New project

I started another blog to post short stories and other works of fiction I've been working on. Check it out if you're so inclined:

http://breakingrulesoffiction.blogspot.com/

The Big Move

Its been a while since I've updated but there's been a lot going on in my life. Good stuff. For one, I've moved. After months of trying to find the right place (or any place) in Northeast Minneapolis, I finally did. I've also started working a part time job at a dance theater here. Why not jump right into it? Here's a few great things about where I live now.

Concerning my new neighborhood:

-There are several gigantic parks around my apartment. I mean....huge. Like, one of the public playgrounds is a waterpark huge.
-People say hi to you here. Or howdy or hola or 'sup girl.
-The air here is crystal clear. I have no idea how this is the case, considering everything that isn't a neighborhood is some sort of industrial plant. But its true. I went for a run in one of the gigantic parks last night and I could see a billion stars and the skyline of the city so clear it was ridiculous.
-The sheer number of places for me to get delicious Mediterranean/Middle Eastern/North African cuisine here....I mean....the Holy Land deli is blocks away from my house. Blocks. Okay, this might turn into a con at some point when I can't fit into my clothes anymore. But for now, its amazing.

-Also, the Anchor Fish and Chips is really close by. Too close. Like, a block away from my part time job and favorite music club close. Also could easily become a con without a little care.
-It smells good here. It smells like....flowers and cooking and fresh laundry. And weed. It smells like weed, too.
-There are trees and bushes and gardens and green all over. Its the middle of the city, but its just as beautiful as Hampden Park. More, because miles of neighborhood are this way.
-There is about 90% less institutionalized racism. I won't go into it here, but I went to enough neighborhood meetings when I first lived in the old place to feel really....icky about this the whole time I was a resident. Some of the aging wealthy hippies there really want to keep a layer of sick plastic wrap over that place.
-There is art. Everywhere. (I know, its called the Northeast Arts District so this should be obvious) But its not nose-in-the-air, inaccessible art. For example, this weekend, there's a garage sale. One that's being hosted by the friends of a guy who used to be the largest and most influential art curator in Minnesota. They're staging an intervention because he has a garage full of art and artifacts that he's never going to come back for. So they're selling it all with his blessing. Cheap. Come one, come all.

-There are places to go out here, all within walking distance. There's one bar here that has a dock on the Mississippi. You can sit directly on the dock and dangle your feet in the water (if you aren't worried about losing a toe or something). To your right, more river. To your left, the skyline of Minneapolis. Directly in front, a $1.50 pint of Premium.


Concerning my apartment

-Its so cute. I mean....so cute. It was built around the same time as the old building only its been very, very well maintained. So it has all the same great vintage woodwork and charm (and kitchen sink!) only its solid.


-Every room has light. So much light. My whole living room is windows. And light streams into every room for the majority of the rest of the day. Fresh air, too.
-We're all happier here, and more active. And everyone looks healthier which makes me worried about what hidden health problems were being caused by the old apartment.
-There's a church across the street. I'm not a church person but its hard to argue with a gospel choir wakeup call on Sunday mornings.
-Its technically on the first floor but its high enough above street level to feel like there's plenty of privacy. (Read: I can walk around in my underwear and not worry about the poor neighbors accidentally seeing me).
-There isn't a hole under the sink in the bathroom.
-There are two bedroom apartments here so with any luck and a little persuasion, R and E can move in here when they're done living up North.


Yeah. Things are pretty great here. I think its going to be a pretty fantastic fall.

Day 68

I've been trying to sit down and write this for weeks now but every time I do, I seem to just shut down. Its almost like a survival method-every day I read more about this and I go through a huge range of emotion; everything from white hot anger to grief to shock but when I sit down to actually think and process, I can't wrap my brain around it. Back in the beginning when they were trying to convince us it wasn't that bad and that a fix was right around the corner, I read something that warned very differently, and somehow, I knew it was true right away. And now here we sit, watching our beautiful southern coast disappear forever.
There's been anger and finger pointing. But we aren't going to get what we're looking for from the top people responsible for this. We aren't going to get a solution, we probably won't see them held accountable and I doubt their lives or practices will change. They won't even admit the magnitude of what they've done. But the deeper issue here is something we're all going to have to face-our own responsibility in this.
Every turn of the ignition, every plastic bottle, every piece of electronic equipment, every pen, every sheet of paper, every book, CD, object or action in my daily life uses the substance that's causing this disaster. Every tool I use now brings with it a pang of guilt, a mental flash of a harmless creature covered in oil and dying. I have the power to change some of it. We all do. And I think the vast majority of us want to. But in some immediate ways, we're helpless. And that's the worst feeling right now. We've signed our daily lives away to the products these people produce for the sake of convenience and now we're addicted. And the disaster that was bound to happen as a result of this addiction has no fix. We can only watch while innocent bystanders have their habitats destroyed and their lives taken painfully away. And the chain of events, the layers upon layers of effects this will have on the environment and on our lives haven't even begun to manifest themselves.
When I was little, my grandfather used to tell me stories about the birds in his feeder. He would sit every morning and watch them from his kitchen table. He knew their habits, the personalities of different species, who was the "town bully", etc. Occasionally, a bird of prey would take up residence in the neighborhood and he would tell us every time he saw it on the move. One of my first memories was of sitting in their backyard and seeing a falcon take a nosedive only feet away from where I was sitting. I was terrified but he was so excited that I couldn't help but feel that something amazing had just happened. And I remember how we kids would run rampant around their garden, eating fresh vegetables right out of the ground, dirt and all. When I think back on this, I wonder. When we were little, did my grandpa worry? Did he worry that we wouldn't understand the delicate balance of nature? Did he worry that we wouldn't be able to trust the earth to provide without us having to beat it almost to death? Did he worry that we wouldn't respect it and everything we don't understand about how it functions? I know he did. I know he *does*. And it turns out that his fear; the fear of what will be passed on to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren is very much justified.
I guess all I can hope for right now is that someday when I'm older, I can still watch the intricate stories of nature that happen out whatever window in whatever place I live in. I hope I can pass them along to the youngest people around me. I hope for a world in which future generations have a place they can live off of and respect as deeply as my grandparents do. Although now, in reality, I fear that it may be too late for any of this to come true.

Of Great Significance

Three years ago this May, three things happened:
-I lost one of my closest friends
-I started hanging out with a group of people who would soon become like family to me
-The National released an album called Boxer

How are these events linked? May of 2007 was a terrible time for me. I was living alone for the first time in an apartment off of 15th and Portland in Minneapolis. Ella, Grendel and I had dealt with attempted break-ins, drug deals in the hallway and a well intentioned but not so bright landlord who generally thought things would fix themselves and didn't see the need for any additional security. On May 13, I got the news that Jenny, her fiancee Kyle, two skydiving instructors and a pilot had been killed in a plane crash in Montana the previous day. Most of the rest of the month is a blur. I drank a lot. By myself. I listened to Boxer once and hated it.

Then along came June. I was talking to my friend Ryan about the fact that dealing with this loss was especially hard in an apartment where I didn't feel safe (and oh by the way, where I'd just seen the first of a growing army of cockroaches the night before). He mentioned that he and Erin (his then girlfriend, now wife) were the caretakers for the building they lived in and an apartment had just opened up below theirs. I went to see it, signed the lease a couple of days later and by July 1 had packed up the critters and moved into the place where I now live. My first day there, I went up to visit the neighbors and hung out while Boxer played in the background.

This move could not have been a better decision. Over the next few months, I became part of this community that's been my home now for three years. I bought my own copy of Boxer. Lyrics and sound of self-deprecation and sadness mixed with just enough hope to keep moving along made it the perfect soundtrack for that summer. At any given time, at least one of us was listening to it and soon the sound linked itself to memories the way only music can do. Now that album is there whenever I need a reminder of a time in my life when, just as things were at their worst, a new family and place came along and a path was formed that generally shaped everything about who I am today. This is by no means a singular event (because I'm a lucky girl) but it is one of the most significant.

Now, its May 2010. The National are releasing another album and my community is breaking apart. Almost everyone in this building that I love is moving away this spring and summer to pursue opportunities in other countries and states. I may leave too. May is proving itself to be challenging once again. However, I have to remember that although we're going in different directions, I still have the great love of and for not only the people here but all the amazing people in my life. I have a reminder of how great a place this has been to learn in and grow. And what this means to me really is that this year, I'll be starting a new chapter with a new soundtrack playing in the background.

A review of sorts

In my experience studying classical music at the university, there was a prevailing, widespread problem. Its summed up perfectly in the sentiment of my (beloved) high school music teacher who was constantly reminding us students that nothing good happened musically after The Beatles. For the most part, a great deal of my professors and teachers took that a step further and stopped short of any rock music whatsoever. Its almost as though, throughout certain circles of musical academics, there is a fear of being "tainted". That the music we so heavily rely on to maintain our structure as classical musicians is somehow the purest form of art, and that we're on an increasingly sharp downward slope artistically as people stop listening to classical music regularly. This was a constant struggle for me as a classical musician because I love folk, rock and experimental music and I'm always trying to find the places where these philosophies and sounds intersect.

Fortunately, there are artists composing and performing today who form the most vital connection between the fiercely protected history and study of classical music and the progression toward increasingly experimental forms of sound. I went and saw one such artist last night. Johann Johannson is someone I stumbled upon a couple of years ago completely by accident. I've been a huge fan ever since and was beyond excited that not only did I get to see him perform, but my friend Ryan (Aquarelle) was booked to open for him.

I was struck before they even started playing. The performers themselves formed the perfect metaphor-to the right of the stage was Matthias Hemstock on percussion-a drum, a shaker and a compartment full of little rocks and trinkets all wired and hooked up to a laptop which allowed him to control the effects of their sound. In the center, a string quartet, and to the left, Johann himself sitting between a keyboard, a laptop and an antique upright piano. Perfect. You can physically see the bridge being formed between these two completely separate genres and you can already imagine a whole new language being spoken. With string quartet parts that were surprisingly traditional, (including a little homage here and there to the elders; a cello solo reminiscent of the Bach Cello Suites, a few shout outs to fellow Finnish composer Sibelius) and the use of romantic melodies and harmonies, an atmosphere of familiarity was created. The stark contrast between this and the experimental sounds being played by Johann and Matthias formed piece after piece that spoke to a world struggling between preservation and industrialization; the familiar and the new. Its a struggle, but in this, there is harmony as well and the hope that these two things can form together not only in a musical world but in the world at large. But there's still a missing link-the one between this and the other music I love-rock and roll. And that's where Ryan comes in.

An Aquarelle performance consists of Ryan, his electric guitar, several effects pedals (that we make fun of him for), and whole host of electronic equipment all wired up and controlled by Ryan alone. Any confusion this may cause to an untrained eye is soon dissuaded once the music begins-a Debussy-esque melody starts, forming the base of the piece, transforming in signature and time to form a controlled current underneath a series of melodies that build and build until they reach the point of raw sound and emotion-the essence of rock and roll. Slowly, he brings you back down, stripping away one layer of sound at a time until you find yourself at the beginning again, listening to the simple, minimalist melody that formed the basis for the range of emotions you just went through. I never get tired of this. Its the same as listening to a symphony played by an 80 piece orchestra, there's always something you missed the last time around. The big difference here is humility-Ryan's compositions always serve as a reminder that music tends to be melodramatic and grandiose but from silence comes the simplest sounds, and from this all other sound is made.

So why is this music so vitally important? There's a scene in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (stay with me) where the boys bring all of famous people they've collected to the mall. I know you've all seen it, so you all know where they find Beethoven-hanging out in a music store, surrounded by electronic keyboards rocking the fuck out. I always thought it would be exactly like that if any of the great composers were alive today. Our musical geniuses are on their pedestals because they were (and many times are still) way ahead of the time. I can only imagine that they would be using the most advanced technology available to create the experimental sound they had in their minds which stemmed from tradition but no longer fit into it. Mahler never found an orchestra big enough to fit his needs. Beethoven could never get the musicians to play correctly what was in his head. We hear what they created as perfect, but they struggled to find a way to express what they truly had in mind.

I understand and respect very deeply the need to preserve classical music. Its important that we know how something was intended to sound when it was created. And there's no denying the respect due to our very foundations as Western musicians. But I want the old academics to know something; its being taken care of. Your Classical composers, your Romantics, your Minimalists, we're still listening to them. And the music they created still inspires our composers to do what they did-manipulate sound in increasingly technological and creative ways. As we progress, so does our art. It doesn't speak to a lack of respect for the past rather, a desire to build upon it so it continues to speak to each new generation and doesn't get lost in the fray.

A small victory

Today, something incredible happened. As I was watching our President sign one of the most important bills ever passed in the history of our country, I thought of the many stories I've read and heard of people who have lost loved ones because they couldn't afford medicine that could have saved their lives. And I think of a friend I lost too. So, today is for Nora. I hope her story is one of the very last of its kind.

Lists Lists Lists

Somewhere along the line, they started to take over. It was harmless at first....I started forgetting things I needed when I went to the grocery store, I kept forgetting to do laundry or clean the dishes or mail my Netflix. Then, it became the need to remember birthdays and special anniversaries. Next, I would need reminders about what was going on evenings during the week or things I needed to do at work. Now, they're everywhere. On note cards, old stationary, the backs of envelopes that bills I need to remind myself to pay arrived in. They litter my desk, my table, the floor, the pockets of my jeans. They've gotten washed, stepped on, rolled into balls of paper and made into cat toys. They stick up on the fridge, clutter my purse and the passenger seat of my car. Do this, do that, preferably in that order. The most disturbing is when they started making up the majority of my writing. Lists of interesting things about me, lists of things I'd like to write about, lists of character names and places they may live. Lists of books to read that will help me get better at writing. Lists of books to read for fun. Lists of movies to see and music to explore and on and on and on.....
I don't know the exact moment but at some point, I went from being someone who would set one lofty semi-attainable head-in-the-clouds kind of dream for the future then pine for it to someone surrounded by the to-do of everyday things. The thing is, I think this might just be an improvement. I think this because most of the time, I actually follow them. I don't usually finish everything they tell me to but the important ones, the ones with the anniversaries and events and music and books on them, I am always checking those. They're teaching me to take little tiny steps and find encouragement in the accomplishment of everyday things. They're teaching me to try things. Take a risk on this album or go to that gallery and see what I can learn there. They keep me going by reminding me that after a shitty day at work, I get to go do this or that with my friends. They keep me organized and help me remember that, while learning to conduct an orchestra would be great, the cat box needs to be cleaned as well. (And preferably, right away).
The truth is, I like the everyday things. I like enriching the time I used to waste with hard work and good people. I like not constantly feeling as though I should be planning out an elaborate and glamourous future. Mostly, I like the fact that the attention to daily living and exploring has led me to where I am right now. Planning too heavily constantly made me feel inadequate. It kept me from looking up. I'm not saying I don't still want to someday own a house or finish my degree but I am saying that if I stick to this kind of work and follow these lists and learn a little discipline while maintaining an open mind and a desire to examine what makes up the day, maybe I won't feel the need to always think that happiness lies only in the things I may never have.