those pizza place customers.
What they were actually thinking: "This Vine I made is funny, but I'm not sure if it's Jennette McCurdy funny."
What I envisioned them thinking: "Wow, that girl is a total loser. Let's laugh at her when she's out of earshot."
II. Which way from my car?
The square has a little park in the center with a series of sidewalks that cross the park like a big X, with a statue at the intersection. I parked in a spot along the side of this square, about halfway between two of the corners. The place I wanted to go was right directly across the park square. There are no "Keep Off The Grass" signs. But I couldn't bring myself to cross the park in a straight line - I walked to the corner, got to the statue, walked to the other corner...pretty much made the most ridiculous zigzag pattern on the planet Earth. My brain envisioned the pizza customers calling the cops to report a stoned woman in the square.
III. Waiting to get at a rack that someone else is already at.
"COULD YOU BE ANY SLOWER. Fine detail analysis is what the fitting room is for."*
IV. Having someone else start picking through the same small rack or same section of a rack that you are browsing.
"I was here first. Didn't your mama teach you patience? Or personal space?"*
V. Fitting rooms with curtains instead of doors.
The only thing keeping an undraped me from somebody's eyes (and/or somebody's Instagram) is everyone else's understanding of closed curtains as a sign that the room is occupied. Understanding which, I might add, is not aided by a cream-colored printed up sign.
VI. Not destroying clothes in the process of trying them on.
It's always the same story when I try on dresses. Over the head or over the hips?
Over the head - Potentially smearing makeup and/or deodorant on the garment which the nice employees then have to clean or conceal, or turning my hair into a beastly mane that will make it look like I used the dressing room as a choreography rehearsal site.
Over the hips - Clenching your thighs and hiney, holding your breath and thinking skinny thoughts and STILL you hear the bone-chilling, ego-destroying pop of a stitch snapping as you pull the dress up over your hips. "Oh no, I broke it. They're going to force me to pay for it because I broke it." But then, once you've taken the garment back off and examined it, you can't find a single loose stitch. WHAT WAS THAT POP?
VII. The line.
The line is where another behavior judgment paradox takes place, just like the rack waiting versus rack possessing scenario I described earlier. If you're in an establishment that puts all customers in one line, rather than letting them pick a checkout line on their own, everything you believe about personal space and karma comes to bear on this waiting time. Specifically, if I stand rather close to the person ahead of me, it will make the Gods of Checkout see my urgency and make the line go faster. But if the person behind me stands too close to me, that person is a jerk and makes me uncomfortable.
VIII. The checkout.
I had some cash on me, so I wanted to pay partially in cash and partially with my credit card. So I handed the lady my cash and watched the little credit/debit/PIN thingy with the screen to see my updated total.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, the cashier said, "It's not doing anything - did you swipe it?"
I replied, "No, I was waiting for it to update my total."
She gave me the strangest look and said, "It doesn't do that."
So I swiped my card, at which point it finally did tell me my updated total...the updated total I had, at that point, just paid.
Folks, this is one point on which I know I'm not crazy. I used to work a retail job and for the first year I worked there, we didn't even have a point-of-sale system. We had an old register on which we could only enter "[Department] Item." The credit/debit machine was a relic of the 80s that wasn't at all connected to the register - we had to enter the total manually. We'd have to run reports at the end of the day and it would zip off miles of register tape telling us how many dollars' worth of various departmental merch we had sold that day.
But you know what that antique setup could do? RECEIVE ONE METHOD OF PAYMENT AND THEN UPDATE THE TOTAL BEFORE TAKING THE SECOND METHOD. And when we finally did get a point-of-sale system that could scan barcodes, create custom reports based on specific items, take credit/debit cards, place orders for us, and even enable us to send messages to each other?
Yep, it updated the total too.
Of course, it's not Checkout Lady's fault that that store's system doesn't do that, but it just bugged me that she thought it was strange of me to expect it. Just wanted to know how much I was putting on my card before I put it on my card.
And before you ask - no I did not want to do the math in my head because I did not wish to be there past store closing.
.JPG)
But cuuuute, right? All's well that ends well!
*Thought it. Didn't say it.
I. Store Hours
In my area of my hometown, there are lots of little boutiques that sell nice clothing suitable for conducting. They're tucked away in little shopping centers, dotted along the town square or set up in lovely repurposed historical homes.
Which means they don't have those customizable marquees that display such information to drivers as store hours or neon "Open" signs.
It also means that, in pursuit of a classy ambience, they often have soft lighting that, when looking in the windows from outside, is difficult to distinguish from no lighting at all.
They do have hours posted, however! On a nice cream-colored piece of printer paper taped to the front door with "Monday-Saturday, 10 AM - 5 PM" in Times New Roman, 12pt.
The worst was walking around the square. There were several people sitting outside a pizza restaurant just down the way from a line of clothing stores. I walked down the sidewalk, squinting into the windows, trying to see whether they were open or not. A couple had lights on inside, but no nice piece of printer paper on the door, meaning I had to suffer the awkwardness of trying to open the door and finding it locked in front of all those pizza place customers.
What they were actually thinking: "This Vine I made is funny, but I'm not sure if it's Jennette McCurdy funny."
What I envisioned them thinking: "Wow, that girl is a total loser. Let's laugh at her when she's out of earshot."
II. Which way from my car?
The square has a little park in the center with a series of sidewalks that cross the park like a big X, with a statue at the intersection. I parked in a spot along the side of this square, about halfway between two of the corners. The place I wanted to go was right directly across the park square. There are no "Keep Off The Grass" signs. But I couldn't bring myself to cross the park in a straight line - I walked to the corner, got to the statue, walked to the other corner...pretty much made the most ridiculous zigzag pattern on the planet Earth. My brain envisioned the pizza customers calling the cops to report a stoned woman in the square.
III. Waiting to get at a rack that someone else is already at.
"COULD YOU BE ANY SLOWER. Fine detail analysis is what the fitting room is for."*
IV. Having someone else start picking through the same small rack or same section of a rack that you are browsing.
"I was here first. Didn't your mama teach you patience? Or personal space?"*
V. Fitting rooms with curtains instead of doors.
The only thing keeping an undraped me from somebody's eyes (and/or somebody's Instagram) is everyone else's understanding of closed curtains as a sign that the room is occupied. Understanding which, I might add, is not aided by a cream-colored printed up sign.
VI. Not destroying clothes in the process of trying them on.
It's always the same story when I try on dresses. Over the head or over the hips?
Over the head - Potentially smearing makeup and/or deodorant on the garment which the nice employees then have to clean or conceal, or turning my hair into a beastly mane that will make it look like I used the dressing room as a choreography rehearsal site.
Over the hips - Clenching your thighs and hiney, holding your breath and thinking skinny thoughts and STILL you hear the bone-chilling, ego-destroying pop of a stitch snapping as you pull the dress up over your hips. "Oh no, I broke it. They're going to force me to pay for it because I broke it." But then, once you've taken the garment back off and examined it, you can't find a single loose stitch. WHAT WAS THAT POP?
VII. The line.
The line is where another behavior judgment paradox takes place, just like the rack waiting versus rack possessing scenario I described earlier. If you're in an establishment that puts all customers in one line, rather than letting them pick a checkout line on their own, everything you believe about personal space and karma comes to bear on this waiting time. Specifically, if I stand rather close to the person ahead of me, it will make the Gods of Checkout see my urgency and make the line go faster. But if the person behind me stands too close to me, that person is a jerk and makes me uncomfortable.
VIII. The checkout.
I had some cash on me, so I wanted to pay partially in cash and partially with my credit card. So I handed the lady my cash and watched the little credit/debit/PIN thingy with the screen to see my updated total.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, the cashier said, "It's not doing anything - did you swipe it?"
I replied, "No, I was waiting for it to update my total."
She gave me the strangest look and said, "It doesn't do that."
So I swiped my card, at which point it finally did tell me my updated total...the updated total I had, at that point, just paid.
Folks, this is one point on which I know I'm not crazy. I used to work a retail job and for the first year I worked there, we didn't even have a point-of-sale system. We had an old register on which we could only enter "[Department] Item." The credit/debit machine was a relic of the 80s that wasn't at all connected to the register - we had to enter the total manually. We'd have to run reports at the end of the day and it would zip off miles of register tape telling us how many dollars' worth of various departmental merch we had sold that day.
But you know what that antique setup could do? RECEIVE ONE METHOD OF PAYMENT AND THEN UPDATE THE TOTAL BEFORE TAKING THE SECOND METHOD. And when we finally did get a point-of-sale system that could scan barcodes, create custom reports based on specific items, take credit/debit cards, place orders for us, and even enable us to send messages to each other?
Yep, it updated the total too.
Of course, it's not Checkout Lady's fault that that store's system doesn't do that, but it just bugged me that she thought it was strange of me to expect it. Just wanted to know how much I was putting on my card before I put it on my card.
And before you ask - no I did not want to do the math in my head because I did not wish to be there past store closing.
**************************************************
I'll cap off my super awkward mission with a photo of the acquisition made more awkward by the fact that I'm standing on a toilet (we have no full-length mirrors in my house).JPG)
*Thought it. Didn't say it.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
My Thoughts on Miley: LET ME SHOW YOU THEM
Yes, I realize this topic has been positively driven into the ground, but since I finally finished the assignment I was working on tonight and am still very much awake from the coffee, I thought I'd throw in some of the thoughts that have been rattling around in my head regarding Miley's performance at the VMAs.
1. I mentioned this in a Facebook status, but I would like to go into greater detail here: the straight-up quality of Miley's performance was not so great. I am not interested in having a debate about the aesthetics or morality of pop music and the dance styles that often accompany it because nobody moves or wins in that debate - I will mention, however, that Gaga, Timberlake and everyone else up there employ suggestive lyrics and moves as well and ain't nobody weeping over their blogs about those folks. Miley is capable of great performances and this one could have been just as good. Now, it's possible that she obstinately refused to do anything but her mix of Gene Simmons and Ke$ha-style choreography up there, but it's also possible that at every step of the way, her management, assistant, stylist, choreographer or any number of people who have access to her and know what looks good and what doesn't straight up didn't do their job because everybody loves a train wreck. Shoot, so much about that performance could have been improved if they had made her use a corded mic at a stand. She could still have wiggled around some, she could have dressed however she wanted, but she wouldn't have looked so insane. It's entirely possible that everyone around her was saying, "Yeah, everyone will be talking about your performance!" with entirely different reasons in mind than the ones she had.
2. Much armchair psychology has taken place about whether Miley is desperate for attention, crying for help, a lost widdle helpless baby boo hoo. I'm not saying that these people are wrong - time may prove them to be correct. However, nobody really knows what's inside Miley's head or heart besides Miley herself; I'll refer you to Ke$ha, who rap-yodels* the same song over and over to different beats and yet made a 1500 on her SAT. The product doesn't necessarily equal the person. I'm pretty sure we have all done things, perhaps some of us publicly, that if shown to strangers out of context would make all of us look like we were "crying for help" and yet we turned out to just be having a short-term lark or moment of poor judgment, subsequently collected ourselves, and moved on.
3. There has also been much discussion about the influence of Miley on young women, particularly those who "grew up with her", so to speak. This makes me the most teeth-grindingly angry because, however well-intended, all of the opinions to this end that I've read and heard seem to assume that teenagers are masters of mimicry who thoughtlessly emulate every action performed by those they admire. Young girls will see Miley partying and carousing with boys and think that those things are totally ok!
I don't have my own kids, so obviously it is easier for me to be cavalier about these things. But I do remember what it was like to be a teenager, and furthermore I remember the actions of many of my friends as teenagers. Even prior to teenagerhood, we enjoyed media which glorified sex, violence, drug and alcohol abuse and other such mainstays of the terrible, horrible, no-good very bad culture or however that book title goes. We would even watch music videos and performances which the adults in our vicinity raised their eyebrows over and thought it was cool. But we did possess brains, and we did, even at that tender age, have the ability to differentiate between adults whose job it was to entertain and, to an extent, shock, and kids whose job it was to learn about the world before being thrown into it. We could grasp the machine of controversy and buzz, of gossip and publicity and, thanks to parents, educators and other role models who taught us to look critically and intelligently at the products of culture rather than to run from them, the nature of actions and consequences. I don't make such a statement in order to be judgmental; every family has its own unique needs and preferences and I respect that. The wider point of this sub-point is that by and large, kids are sharper than we often make them out to be.
I don't have a nice neat conclusion. These were just the thoughts I had.
1. I mentioned this in a Facebook status, but I would like to go into greater detail here: the straight-up quality of Miley's performance was not so great. I am not interested in having a debate about the aesthetics or morality of pop music and the dance styles that often accompany it because nobody moves or wins in that debate - I will mention, however, that Gaga, Timberlake and everyone else up there employ suggestive lyrics and moves as well and ain't nobody weeping over their blogs about those folks. Miley is capable of great performances and this one could have been just as good. Now, it's possible that she obstinately refused to do anything but her mix of Gene Simmons and Ke$ha-style choreography up there, but it's also possible that at every step of the way, her management, assistant, stylist, choreographer or any number of people who have access to her and know what looks good and what doesn't straight up didn't do their job because everybody loves a train wreck. Shoot, so much about that performance could have been improved if they had made her use a corded mic at a stand. She could still have wiggled around some, she could have dressed however she wanted, but she wouldn't have looked so insane. It's entirely possible that everyone around her was saying, "Yeah, everyone will be talking about your performance!" with entirely different reasons in mind than the ones she had.
2. Much armchair psychology has taken place about whether Miley is desperate for attention, crying for help, a lost widdle helpless baby boo hoo. I'm not saying that these people are wrong - time may prove them to be correct. However, nobody really knows what's inside Miley's head or heart besides Miley herself; I'll refer you to Ke$ha, who rap-yodels* the same song over and over to different beats and yet made a 1500 on her SAT. The product doesn't necessarily equal the person. I'm pretty sure we have all done things, perhaps some of us publicly, that if shown to strangers out of context would make all of us look like we were "crying for help" and yet we turned out to just be having a short-term lark or moment of poor judgment, subsequently collected ourselves, and moved on.
3. There has also been much discussion about the influence of Miley on young women, particularly those who "grew up with her", so to speak. This makes me the most teeth-grindingly angry because, however well-intended, all of the opinions to this end that I've read and heard seem to assume that teenagers are masters of mimicry who thoughtlessly emulate every action performed by those they admire. Young girls will see Miley partying and carousing with boys and think that those things are totally ok!
I don't have my own kids, so obviously it is easier for me to be cavalier about these things. But I do remember what it was like to be a teenager, and furthermore I remember the actions of many of my friends as teenagers. Even prior to teenagerhood, we enjoyed media which glorified sex, violence, drug and alcohol abuse and other such mainstays of the terrible, horrible, no-good very bad culture or however that book title goes. We would even watch music videos and performances which the adults in our vicinity raised their eyebrows over and thought it was cool. But we did possess brains, and we did, even at that tender age, have the ability to differentiate between adults whose job it was to entertain and, to an extent, shock, and kids whose job it was to learn about the world before being thrown into it. We could grasp the machine of controversy and buzz, of gossip and publicity and, thanks to parents, educators and other role models who taught us to look critically and intelligently at the products of culture rather than to run from them, the nature of actions and consequences. I don't make such a statement in order to be judgmental; every family has its own unique needs and preferences and I respect that. The wider point of this sub-point is that by and large, kids are sharper than we often make them out to be.
I don't have a nice neat conclusion. These were just the thoughts I had.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
The Continuing Adventures of Dr. Esby
Dr. Esby...prounounced "ess bee"...as in SB...as in Straight Baller...as in this video:
Walked around the block to get next door in terms of selecting an alter ego nickname, but it works all the same.
So I am sitting on campus in the middle of Doctor School, Week 2. I discovered last year that if I wait to make my commute much later than, say, a couple of hours prior to class start time, the Gods of Inconvenience will rain down fender-benders, traffic, detours, blockages, or last-minute venue changes and cause me to be late, so I err on the side of caution and show up to campus hours ahead of time and spend the time reading up on my coursework, finishing assignments, and of course, blogging/Facebooking.
I am less worried about my classes than I was last week, although I still need a textbook for one (thanks, USPS, for the timely notification about how a package is waiting for me at your office OH WAIT JUST KIDDING). One is going to be a challenge because, as I discovered after last week's session, it's a pretty intense course aimed at SpEd teachers. Still relevant to me because, like most music educators, I get all manner of students, but there's definitely some terminology and practices I'll have to Google as I slog through this course.
Over in greener pastures (see what I did there?), things are looking up. As with last year, I'm approaching this year with the goal of continuing ascension, but unlike last year, I now have more to draw upon in terms of experience and training. And of course, it's pretty awesome to have some of the same people for the third year in a row - every school year feels more and more like coming home.
Well, it's been a nice break for my brain, but now it's time to continue feeding the Dr. Esby side of my personality. I might need to bring her back for a YouTube vid in the future...we'll see...
Walked around the block to get next door in terms of selecting an alter ego nickname, but it works all the same.
So I am sitting on campus in the middle of Doctor School, Week 2. I discovered last year that if I wait to make my commute much later than, say, a couple of hours prior to class start time, the Gods of Inconvenience will rain down fender-benders, traffic, detours, blockages, or last-minute venue changes and cause me to be late, so I err on the side of caution and show up to campus hours ahead of time and spend the time reading up on my coursework, finishing assignments, and of course, blogging/Facebooking.
I am less worried about my classes than I was last week, although I still need a textbook for one (thanks, USPS, for the timely notification about how a package is waiting for me at your office OH WAIT JUST KIDDING). One is going to be a challenge because, as I discovered after last week's session, it's a pretty intense course aimed at SpEd teachers. Still relevant to me because, like most music educators, I get all manner of students, but there's definitely some terminology and practices I'll have to Google as I slog through this course.
Over in greener pastures (see what I did there?), things are looking up. As with last year, I'm approaching this year with the goal of continuing ascension, but unlike last year, I now have more to draw upon in terms of experience and training. And of course, it's pretty awesome to have some of the same people for the third year in a row - every school year feels more and more like coming home.
Well, it's been a nice break for my brain, but now it's time to continue feeding the Dr. Esby side of my personality. I might need to bring her back for a YouTube vid in the future...we'll see...
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Doctor School, Day One
I suppose it's technically Day 4, since the semester's official start day was Monday. Whatever.
So the process of being readmitted so that I could pursue another degree from a school that I just got a degree from so they should seriously already know who I am how is this process not more streamlined @#^$%&#^<>:][~@#$ was tedious and a little nervous-making because there was a question as to whether I would make it in time to register. I did make it in time to register, but too late to get one of the online courses I wanted, so I had to quickly choose an on-campus course that met at a time I could swing. Now I'm sitting in the snack lounge of the building in which said class meets and looking over the syllabus with something less than confidence. Neither the course nor the syllabus lists prerequisites, and I see terms I recognize from past coursework, but the length of the first day power point (which the professor was kind enough to send us ahead of time) is intimidating. The syllabus makes frequent requests that we seek to learn, rather than to minimize work...apparently this professor has had issues with slackers in the past. I suppose it's a good thing I didn't opt into an Honor Chorus accompanying gig this year, because I might not have had enough time to practice for it. I'll be spending that time reading and writing. OMG THE WRITING. Both of my classes require pretty copious amounts of both reading and writing, which I realize is a ridiculous thing to complain about because that's what doctoral students do.
BUT STILL.
Really, all this bluster is just fear of the unknown. Even at 27, I am still the kid who occasionally believes that intellect is the only worthwhile thing she has to offer the world and if she doesn't have the best grades in the class/school/state/world, she is nothing. Yes, I am aware that academia is not a zero-sum game, that not being the "best" doesn't make me worthless, that grades are not the sole measure of intellect, that "Cs get degrees" and whatnot... I keep telling myself, "Wait until you've sat through a session and met the teacher before you freak out." And even if I do end up in over my head, it would probably be a good experience for me as a person, if potentially injurious to my GPA.
Given the choice, though, I would much rather leave class feeling like the material and goals are attainable rather than feeling like it's time for long-term character building. Stay tuned to see which one happens...
So the process of being readmitted so that I could pursue another degree from a school that I just got a degree from so they should seriously already know who I am how is this process not more streamlined @#^$%&#^<>:][~@#$ was tedious and a little nervous-making because there was a question as to whether I would make it in time to register. I did make it in time to register, but too late to get one of the online courses I wanted, so I had to quickly choose an on-campus course that met at a time I could swing. Now I'm sitting in the snack lounge of the building in which said class meets and looking over the syllabus with something less than confidence. Neither the course nor the syllabus lists prerequisites, and I see terms I recognize from past coursework, but the length of the first day power point (which the professor was kind enough to send us ahead of time) is intimidating. The syllabus makes frequent requests that we seek to learn, rather than to minimize work...apparently this professor has had issues with slackers in the past. I suppose it's a good thing I didn't opt into an Honor Chorus accompanying gig this year, because I might not have had enough time to practice for it. I'll be spending that time reading and writing. OMG THE WRITING. Both of my classes require pretty copious amounts of both reading and writing, which I realize is a ridiculous thing to complain about because that's what doctoral students do.
BUT STILL.
Really, all this bluster is just fear of the unknown. Even at 27, I am still the kid who occasionally believes that intellect is the only worthwhile thing she has to offer the world and if she doesn't have the best grades in the class/school/state/world, she is nothing. Yes, I am aware that academia is not a zero-sum game, that not being the "best" doesn't make me worthless, that grades are not the sole measure of intellect, that "Cs get degrees" and whatnot... I keep telling myself, "Wait until you've sat through a session and met the teacher before you freak out." And even if I do end up in over my head, it would probably be a good experience for me as a person, if potentially injurious to my GPA.
Given the choice, though, I would much rather leave class feeling like the material and goals are attainable rather than feeling like it's time for long-term character building. Stay tuned to see which one happens...
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Bernard and Bianca
Couldn't sleep this evening, so I ran across an old classic on Netflix: The Rescuers. And naturally, I couldn't leave it at that - had to take in The Rescuers Down Under as well. And being me, I had to look them both up on the interwebz and learn things about them and get all fired up to write another movie post! Grain of salt, as always, seeing as how we all know how reliable internet research can be...
What struck me about some of the information available on both films was the reception in their initial releases. The Rescuers, released in 1977, was hailed as an ideal film for children and even garnered an Academy Award nomination for Best Song ("Someone's Waiting For You.") It was considered a sign that the House of Mouse wasn't out of the game, even though the previous few films had underperformed compared to their initial Golden Age. Kinda hard to compete with a run that included the first few feature-length animated films ever. It set a box office record that was later broken by An American Tail...and we all know where things went from there. The Rescuers Down Under, released in 1990, was the first sequel to a Disney animated film. Wikipedia claims that it is also the first Disney animated film not based on an existing story, but I call foul on that one - The Rescuers is an adaptation of a book series, and since the sequel uses some of the same characters and the same premise outline that the prequel did, I'm calling Down Under a second adaptation rather than an original story. Unlike The Rescuers, it was less successful in its initial run and critics were split in their assessments. Some praised the story as engaging for children and relished the appearance, particularly the flight scenes, while others called the plot disjointed and its villain as too malicious.
This information struck me because much of it is pretty different from my own opinions about the two films...
Some concessions first: 13 years is a long time. Animation and recording made some pretty major strides, particularly during those specific 13 years between the two films in terms of computer-aided animation, so in terms of appearance and resources, time is on Down Under's side. Time is also on my side as far as being able to look at both films in the historical context of the overall Disney canon, whereas contemporary critics of Down Under could only do that for its prequel; seeing as how super game-changer The Little Mermaid had come out the previous year, it's not surprising that Down Under seemed less impressive. In terms of plot, looking strictly at the two films side-by-side, one cannot deny the fact that Down Under employs many more subplots and bounces between them much more frequently than The Rescuers, lending some credibility to the disjointed-plot criticism.
But for real, y'all. The Rescuers is straight-up depressing, happy ending notwithstanding. The fact that much of the action takes place in a swamp at night combined with the pop-style, melancholy 70s score makes the movie so dark and damp as to require mold testing. "Someone's Waiting For You" is a lovely song, sure enough, but it loses something when it has the same wistful ballad feel as every. other. song. in. the. film. It's one of three songs (four if you count "Rescue Aid Society") and is the last of those songs to appear in the film. By the time "My Journey," which plays over the opening credits (which are complete, by which I mean loooooooooong) and "Tomorrow Is Another Day," which plays over the travel montage, have finished their crooning, we're so beaten down by the sadness of the film's plot and atmosphere that by the time "Someone's Waiting For You" shows up, we're like, "ANOTHER WHINY SONG. And this one with images of an orphan crying," and search our medicine cabinet for happy pills. Likely owing to Bob Newhart's leading role, the dialogue is pretty dry and much of the humor comes from sight gags. Don't get me wrong: there are lots of great things about this movie. Bernard and Bianca are adorable characters, the swamp critters who assist them are fun to watch, Penny's pluck and active role in her own "rescuing" represent a nice departure from the damsel-in-distress trope and the settings, musty as they are, are an interesting change from the more conventional (prettier) film locales of other Disney films. While the music suffers from a dismal lack of variety, it still fits with the vibe going on in Disney animation at the time, which included the folding of contemporary and vernacular styles into film scoring; witness other 70s home-run Disney movie songs as "Cruella DeVil" and "Ev'rybody Wants To Be A Cat." I realize that Madame Medusa already bears plenty of resemblance to Cruella, but would it have killed them to maybe throw in an uptempo jazz theme for her, even an instrumental one to act as a leitmotif? Le sigh.
Down Under uses only score and eschews vocal and vernacular musical performances altogether. In so doing, it doesn't bind itself to a specific style. This is not to say that adhering to a style is a bad thing - it worked great for Robin Hood, Aristocats, Oliver and Company...just not so well for The Rescuers. Down Under, on the other hand, employs your standard-issue film score orchestra and goes from there. And of course, the improved animating capabilities combined with the prettier setting and prevailingly daytime activity lend lots of vitality to the visuals. Going straight from watching The Rescuers to watching Down Under, the scene where Cody first releases and flies with Marahute is practically magical. The dialogue uses many more one-liners and zingers than The Rescuers. The greater emphasis on comedic dialogue rather than slapstick and the tendency to jump from subplot to subplot so much can, I think, be explained by the same thing: John Candy. I was only 4 when this film came out, so I don't remember the advertising, but I would be willing to bet that Candy served as the chief star-power bait, since Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor had both passed their heights of popularity and wouldn't be perceived as surprising or as cameos when reprising their roles as Bernard and Bianca. Ergo, they needed to give Candy as much screen time as possible, hence the diversions to Wilbur's hospital stay and attempts to demonstrate game (conclusion: he has none.) And of course, funny lines are John Candy's thing, no matter which character he's playing. To keep things in balance, they had to give all the characters at least one or two wisecracks, lest Wilbur steal the show. As far as the villain goes, there's an interesting parallel at work that may or may not be intentional. McLeach is certainly cold, heartless and chillingly violent with a readiness to kill that probably exceeds even real-life poachers. Recall with me the fact that The Rescuers' box-office record was broken by Don Bluth's big break, An American Tail. And the Bluth formula employed much darker, more frightening subject matter than Disney tended to venture into because Bluth believed that kids could handle anything as long as it all came out right in the end. Again, this was probably not intentional, but I think it's interesting that for their first sequel to an animated film, Disney drew closer to the style of the company whose work dethroned the prequel.
So there you go. Some thoughts on a fine pair of films.
What struck me about some of the information available on both films was the reception in their initial releases. The Rescuers, released in 1977, was hailed as an ideal film for children and even garnered an Academy Award nomination for Best Song ("Someone's Waiting For You.") It was considered a sign that the House of Mouse wasn't out of the game, even though the previous few films had underperformed compared to their initial Golden Age. Kinda hard to compete with a run that included the first few feature-length animated films ever. It set a box office record that was later broken by An American Tail...and we all know where things went from there. The Rescuers Down Under, released in 1990, was the first sequel to a Disney animated film. Wikipedia claims that it is also the first Disney animated film not based on an existing story, but I call foul on that one - The Rescuers is an adaptation of a book series, and since the sequel uses some of the same characters and the same premise outline that the prequel did, I'm calling Down Under a second adaptation rather than an original story. Unlike The Rescuers, it was less successful in its initial run and critics were split in their assessments. Some praised the story as engaging for children and relished the appearance, particularly the flight scenes, while others called the plot disjointed and its villain as too malicious.
This information struck me because much of it is pretty different from my own opinions about the two films...
Some concessions first: 13 years is a long time. Animation and recording made some pretty major strides, particularly during those specific 13 years between the two films in terms of computer-aided animation, so in terms of appearance and resources, time is on Down Under's side. Time is also on my side as far as being able to look at both films in the historical context of the overall Disney canon, whereas contemporary critics of Down Under could only do that for its prequel; seeing as how super game-changer The Little Mermaid had come out the previous year, it's not surprising that Down Under seemed less impressive. In terms of plot, looking strictly at the two films side-by-side, one cannot deny the fact that Down Under employs many more subplots and bounces between them much more frequently than The Rescuers, lending some credibility to the disjointed-plot criticism.
But for real, y'all. The Rescuers is straight-up depressing, happy ending notwithstanding. The fact that much of the action takes place in a swamp at night combined with the pop-style, melancholy 70s score makes the movie so dark and damp as to require mold testing. "Someone's Waiting For You" is a lovely song, sure enough, but it loses something when it has the same wistful ballad feel as every. other. song. in. the. film. It's one of three songs (four if you count "Rescue Aid Society") and is the last of those songs to appear in the film. By the time "My Journey," which plays over the opening credits (which are complete, by which I mean loooooooooong) and "Tomorrow Is Another Day," which plays over the travel montage, have finished their crooning, we're so beaten down by the sadness of the film's plot and atmosphere that by the time "Someone's Waiting For You" shows up, we're like, "ANOTHER WHINY SONG. And this one with images of an orphan crying," and search our medicine cabinet for happy pills. Likely owing to Bob Newhart's leading role, the dialogue is pretty dry and much of the humor comes from sight gags. Don't get me wrong: there are lots of great things about this movie. Bernard and Bianca are adorable characters, the swamp critters who assist them are fun to watch, Penny's pluck and active role in her own "rescuing" represent a nice departure from the damsel-in-distress trope and the settings, musty as they are, are an interesting change from the more conventional (prettier) film locales of other Disney films. While the music suffers from a dismal lack of variety, it still fits with the vibe going on in Disney animation at the time, which included the folding of contemporary and vernacular styles into film scoring; witness other 70s home-run Disney movie songs as "Cruella DeVil" and "Ev'rybody Wants To Be A Cat." I realize that Madame Medusa already bears plenty of resemblance to Cruella, but would it have killed them to maybe throw in an uptempo jazz theme for her, even an instrumental one to act as a leitmotif? Le sigh.
Down Under uses only score and eschews vocal and vernacular musical performances altogether. In so doing, it doesn't bind itself to a specific style. This is not to say that adhering to a style is a bad thing - it worked great for Robin Hood, Aristocats, Oliver and Company...just not so well for The Rescuers. Down Under, on the other hand, employs your standard-issue film score orchestra and goes from there. And of course, the improved animating capabilities combined with the prettier setting and prevailingly daytime activity lend lots of vitality to the visuals. Going straight from watching The Rescuers to watching Down Under, the scene where Cody first releases and flies with Marahute is practically magical. The dialogue uses many more one-liners and zingers than The Rescuers. The greater emphasis on comedic dialogue rather than slapstick and the tendency to jump from subplot to subplot so much can, I think, be explained by the same thing: John Candy. I was only 4 when this film came out, so I don't remember the advertising, but I would be willing to bet that Candy served as the chief star-power bait, since Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor had both passed their heights of popularity and wouldn't be perceived as surprising or as cameos when reprising their roles as Bernard and Bianca. Ergo, they needed to give Candy as much screen time as possible, hence the diversions to Wilbur's hospital stay and attempts to demonstrate game (conclusion: he has none.) And of course, funny lines are John Candy's thing, no matter which character he's playing. To keep things in balance, they had to give all the characters at least one or two wisecracks, lest Wilbur steal the show. As far as the villain goes, there's an interesting parallel at work that may or may not be intentional. McLeach is certainly cold, heartless and chillingly violent with a readiness to kill that probably exceeds even real-life poachers. Recall with me the fact that The Rescuers' box-office record was broken by Don Bluth's big break, An American Tail. And the Bluth formula employed much darker, more frightening subject matter than Disney tended to venture into because Bluth believed that kids could handle anything as long as it all came out right in the end. Again, this was probably not intentional, but I think it's interesting that for their first sequel to an animated film, Disney drew closer to the style of the company whose work dethroned the prequel.
So there you go. Some thoughts on a fine pair of films.
Monday, June 17, 2013
The Path to Professional Grade
Friends, some real talk: over the course of working two years in a private school, two in a public school, attending many seminars and conferences and attending graduate school, I have had many occasions to think disparagingly of my own abilities. As far as I can tell, it's fairly common to do so; we've had several conversations in my seminar class that amount to "I don't do this enough or at all/I know I shouldn't, but.../I've let this slide because xyz..." and everyone has something to add to all those lists. And of course, some of your most effective instructors are the ones who serve it to you straight. "You must take responsibility for your product. If your choir doesn't sound right, it's because you have failed to fully impart to them what is right, musically or technically." That is one uncomfortable pill to swallow and my initial inclination is to get defensive and try to justify whatever situation I think excuses me from producing students with the most technically accurate, beautiful singing possible. In fairness to whoever reads this - I'm not saying that external circumstances have no bearing on your product. Of course they do, I just use them as excuses more than I should. And as music educators, a perfect product isn't always our goal.
But I read ultimatums like the one listed above (read it today, in fact) and I become depressed. Regardless of the circumstances, I know in my heart that I have not always done my 100% best for my choirs and I start to wonder if I'll ever reach the level of fluidity and expertise of my mentors or if I'll always be this insecure, flailing little baby bird. And it is in those moments that I have to step back, check myself and remember some things:
1. Professionals in my field vary widely. Persons cited in lectures and textbooks come in all ages, demographics, backgrounds and even in rehearsal and conducting technique. In today's lecture, my teacher said, "[FAMOUS CONDUCTOR 1] likes to do this, [FAMOUS CONDUCTOR 2] likes to do this" and those two things are completely opposite. The wide variety tells me that there aren't any personality traits or intellectual traits that act as barriers to good conducting.
2. The thing that the conducting professionals do share? Time and experience. A fair portion of their effective techniques came from doing it wrong at first and looking for a solution. And even when they knew all the "right stuff", it takes time to really make it yours. My first conducting teacher, who is amazing, made a B in her first conducting class. Teachers I love and admire can all tell me stories about LGPEs gone awry, moments (or even months) of poor pedagogy, times when they were ready to hang it up...they were all flailing baby birds at one time.
In terms of a proper choir (my private school was reeeeeally small), I've only been at this for two years. Rome wasn't built in a day. The fact that I've made some mistakes doesn't make me a failure at conducting. If it did, we'd have far fewer conductors in general. It will be my willingness to acknowledge them and my efforts to correct them that will help me become the person some flailing baby birds look up to some day.
But I read ultimatums like the one listed above (read it today, in fact) and I become depressed. Regardless of the circumstances, I know in my heart that I have not always done my 100% best for my choirs and I start to wonder if I'll ever reach the level of fluidity and expertise of my mentors or if I'll always be this insecure, flailing little baby bird. And it is in those moments that I have to step back, check myself and remember some things:
1. Professionals in my field vary widely. Persons cited in lectures and textbooks come in all ages, demographics, backgrounds and even in rehearsal and conducting technique. In today's lecture, my teacher said, "[FAMOUS CONDUCTOR 1] likes to do this, [FAMOUS CONDUCTOR 2] likes to do this" and those two things are completely opposite. The wide variety tells me that there aren't any personality traits or intellectual traits that act as barriers to good conducting.
2. The thing that the conducting professionals do share? Time and experience. A fair portion of their effective techniques came from doing it wrong at first and looking for a solution. And even when they knew all the "right stuff", it takes time to really make it yours. My first conducting teacher, who is amazing, made a B in her first conducting class. Teachers I love and admire can all tell me stories about LGPEs gone awry, moments (or even months) of poor pedagogy, times when they were ready to hang it up...they were all flailing baby birds at one time.
In terms of a proper choir (my private school was reeeeeally small), I've only been at this for two years. Rome wasn't built in a day. The fact that I've made some mistakes doesn't make me a failure at conducting. If it did, we'd have far fewer conductors in general. It will be my willingness to acknowledge them and my efforts to correct them that will help me become the person some flailing baby birds look up to some day.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
No Man Is An Island
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
-John Donne
We are all involved in mankind, whether we want to be or not. The money we earn at our jobs was first given to us or our companies by people who require whatever service you have to offer. The homes we sit in were built by people and the water and electricity that flow into them are maintained by people. The foods we buy were grown/produced/cooked/synthesized/whatever by people, even if those people were only maintaining the machinery that squirts the peanut butter into its container. Our cars were made by people and the streets we drive them on are maintained by people; how well is likely tied to how desirable our locales are considered to be, and that means to you whatever that means to you. I don't have a savings account without first having a bank full of employees who watch it, apply interest to it, and make sure (to the best of their ability) that no one but me gets to use it. If I plant a garden, I have to obtain seeds and tools prepared by other people. So on forevermore.
There is much in our culture that holds up this ideal of self-sufficiency, but none of us is truly, in the most literal sense of the word, self-sufficient. We depend on other humans for things we need. Even a vegan hermit requires other life-forms for survival. Some of the systems we have in place reflect where we have rejected isolation in favor of collective improvement. Have you ever really reflected on the miracle of public education? A group of people look at the skills needed for various disciplines, gather their knowledge and resources and seek the ideal that every student get the same opportunity to gain skills. Now of course, we haven't yet achieved that ideal because we are human and imperfect and there are millions of variables (one for every kid!) that make it tough to apply consistent standards across schools while also accommodating individual needs. But man - the fact that a group of people once decided "We will create a system where kids can learn new things and perhaps expand their opportunities" and then offer that system to every child? Wow. And I have the job and the opportunities I have because a group of people decided to build my high school, accredit it so that my diploma is valid, and hire qualified teachers who gave me the skills I needed. And then other people built my college and did all those things. Some people built roads that enabled me to get to those schools, and still others strung wires up in the air so there would be light to read by. I could go on for pages. I am not a self-made chorus teacher. I am the result of countless individuals, from the college professors who showed me how to run a rehearsal to the elementary school custodians who made sure my environment was sanitary, bringing their skills and efforts to society.
No man is an island. And if we look at our accomplishments and try to declare ourselves islands, we are lying to ourselves.
Friday, April 5, 2013
God's Instagram During Creation
For those unfamiliar with Instagram, it's a photo-sharing app and website...it's like Twitter, but with pictures. The photo appears, then a list of who has "liked" it, then the poster's caption. Normally on Instagram, the most recently posted picture appears first and you go backward chronologically; I have reordered these so that the first picture posted is the first you see.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
New Adventures and also Lists!
I am having a little trouble sleeping this evening.
Tomorrow is a big day for a few reasons...
1. Easter Sunday, which means a big ol' party at church starting (for me) at 7:30 AM
2. The Garner Egg Hunt, which I'll only be able to visit for a short time because...
3. ...I'm going to the beach!
My Spring Break is this week and last Sunday, my aunt invited me out to her condo on the beach. I can't stay the whole week because I have class Thursday night, but I can at least stay a few nights. It's a big deal for me because, at a Google Maps-estimated 7 hours, it will be the longest I have ever driven alone. I've driven 9 consecutive hours with a passenger in the car (it was my mom's car and I felt weird about letting someone else drive it) and I've driven between 4 and 5 hours alone on three occasions (all to or from Savannah). This drive contains a long list of directions and requires me to exit or turn pretty frequently...the longest Google Maps estimates I'll be on any one highway is an hour, so I think I'll be pretty occupied with looking for the next turn for much of the ride. I'm not really nervous or anything, although I'm not sure the same can be said for my husband. He's said, "I wish someone were riding with you" about 7 times. I think I'll be all right, though. I have some things in mind to help me stay entertained on those 30 to 60 minute stretches of a single road. The real nail-biter will be the trip back, because I plan to leave Thursday morning and go straight from the beach to Athens for class. Yes, that's right, I'll be dragging my raggedy keister into Aderhold Hall straight from a 7 hour drive, all gross from the car ride and smelling like Doritos. Hotness.
No, I am not telling you what beach I am going to because the weather forecasts for that place keep changing from favorable to unfavorable and back again and I don't want you people getting all schadenfreude on me with your, "Hey, it says it's going to rain. You shouldn't go" or "Haha, sorry the weather's going to ruin your vacation!" SHUT IT. YOU ARE SCREWING UP THE KARMA WITH YOUR JEALOUSY.
In related news, I got a little ridiculous with the packing. I'll be there Sunday night through early Thursday morning, which means I'm basically spending three whole days there. Here's what I thought I would need for three whole days in which the only other person to see me will be my (technically my husband's) aunt:
Some of the things I'm looking forward to the most are pretty indicative of what a hermit I can be sometimes. Don't get me wrong - I've had lots of wonderful road trips with friends and family and have really enjoyed them (Jenna's Get Pumped playlist is top-notch), I'm just looking forward to a different sort of vibe. Kinda like how if you usually go to Pueblo's for lunch and one day decide to go to O'Charley's, you're looking forward to the O'Charley's even though you totally still love Pueblo's. Ok. Disclaimer over. I'm looking forward to
driving for as long as I want to and being able to decide what to eat really quickly rather than vacillating because I want to please the other people in the car
having complete and insane control over the in-ride entertainment ("First I'll listen to an episode of The Venture Brothers and then I'll record myself talking about my life and use it in a YouTube video!")
having a room all to myself where I can leave junk everywhere and watch stupid movies really late and not feel like I'm inconveniencing or bothering someone else
doing the stereotypical beach stuff, like reading, but without the nagging back-of-the-mind voice that goes "You should be more sociable. You're being weird."
cooking and eating some fresh seafood (Auntie is a forreals amazing cook)
basically being a selfish jerk and doing whatever I want without being considerate of anyone else's preferences or schedule except for Auntie, and she's pretty much one of the most laid-back people I know
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
So those are my Spring Break plans. After class Thursday night, I'll make the hour drive home (a drive which I'm sure will be punctuated by extra crazy since I'll have driven all day...should probably record it) and probably crash hard and sleep until noon on Friday. It will be the first Spring Break traveling I've done since college, only it'll be warmer because my college thought the first week of March was an appropriate time for a "Spring" break. If you've read this entire self-seeking descent into madness, I hope you enjoyed it.
Tomorrow is a big day for a few reasons...
1. Easter Sunday, which means a big ol' party at church starting (for me) at 7:30 AM
2. The Garner Egg Hunt, which I'll only be able to visit for a short time because...
3. ...I'm going to the beach!
My Spring Break is this week and last Sunday, my aunt invited me out to her condo on the beach. I can't stay the whole week because I have class Thursday night, but I can at least stay a few nights. It's a big deal for me because, at a Google Maps-estimated 7 hours, it will be the longest I have ever driven alone. I've driven 9 consecutive hours with a passenger in the car (it was my mom's car and I felt weird about letting someone else drive it) and I've driven between 4 and 5 hours alone on three occasions (all to or from Savannah). This drive contains a long list of directions and requires me to exit or turn pretty frequently...the longest Google Maps estimates I'll be on any one highway is an hour, so I think I'll be pretty occupied with looking for the next turn for much of the ride. I'm not really nervous or anything, although I'm not sure the same can be said for my husband. He's said, "I wish someone were riding with you" about 7 times. I think I'll be all right, though. I have some things in mind to help me stay entertained on those 30 to 60 minute stretches of a single road. The real nail-biter will be the trip back, because I plan to leave Thursday morning and go straight from the beach to Athens for class. Yes, that's right, I'll be dragging my raggedy keister into Aderhold Hall straight from a 7 hour drive, all gross from the car ride and smelling like Doritos. Hotness.
No, I am not telling you what beach I am going to because the weather forecasts for that place keep changing from favorable to unfavorable and back again and I don't want you people getting all schadenfreude on me with your, "Hey, it says it's going to rain. You shouldn't go" or "Haha, sorry the weather's going to ruin your vacation!" SHUT IT. YOU ARE SCREWING UP THE KARMA WITH YOUR JEALOUSY.
In related news, I got a little ridiculous with the packing. I'll be there Sunday night through early Thursday morning, which means I'm basically spending three whole days there. Here's what I thought I would need for three whole days in which the only other person to see me will be my (technically my husband's) aunt:
- Three T-shirts
- Two "nice shirts"
- Two sets of "good shorts"
- A pair of average shorts
- A pair of capris
- Lots and lots of underthings
- Four swimsuits
- Four separate sets of pajamas
- Four pairs of shoes (two pairs of sandals, some slip-ons and some Converse)
- All of my makeup
- Three movies and four books, because I'm totally gonna get all of that watched and read
- My textbooks and school supplies (lolwut?)
Some of the things I'm looking forward to the most are pretty indicative of what a hermit I can be sometimes. Don't get me wrong - I've had lots of wonderful road trips with friends and family and have really enjoyed them (Jenna's Get Pumped playlist is top-notch), I'm just looking forward to a different sort of vibe. Kinda like how if you usually go to Pueblo's for lunch and one day decide to go to O'Charley's, you're looking forward to the O'Charley's even though you totally still love Pueblo's. Ok. Disclaimer over. I'm looking forward to
driving for as long as I want to and being able to decide what to eat really quickly rather than vacillating because I want to please the other people in the car
having complete and insane control over the in-ride entertainment ("First I'll listen to an episode of The Venture Brothers and then I'll record myself talking about my life and use it in a YouTube video!")
having a room all to myself where I can leave junk everywhere and watch stupid movies really late and not feel like I'm inconveniencing or bothering someone else
doing the stereotypical beach stuff, like reading, but without the nagging back-of-the-mind voice that goes "You should be more sociable. You're being weird."
cooking and eating some fresh seafood (Auntie is a forreals amazing cook)
basically being a selfish jerk and doing whatever I want without being considerate of anyone else's preferences or schedule except for Auntie, and she's pretty much one of the most laid-back people I know
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
So those are my Spring Break plans. After class Thursday night, I'll make the hour drive home (a drive which I'm sure will be punctuated by extra crazy since I'll have driven all day...should probably record it) and probably crash hard and sleep until noon on Friday. It will be the first Spring Break traveling I've done since college, only it'll be warmer because my college thought the first week of March was an appropriate time for a "Spring" break. If you've read this entire self-seeking descent into madness, I hope you enjoyed it.
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