Grading and "Girl Talk"

Tonight I will be swamped with research papers, final exams, journals, and all-what-else as I wrap up another sweet semester as part-time Prof. For some crazy reason, my final exam is scheduled for 8:30 PM this evening....my students are not happy. Neither am I, but it does give me all of today to do many things which are fun while, I'm sure, my students are scrambling to complete assignments. Such is life in mid-December...

So, I'm creating the syllabus for my Pop class for next semester because it is a very easy and satisfying task. Cut and paste the current into a new Doc, edit the calendar, tweak various sna-fus that popped up throughout the fall, and yahoo! Done. Print. Copy. File 'til January.

I am horrible at keeping track of grades in an official/professional manner. I write them down on sheets of paper that contain a high risk of getting lost (but never have) all the while knowing that Excel spread sheets exist for my convenience. So at this moment on this crisp sunny morn, I'm Excell-ing and organizing my gradebook. What makes this so much fun is that I have the house to myself and am BLASTING the music of Girl Talk.

Who? you say. The name is misleading. "Girl Talk" is a young and savvy tech-y guy exactly a decade younger than myself who specializes in mash-ups. What? you say. I understand. I know the term "mash-up"--taking various tracks of two or more songs, piling them on top of each other and *poof*--new song. Fun stuff. But, I had know idea who this "person" was until a Pop student brought him into class last week (see blog from 12/10) as an example of music from 2008. And I'm so glad he did! I'm having the time of my life right now...entering little numbers into even littler boxes, tabbing, calculating, and listening to Greg Gillis/Girl Talk weave his way through the history of pop music. Whoo-hoo. How? you say. Here it is:

From what I can speculate, Gillis/"GT" has more command of his computer's music making functions that 99% of us (well, definitely me, at least) while ALSO displaying an absolutely astonishing and keen awareness of pop music form, content and history. I have a smattering of his work rolling through my iTunes today, and below are the contents of one particular song and the pieces that I can identify:

"Play Your Part" length: 4 mins, 45 seconds

--drum intro--2 seconds...ARgghhh. sounds like the intro to Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman" but faster
--bass line--"Gimmie Some Lovin'"--Traffic
--vocals, no idea
--hand-claps--damn....taken from something familiar....grrr..... can't identify
--new vocal loop--no idea (i'm beginning to feel inferior by now.....)
--new rhythm track--i've got nothing
--new melodic/harmonic track. YES! "Let My Love Open the Door" slow remix, Pete Townshend
--new-"We're Not Gonna Take It"--Twisted Sister with unidentified female vocals
--new--"Hunger Strike"--Temple of the Dog
--new--can't get the harmonic track, new vocals, didn't get that either
--handclaps--same as earlier sample
--new--Sinead O'Connor "NOthing Compares 2 U" sped up
--last sample--can't get it.
Song over.

So, I would certainly lose at "name that tune" if this was the selection, although, I usually kick-ass at that. I could lose hours of my life due to Girl Talk....

OK, one more...this is the one my student brought in called "Like This:"

--opening--a mash of stuff. I can get the early low track as something from early 90s hip hop. Then it's "Back to Life" by Soul II Soul,
--snippet of LL Cool J's "don't call it a comeback" song
--"body movin"--can't get the artist
--bass line--nothing
--"Rock and Roll Hoochie-Coo"--guitar riff
--organ track--remake of "Superstar"
--Diana Ross, "Upside Down"
--Janet Jackson rhythm track...what song, dammit?!?! something early. "Rhythm Nation"?
--The Carpenters are in there somewhere
--Metallica--"One"
--can't get the rapper
--song over.

Shoo.

I'm am exhausted yet exhilarated. How in the hell would I do a mash-up of my own? The time! The meticulous matching/mashing/mixing.....mon Dieu! But the potential that exists to create and re-create is endless. I'm actually glad that I DON'T know how to do this with any efficiency. My Diss would NEVER get done.

OK, back to my mid-morning mash-up...grades, music, coffee, snacks. Not as interesting as "Girl Talk," me thinks......

Popular Music 2000-2008

This was the "title" of my final lecture for the semester in my Popular Music class. *Sigh.* We met last night to discuss the current state of pop music in the current decade. The textbook I use does a pretty good job of moving chronologically through American pop music history from the early days of good ol' minstrelsy (never an easy subject to teach) to today. Well, the book was published in 2005. So, until then, I guess. The biggest flaw in the book is, indeed, the final chapter. How do you write history while living it?!?!? Oh, wait......blogging. Ha ha!

Anyhoo, I mentioned in the last post that I like to shift the burden of the work at the end of the semester toward my students. Yep, that's the kind of professor I am, dammit! While they are already scrambling and all-nighting, I ease off my responsibilities and give them even more. But wait, before any raised-eyebrows get tilted my way, here's the method behind my madness:

My Pop students were in charge of creating the content of last night's lecture by preparing the following things:

1. select one song from one year between 2000 and 2008 that is a good representative of "popular" music for that year. Explain how it contributes to our historical consideration of "popular music" in the US. Explain what elements of the song (artist, production, genre, etc.) caused it to become popular.
2. Offer three artists who remained absent from our discussion of popular music, or the book's discussion, but who belong in it and why.
3. Offer one or more artists who should be beamed off the planet due to the advent of their popularity.

I did, actually, bring in examples of my own to contribute. I used Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway" for #1; Kansas, BTO, and Hall & Oates for #2; Nickelback, Maroon 5, and the J.Geils Band for #3.

On the whole and throughout the semester, my Pop students were not as enthusiastic about the course material as one might think. It is a history class, after all, so we have to actually talk about and dissect not only the music, but the events, people, places, times surrounding the music. We can't just "simply" sit around and listen to tunes all the time. *Sigh.* I will be the first to admit that I would prefer to create a course simply called "Led Zeppelin," and be done with it. And, alas, sometimes, the actual enjoyment of music in music history classes gets bogged down by, well, the history.

But, last night's class rocked. I have a smart classroom so almost all of the selections had videos/clips available on youtube, which was fun. My students were enthusiastic and had a lot of things to say about the music of "their" decade. I, in turn, felt connected to them a bit more than I have in the past. Although I still feel (and probably act) like a 20-year old, I....am.....not. *Another sigh.* There have been moments teaching pop music, like the week of the 1980s, where I felt totally old, out of touch, and wrinkly. Last night, my students absolutely taught me things about the past 9 years of music that I would never have known. Lovely way to spend a snowy Tuesday, me thinks.

Here's the best part, the part that makes me blush with pride in my young 20-something students.....below is our compiled list of bands who should be beamed off their earth. Zap. Gone. Not a tear shed. Bye-bye bands we don't like (and now you know who you are):

Nickelback
Maroon 5 (I just typed "Moron 5" without even trying to be funny. How funny!)
J. Geils Band
Creed
Axl Rose (after the GnR breakup)
Britney Spears
Miley Cyrus and all aliases
U2
Lindsey Lohan (as singer and all else)
everything to do with High School Musical
Hanson
Jonas Brothers
Coldplay
Tool
Rufus Wainwright (I guess he performed during the college's SpringFest recently. Not good.)
Cher
Gwen Stefani
Hinder/Seether

Hope for the future, yes indeed. *Final Sigh*

the end of "Romanticism and Music"

Today, as I hope to finish an "official" Diss Prospectus to be sent into my grad school "file" (who knows what that contains at this point) in Wisconsin, I also have to prep my last lecture for my "Romanticism and Music" class that I'll teach tonight. It's not the end of the semester quite yet, but we've entered the home stretch. Yahoo!!!

I've been entrenched in academia--with fits and spurts--for almost 20 years. Holy canoli, Batman. I've been teaching in it for seven, on and off as I've also had to complete course work for the ol' PhD. And, as a part-timer, I've also had to acquire side jobs and other means of income which I've written about here in M(MotT). This demands some kind of efficiency on my part--which also comes in fits and spurts--and the implementation of more than a few tricks of the trade, so to say.

An interesting thing I've noticed about myself is the wave of momentum that comes to me at the end of the semester. I've seen friends, peers and students bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived as they stagger through the last weeks of the fall semester while I, in turn, have the endless stamina of the Energizer Bunny. I don't know why. I see the finish line--in this case December 17--and sprint for it, completing assignments, sleeping well, checking tasks of the my list and checking it twice for gaps. My stuff gets done in these last few weeks better, faster, and with more gusto than I usually muster for other times in the semester. Kookie!

In my teaching duties, I pad the end of the semester in ways that allow me to do less of what I'm supposed to do and more of what I want to do. Several friends and classmates can attest to this--the "time to do what I want to do" thing. When I know I'm getting a break, I make it as long and personal as I can.

Sooooo, tonight I will present a mini-lesson on the last Romantic "duality" (a concept that I created to organize my Romanticism and Music class) we have to cover, "Tradition vs. Revolution." This is the eighth one. Previous weeks explored Crowd vs. Individual, Program music vs. Absolute, Man vs. Nature, Science vs. Irrational, Professional vs. Amateur, Nationalism vs. Internationalism, and Material vs. Ideological. By now, Tradition vs. Revolution is fairly obvious regarding music and other aspects of Romantic ideology. That's why it's last. So, I have 20 minutes of lecture tonight. My students will take up the other 120 minutes giving mini-lessons of their own based on their research papers.

I get to listen to their thoughts, make comments and run the audio equipment. Each presentation is 10-minutes. A powerpacked nugget that requires them to be concise and streamlined in their verbal skills. They have to give a one sentence definition of Romanticism as it applies to our class's exploration of it (not just the ol' standard of "it's a period in history between 1820-1900." I believe that strategy of teaching "history" is hogwash, if you're wondering). Then they state their thesis (which we've worked on creating), their musical topic, their reasoning for connecting these three elements (Rom, thesis, music), and an audio example that summarizes it all. So I get to be both critic and DJ tonight. Yes!

My presentation on Trad vs. Rev consists of two things: Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major, Opus 102 and The Who's performance of "Won't Get Fooled Again" from the Concert for New York City DVD from December 2001 (after the events on 9/11 of that year).

Here's my rationale for both: I've mentioned my affinity for Shostakovich. I can do no better describing how much I just friggin' dig his music other than, I do. From the get-go I always have. Plus, his life is fascinating from a historian's point of view (probably not so much from his). He had to constantly defend or shelter himself for the Communist regime under Stalin, to the point (many historians argue) that his "commitment" to Communism was an act that both saved his life and allowed him to circumvent the censors by writing "nationalistic" music that actually criticizes the regime itself. Gotta love that kind of subversion! Play by the rules to break them, I say. Anyhoo, this particular piece was written for and debuted by his son, Maxim in 1957 when the boy was 19 years old. It is an astounding piece (find it and take a listen) in its entirety but I will only play the first movement (there are three altogether). My thought here is that Pappa Shost passes the baton, so to say, to his son, and Maxim--who is still alive--which permits him to eventually live a life of artistic freedom that his father never knew and had to navigate and negotiate with his entire life. And you can HEAR it in the music. Well, at least I can. And I'm the professor, so...... (ha ha. just kidding). I have a kick-ass sound system in my room, and no other classes meet near mine tonight. Look out!

For The Who snippet, I have a DVD of the Concert for New York City which took place shortly after the events in Manhattan on 9/11. Most performances are ok, but The Who blows the lid off of Madison Square Garden. I have never seen men of this generation so poignantly defend the notion that music has power and tenacity like this brief performance. So, again, they pass the baton to the rest of us to be diligent against stagnation, laziness and conformity and to always strive for what we believe in. Good stuff. Let the wild rumpus begin, I say.

And then next week, the whole class session is the rest of the presentations (I have 26 enrolled). I've met with each of my students to discuss their research, and the topics range from Brahms to Bob Dylan, Chopin to Clapton, Liszt to Led Zeppelin. Makes my heart happy just to think of what these kids will come up with, and this has been a great class.

Next semester, I'm not teaching a section of "Romanticism and Music" (at least I still have a job---but we'll see what Gov. Paterson has in store for me....) and I will miss it. I will, however, sincerely enjoy the sprint to this finish line.

OK, back to the Diss. And I think I'll rearrange my office and go the gym...Two weeks left!

safe and sound....sort of

So I'm now carrying around a "Researcher" card as a souvenir from the National Archives. Whoo-hoo. It has my picture on it and everything. I should probably stop carrying this thing around today but the whole trip and experience was so surreal that I guess my access card proves to me that it all really took place.

I had to go to the archives in College Park, MD for the things that I needed after confirming at the D.C. archive site that they were, indeed, in CP. A free shuttle scooted through the city to get there from downtown DC. I didn't know what to expect, so what I encountered, I'm guessing, will shape all other archival experiences, yes? Puh-retty interesting....

Lockers provided space for all of our stuff. Nothing could be brought into the research area. Paper and pencils were around, if needed, for notes. My computer could have come in, but I chose not to bring it so I could focus on scouring the archives, making photocopies of what I needed, and taking notes later. Which means the next two weeks of sorting, writing, sorting, etc.

The initial smaller "search room" had binders and binders along the walls that pinpointed what the archives actually contained. One folder had "Federal Music Project" on it. Score! So this one told me what file number I needed and gave a quick summary of its contents. Then another binder told me where these things were: Record Group number, shelf number, box number, etc. A "pull slip" served as my "order" form. I could take out enough boxes to fill one cart at a time, which turned about to be about 23 or 24 boxes per cart.

"24 boxes at a time!??!?!" you say? "How many can there be?" Yes, I hear ya. My thoughts exactly.

The order form goes in and is picked up only at specific times by the "runners." This is my term for the perky grad students, college locals, or budding researchers who work at the archives and keep that place running in accordance to all the friggin' rules.

The "pull times" are 10am, 11am, 1:30, 2:30 and 3:30. This is the tricky part of the whole sha-bang. You are guaranteed to get your materials within one hour of picking them up. But, you can only have one cart at a time signed out. The book that summarized the contents was VERY GENERAL in its summary, and I quickly learned that an entire "file" (of 24 boxes) could be useless after a quick glance in a few files. So then I had nothing to do until another pull time. And so on.

Mon dieu!!!

I quickly learned to overlap my materials. One cart would come out but another pull slip was already in. Once pulled, those carts could sit in the back for up to 3 days, so I figured I'd gather a whole "Brady" area and at least be able to pick and choose what I needed rather than wait for it.

To put it MILDLY, this was an exhausting process. Two 9 hour days in College Park and my eyes were playing tricks on me, my dehydration level was dangerously low, and my multi-tasking nature had been shut down. Focus. Find any document that even MENTIONS Buffalo. Copy it. Return it to its place in the folder. Return folder to its place in the box (marked with a special Archives place marker. For real. I got yelled at for not having my place marker in a box that moved chronologically by YEAR. Sheesh!). Return box to cart. Grab new box. Repeat the last seven sentences. Again. And Again.

We stayed with my cousin the night we arrived in Baltimore and the night before we left to come back to The Buff. While unwinding on Weds and getting ready for the next big day, he asked me (like most good family members) what the hell I was working on (in a nutshell). I told him. He asked me if I'd be disappointed if I didnt' find something in particular (since I mentioned that no less than three professional archivists made it clear that they were not sure what I'd find "in there"). I said that there were a few "golden nugget" holes in my argument that COULD be cleared up IF the evidence is in a box somewhere and IF I could find such a box. Gulp.

And nuggets I found! This was the thing. I was exhausted but completely wrapped up in piecing this chapter together. It was like a soap opera unfolding with names and places and people coming along on all of this official letterhead. What has been written in Buffalo about the story I am trying to tell seems anecdotal or filled with conjecture. Some even contradicts each other.

Well, I've got the story, baby! It sits next to me on my desk, freshly sorted into color- coordinated folders (in chronological order according to the rainbow--red, yellow, green, blue, purple). Five years of federal documents explaining the painstaking process of implementing the New Deal in Buffalo's orchestral circle. Complete with turmoil, backstabbing, scandal, hand-wringing, pleas for more jobs, and heart-felt appreciation for the FMP.!!!!!! Whoo-hoo!!!! Holy f@ckin' moly.

I hope someone will care about this someday besides me (smile).

On the other side of things, we returned to home Monday to find one of our Beta fish doing weird things (he is Rojo, a feisty deep red one. Usually a tough little sucker) and floating around strangely in his little bowl. He didn't even respond when we held Psycho (short for psychedelic, a beautifully tie-dyed sort of Beta) up close. Hmmmmm....

One of our TVs shut itself off after 5 minutes. Won't turn back on.

My wireless router is "connected" but my computer isn't gettin' it. I've tried everything except a phone call to Verizon. I don't have that kind of time. Out came the DSL cord.

My microwave clock was set at "0:00." No other clocks were blinking or wrong.

My washing machine refuses to spin on its own. It simply stops at "spin." We have to go down in the basement and manually push the dial a bit more into the "spin" cycle for it to work.

But, I found the Nano.

I can only guess that my little house missed us and is pitching a fit. Now that we're back home and I have two weeks off from the greenhouse to write all this stuff into a chapter, maybe my home will become familiar, once again, with the sounds coming from my office......quick clicks from my computer keypad, the pouring of coffee, Groove Salad internet radio, me talking to myself, my slippers shuffling around the hardwood, etc. I cannot stop what I'm doing to call maintenance people and I have faith (oh, yes.....) that the kinks associated with Extreme Research (a new cable show, perhaps?!?!?! Hours and hours of bleary-eyed, frantic members of the Nerd Kingdom searching for that golden nugget!?!?!) will work themselves out as my chapter comes together.

Come on, lil' house. Let's get ourselves back in order. Deep breath.......exhale. Let's go.

Faith and Clocks restored, me thinks....

Regarding yesterday's post, I fell asleep easily after watching Obama's speech from Chicago. I slept like a log. I woke up feeling fresh and clear. Perhaps my internal clock is adjusting. Finally.

I'm packing for D.C. right now and much less nervous about the trip and the research. Friends and family have wished me luck and have reassured my nervousness with lots of, "You'll be fine!"s and "What a cool thing to do!"s (meaning going into the National Archives. And yes, it is cool. For real). So, I'm returning to my usual energized self.

I got all of my midterms graded, classes taught, and clothing washed. Everything in order.

Now, I am a disorderly organized person. I used to be a huge slob (former roommates can surely attest). As I have learned to keep things in certain places and whatnot, I have also noticed that I tend to "lose" things as I multi-task. I put things in their place and forget where that place is. *Sigh.* Back on 7/23, I bemoaned my missing Nano, only to slowly remember where I placed it. I also described what I felt was my shaky faith that someone had lifted my iPod and iShuffle from my house during some remodeling. That notion had always made me uncomfortable.

Well......

I am riddled with faults, and I should have kept that faith in the world all this time (I really did give up hope on the iPod and iShuffle....) and the past few days have confirmed my notion that the world is, indeed, filled with more good than bad.

Yesterday while DESPERATELY searching through Diss notes, crouched on the floor of my office opening folders and skimming my own terrible handwriting, my pen rolled under my office desk. I reached under there only to grab MY IPOD AND ISHUFFLE!!!!! How the hell they were there? I simply do not know. NOTHING in my memory tracks my movements in any way toward putting them there. I can only assume that they had been lying on the floor and simply pushed out of the way and under my desk by other "organized" crap needing the room.

So, I never found the reference I need for my D.C. trip, but I have faith that either I'll remember it on my own as I wind my way through lovely southern NY and PA into D.C. 0r, I'll be able to obtain the book itself (where the info is) at the ol' Library of Congress itself. And, although my iPod and iShuffle were hidden from view, I should have known that they were still around.

I'm wondering about the climate in D.C. over the next few days due to the election. I expect tourism to be down (yes!) because most had to be home to vote yesterday. I also expect a certain faction of political people in D.C. to be hittin' the sauce pretty heavily at happy hour (ha ha). I expect I'll be able to judge from the looks on their faces who voted for whom.

But as Obama said last night, we all need to keep hope and faith part of our everyday outlook, and that the outlook must also extend to the future. I hope the McCain supporters can stop for a moment and become supporters of all of us. I have faith that they will.

I also have faith that when I get back from D.C., I'll be able to find the Nano......cuz it's hiding now, too. (Sheesh!!) Maybe it figures it's time for a change as well.......

daylight "wasting time"

I took a nap on Saturday!!!!! For real! In the afternoon. For two hours. This is a beloved behavior off mine that I have missed dearly. I felt so refreshed and calm and mellow after that 40-winks. Ahhhhhh.

Then the clocks changed.

I have never really been a procrastinator. What needs to get done becomes part of a prioritized list in my lil' noggin (or in my Steno pad) that my days respond to and accomplish. I'd rather just do it and get it over with than let it hang and become a problem (i.e. stress).

I have noticed, however, that as I've gotten older and am working from home and have all of these jobs, that my Task Master sometimes goes on strike, if you will. Instead of getting things done, my TM will find deliciously nonsensical things to do instead. It's making me crazy. I'm making me crazy. I leave for D.C. to do archive research TOMORROW, today is the election, my son is home from school, I have nineteen different appointments and I have mid-terms to grade (that have been staring at me in my office for two weeks now. TWO WEEKS!?!?! Holy hell!).

And, I am exhausted. To the core. I start fading at like, 8:30pm (which until just a few days ago, was 9:30pm) because it's dark at friggin' 5:30. My evenings seem to crawl by, and as I try to go to bed early because I'm tired, I get a second wind. So I'm up til midnight watching my free HBO and Cinemax (part of a new cable package---only free for a few more bittersweet weeks) and accomplishing nothing except becoming addicted to strange vampire shows ("True Blood" on HBO) and watching "The Shawshank Redemption" for the 1287th time (without commercials, though!). And, I'm waking up at 6:15am as the sun comes up, even though my room is as dark as a cave and could get 90 more minutes of sleep.....Grrrrrrrr.......

Mon dieu!

There is absolutely no way that I will get my list done today. To prove that point, I have an hour before I have to leave the house, and instead of knocking off a few mid-terms, I AM BLOGGING.

I will need the Nano in the car today for sure. I'm anxious and jittery. Here are the top five reasons why (in my own rationalizing state of sleep deprivation/appreciation):

1. Today is the election. I live in Buffalo. If I hear one more fucking racist remark that only proves how ignorant the speaker is I'm going to fucking scream. For real. That shit bothers me. For real. It doesn't roll off. I can't shake feeling anxious for the future--not because of the President but because of the intolerance I often see around me (remove the "P" from President and I think I've located the REAL problem in America.....). It stops me in my tracks, and clogs up the gears on this spinning wheel. I can't even explain it I'm so bungled up (maybe a post for another day). Go Obama.

2. I have never researched in an archive before, and certainly not one out of town, paid for by a grant, in the nation's capital THE DAY AFTER THE ELECTION. Jesus. How am I going to sleep tonight?

3. My students---I have been frazzled and distracted lately and they can see it. I know I'm only part-time, but I like that job and want to do it well. And I don't think I've been up to par lately.

4. My family and friends. I haven't been keeping up with them either. When I have time to call or chat, I don't (some form of procrastinating, I think?!?!). Sorry guys. This, too, shall pass?

5. Oh, I don't know.

Hopefully tomorrow will bring some clarity as I will run myself ragged today, have absolutely no down time and drop like a sack of potatoes into my bed later (and sleep well).

In the past when I get overwhelmed, I turn to music to even myself out. I will do so today, but I can't even predict what how my fingers will guide my little Nano's song wheel today. It could be "Sundown" by Gordon Lightfoot or "Break Stuff" by Limp Bizkit. No way to tell.

I am not naive enough to think that when I wake up tomorrow I will feel differently. This shit going on in mi vida loca takes time to work itself out. But, maybe I can feel just a LITTLE differently somehow. Just a teeny tiny bit. For real.

Ok. I think I'll start with Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" and go from there........

"...teach them well and let them lead the way..."

I don't often quote Whitney Houston lyrics (although I have said--with a few beers in me--"Crack is wack" cuz that's one of the funniest damn things she has ever said). But while tending to the poinsettias this morning, I had a few hours to think about something my son said last night that blew me away.

Disclaimer #1: I am not a perfect parent. I have been blessed, however, with a very cool, smart, thoughtful child despite the many times that my "Mom of the Year" nomination has been yanked from my grasp by my own missteps. Ah-hem. I often feel like dropping to the ground, completely humbled, because his own little being takes me by surprise in some really astounding ways.

Disclaimer #2: It's hard to say whether my son's life is "typical" for his age. Many things tell me, "Um, no." But then other things tell me, "This is how it is and it is good." Often these two sentiments tug simultaneously at my heart. I work weird hours at weird jobs, he is surrounded by music, has lived in three states (he's almost 9 years old), etc. etc. He is also surrounded by so many people that care for him and his crazy mama that I am a firm believer in "It takes a village..."

Disclaimer #3: During this election season, I have worried about my son's quality of life as he becomes a teenager, young man, parent, etc. I don't know why it's nagging at me so much. Maybe because when he says things like what I'll describe below, I hope that the world will take care of him as diligently as I have tried to do.

So,

he's really digging this series of books called "The Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series. At first, the title made me see what the hell these were all about, but they are really well done (cuz the "wimpy" kid is the epitome of a nice, smart, creative, cool kid). They are a series of books with cartoons and the day-to-day thoughts of this kid who is probably around my son's age. And they're funny and thoughtful and quirky and all that. We went to my son's school's book fair last night because the author created a new book where the child reading the book actually gets to fill in the book, so my son becomes this kid and can make up stories. My son is all over this, and had his pencil out in the car ride home, filling in stories and stuff.

I also had to attend a wake last night, so I was gone for a few hours. When I got home, my son had been filling in some stuff in his new book. He finally goes to bed and begins reading, and I'm pooped and kind of still upset about the wake, and just want to go to bed myself. He says, "Hey Mom. Wanna hear some of the stuff I wrote in my book?" In my head, I said, "No. I'm tired." Out loud, I said, "Absolutely," and plopped down next to him to hear his various musings. He's going through some cartoons he filled in and gets to a "you fill in the blank" page. Funny stuff that boys like such as, "If I wake up tomorrow as an animal, I'll be a ________."

Then he says, "Oh, Mom, I think you'll like this one." He proceeds to read the following: "I officially predict that 10 years from now, cars will run on 'blank' not gasoline."

Me: Did you fill in the blank yet? (because he actually said "blank")

My son: Yep! Wanna hear it?

Me: Of course I do. Whadya come up with?

My son (clearing his throat): "I officially predict that 10 years from now, cars will run on music not gasoline." Big grin.

Me (stunned, looking at his big smile, eyes welling up, throat closing): Wow. That's a really cool idea, honey. (pause, clearing throat). Wow. Wouldn't that be cool if it ever comes true?

My son (without pause): Well, that WOULD be cool because gas is expensive, and music is free. And gas makes everyone stressed out and music makes everyone happy.

Me (still stunned, blinking back tears, about ready to lose my shit): Well, I think you are absolutely right.......


So, he's going to walk through our front door any minute now, and we'll hang for a bit before we hop in the car, I take him to grandma's, and I drive the 34 miles to work tonight.

Wouldn't it be nice if driving a car filled with music would get me there.....

The Poinsettia Whisperer

I have become a Poinsettia Whisperer. I will be the first to admit some skepticism about my own behavior sometimes, and have had to--in the past--reign in the extra cup of crazy that got thrown into my coffee on some days. So, I had my reservations about taking on another job during the Diss stage even as my little legs carried me straight to it on Day 1. It's a "McJob," in my opinion, and I don't mean that in any derogatory sense. It's just that I go into the greenhouse, I am told what to do and how to do it, I go home. All skills needed are acquired and then left at the greenhouse. Clean and simple. Me likey.....

Anyway, although I've been enjoying my Saranac Pumpkin Ales and getting crafty with pumpkin bowls (see post 10/13), the 7000 poinsettia plants at the greenhouse kindly remind me that the holidays are a-comin.' Yes, 7000 is the figure. No typos here. And holy candy canes are they temperamental little suckers (well, some are giant little suckers).

This relates to my Dissertation in several important ways (wow....that sentence sounded like it came OUT OF my Dissertation....see? The circle of academic life at its finest). I cannot sit in The Chair five out of five days while my son is at school and try to write all day. I am a sprinter more than a marathon runner, for sure. Those hours need to have some breaks and changes in them. The greenhouse job has forced me to be efficient. I have two full days to write, and three squished days to get all hell done (plus other jobs and Momertator duties). I am committed to writing/editing/reading/whatevering my Diss EVERYDAY and so far that IS WORKING. Which is unbelievable. I can write a page after this post, turn it to blue (see "seeing Red" post from June)for sure, and still make it to 7-eleven to grap a 20 oz. "Autumn Blend" cup o' joe for the day. Totally.

The greenhouse is gigantic...several different rooms, hothouses, the whole thing. Filled with perky, thriving and green poinsettia plants of various sizes and breeds. They are growing like mad, and each--as far as a I can tell--has developed its own way of using/abusing the water I pour into the pot. Some soak it up immediately and want more. Others lazily work their way through the water/fertilizer cocktail and wait patiently for me to check on them a few days down the road. Others droop immediately, lethargic like a snake after a good meal. Crazy little suckers.

As I walk through the greenhouses, hose in hand, I have to check EVERY PLANT individually for water treatment. For real. I am prone to talking to myself anyway (only child syndrome, for sure), and now I talk to them.

I'm talking to them about my Dissertation. In fact, I'm writing sentences FOR my Diss while gently swaying through the rows and rows and rows. I'm verbally revising things, asking myself (and the curious poinsettias) questions and working through the answers. Out loud. But quietly. Between the fans, the heater, the water, etc. I don't think any other workers can actually hear me, but one greenhouse veteran did ask me at lunch whether I had headphones on. I can only assume it's because he saw me chatting away merrily with my poinsettias. Without thinking, I responded, "No, why?" He followed with a slightly bemused look and a small nod.

I am the poinsettia whisperer. And I'm writing and watering like my life depends on it. Well, maybe that's too overdramatic....I mean, I can always change my Diss deadline, but my thousands of poinsettias have to be ready in one month. Time to get to work!

Music for babies

When I was pregnant, the "Mozart Effect" was in high gear both in the popular press and various strains of academia. Since the man who extracted this term from science and mainstreamed it for the rest of us lived in Boulder--and that's where I was enrolled for my Masters at this same time--CU Boulder LOVED the M.E. I remained skeptical.

So, I didn't play much Mozart in the air surrounding my growing abdomen but I played other music constantly. I remember really being into Miles Davis at the time, and Ozomatli, Dave Matthews, Pearl Jam, salsa bands, etc. etc. I guess I was experimenting with the general "music effect" rather than focusing on Mozart.

BUT, it wasn't that I wanted my soon-to-be-child to perform better on tests after listening to Mozart (the main theory behind the M.E.), I believed that all music draws some kind of physiological response in the body, so I was listening to what made ME happy in hopes that those good vibes would pulse through the chub o' love rolling around in my big belly.

The same theory applied to after my little son was born. His ears heard everything. And he seemed intrigued by it. I found myself--on certain days--hitting the "repeat-one" button (see blog from June) for "Hero of the Day" by Metallica with the San Fran Symph Orchestra, Bobby McFerrin's "Common Thread," Pete Townshend's mellow remix of "Let My Love Open the Door." just random songs that made ME feel better. Which made us feel better.

So, Saturday I hosted a baby shower for 9 women---one of which is VERY pregnant with baby #4, a girl. It was a surprise for her, and we just hung out, ate goulash out of pumpkin bowls (inspired by my days at the Greenhouse) and lots of snacks and desserts.

I made a "Lullaby Baby" CD for the little-one-to-be.....but mostly for her parents. My son knows almost all of these songs, and when we hear them, I tell him, "We listened to this one A LOT when you were a baby." So now, they are OUR songs. And I always feel better after listening to them.

Here is it. Feel free to comment or add a suggestion. Or try it for yourself! If you'd like a copy, shoot me an email:

Lullaby Baby CD

1. "Little Star"--Madonna
2. "Pink Moon"--Nick Drake
3. "Spiegel im Spiegel"--Arvo Part (violin)
4. "Glosoli"--Sigur Ros
5. "Song for the Boys"--Pat Metheny
6. "Let My Love Open the Door" (E. Cola remix)--Pete Townshend
7. "Sweet Lullaby (Ambient Mix)--Deep Forest
8. "Common Thread"--Bobby McFerrin
9. "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall"--Ron Miles Trio
10. "Bron-Yr-Aur"--Led Zeppelin
11. "Sumiregusa"--Enya
12. "Any Other Name"--Thomas Newman
13. "2/1"--Brian Eno
14. "Spiegel im Spiegel"--Arvo Part (violin and piano)

Dont' get sleepy, now! A full week awaits us!

Home again

My trip to Madison was very productive and good. I'm glad I drove because it gave me a vehicle to scoot around that crazy isthmus at will. I met with four of my five advisers for the Diss, have a schedule, received the necessary inspiration-vibes necesary to complete this huge task, and reconnected with a place I once called "home." Nice.

I've said before (and often) that moving back to Buffalo would be an easier relocation instead of the alternative--find a place with a steady job, move there, and complete the Diss. And, in MANY ways, it was been easier. More importantly, it's been more satisfying, I think, than if I had just thrown my resume/CV into the national employment pot. It's a full life here built on many different aspects of living. Grad school was sooooo isolated and sooooooo insanely focused on school, which I guess it had to be at the time. Monochrome instead of tie-dyed, if you will. I told many people over the weekend, "I'm stayin.'" In Buffalo, that is. I have more opportunities here than anywhere else I could have gone, contrary to popular opinion. I'll make it work here somehow. I'm diggin' it.

The Diss defense is "scheduled" for sometime in April 2010. And holy fucking pumpkins do I have a lot to do. But, the good thing is that all my advisers are on board for my topic--music in Buffalo during the Great Depression, in a nutshell--and through all of my own worries and self-doubts, THEY have confidence in me to get it done. This is huge. It adds some momentum.

I also realized, while in Madison, that I have A LOT of support around The Buff as well, and maybe I don't always know it, feel it, acknowledge it as much as I should. As one of my piano student's moms said to me yesterday after telling her about the reason for the trip, "You have an interesting life!" And she meant it.

I do? I've had her words rattling around the ol' noggin for over 12 hours now (which turned into a dream of some sort, but that's already vague and fading fast). I do, me thinks. It's oddball as far as scheduling, unpredictable as far as income, and always in need of an explanation ("What is musicology"? is usually question numero uno). And, now I will be spending days careening my vehicle around this city to explore various archive files, historical societies, lost tales, hidden gems followed by countless hours trying to scrap a book out of this hearty collection of histories. *Gulp*

What will keep me sane (relatively speaking, of course!) is the fact that I'm here in Buffalo. I won't be able to do this without the people, places and things that inform my life here. No way. While it was fun to be in Dairyland (Wisconsin) again and to feel the energy of being on campus and whatnot, my energy has definitely shifted back to Buffalo, to this community and to the potential HERE. For all of us and for everything.

So, I still scan the nation's musicology job vacancies posted by the American Musicological Society, and I still have to work hard to push away thoughts of "Screw it! Get a real job!" that rear their cranky heads when I'm tired and overwhelmed by my own self. But I'm more confident that I have made the right choices. So, here I am, home again. And I'm staying put.

And, I love chicken wings, sports, and beer. I think that about clinches it.

getting ready for "Mad City"

When I get home this late from teaching (10pm-ish), it's hard to just plop down and fall asleep. I love teaching this Thursday night class.....the topic is engaging (ideology of Romanticism and music), the students are engaging, and I have to stay alert for the 45-minute commute to home. Tonight, however, I have to sleep because in a wee 6 hours, I will be driving to Madison with my little son to visit our former home and resume my "grad student" status. I have all Diss committee members ready for meetings throughout the next 5 days, I have sent a chapter to them all, and I have packed what needed to be nestled into my car prior to work tonite.

But, there is a VP debate on that I had to DV-R because of my work schedule, so here I sit, in The Chair, writing cuz I feel like it and because I won't turn on the TV to grab a sneak-peak at the spectacle currently on-air. I want the whole slew of events from beginning to end. No spoilers in these parts.

I haven't been to Wisconsin in a year. My son has a great friend (and subsequently a great family whom I am SO eager to see!) who lived on our former street. I loved my house there, with its own quirky post-WWII elements, its lovely street, its part of my memory of the single-mom-grad-student thing. It will be weird to drive by "it." Yes? But, these things happen.

Madison is a great city. "Mad City" in many papers and such. The Liberal Bastion of the Midwest. Etc. That's why I have to don comfy clothes and watch this damn debate because I certainly can't go to Madison unprepared. Holy canoli, batman.

Time to go. Wish me luck.

Rushin' Russian piano music

I've always said that I have fortunate experiences with great and influential piano teachers. Whether it was just that their styles matched my abilities and interests as a student (therefore I instinctively liked them) or whether they were REALLY good (and I liked them) is part of the hazy mist of memory. BUT, I know I learned a helluva lot during periods when I took lessons. And, with the new baby Grand in the front room (now dubbed "BG"), I have played through much of my old and familiar pieces by now. So, I'm feeling the itch to learn something new.

Something else I often realize is how circular the flow of music is in my life (yours, too perhaps?). This next little story will--eventually--tie the above thought to the thoughts below. Trust me on that, and the coffee's kickin' in so we're good....

Anyway, in my classes that I'm teaching this semester, I require one student to present a Listening Post at the beginning of each class meeting. For the Pop Seminar, it has to be an example of "popular" music of any genre that falls between 1820 and 2008. Good examples so far, for sure. For the Romanticism class, the selection must exemplify one of the seven Dualities that we defined inherent in Romantic ideology. Again, any genre/style since 1820 or so.

Last Thursday, the Romantic student played a snippet of Shostakovich's 10th symphony. It's the part of the fourth movement when Shostakovich implants his initials--D (for Dmitry), S, C, H (in Russian) into the horn section and slams the audience with his own freed identity (it was after, finally, he was able to write as he wanted and not cater to the Soviet regime. What a refief!). The student suggested the Duality was Crowd vs. Individual. Good choice. And, what a piece! It sounds like he's taking the whole continent down with him...or maybe emerging from/hovering over its ashes....tough call.

ANYWAY, on the 45-minute ride home, I remembered learning some Shostakovich piano preludes a while back (a long while, actually, *sigh*) and seeing the complete book of them when I rearranged my front room in preparation for BG's arrival. But, I have not played through these pieces. Hmmmmm. When I got home, I searched my iTunes and CDs for Shostakovich music. I have puh-lenty, but haven't listened to them in while. Hmmmmmm.

While earning my Masters in Musicology and being aware that I would (eventually) attempt the PhD, I dabbled with the thought of honing in on Russian music studies. The fact that I'm an Americanist now? Well, I'm happy with that, for sure, but Russian orchestral/piano music has always drawn in my ear and piqued the historian in me since I first learned a few of Shostakovich's piano works way back when.

What I am going to attempt to do throughout the next few months is carve out time for yet another musical hobby, which is Shostakovich. I'm narrowing in on his piano Prelude and Fugue No. 5 in D Major from Op. 87 written in 1950. Having the BG begs me to do so. I am aware of several biographies/analyses of his life and works written after the bru-ha-ha of his (supposed) Communist ties and cultural influences of his music. So, I'll read those. And, I want to start collecting more audio. He's got lots of goodies out there. Hopefully an orchestra within reasonable distance of the Buff will perform something soon....fingers crossed.

This Prelude and Fugue in D Major is no easy feat. Shostakovich's music FLIES; it rushes with speed, agility, energy and passion. This particular fugue...when I look at the notes, it looks almost elementary in design on the page (If you can find a recording, I highly recommend it. Mine are performed by pianist Michaela Harel.). However, it is often a three-voice fugue (mostly two, though), so one hand is playing the subject while simultaneously playing the countersubject while the left hand introduces the subject again, and so on. It's crafted so damn well...but this sucker MOVES. The tempo reads 136/quarter note and the theme is in eighth-notes.....oy vey. But, as I listen to the recording, I can feel the energy it in and I want to play it. Simple as that. It will be worth negotiating new finger acrobatics and hours of practicing. I hope my neighbors are prepared for a little Russian in their dinner music...

So, in the 15-year time period since first playing the Prelude and Fugue No. 1 of Op. 87, I return to Shostakovich and will dust off the cobwebs around his music. I will thank my student this week for reminding me of the power of his works and reigniting my intrigue. And, of course, I'll continue as Momertator (see post from 8/6) and hope my little son doesn't mind learning about Shostakovich over the next few months (ha ha). I'm going to practice right now. I have 30-minutes. Then I have to open files for Chapter 2. As a piano student, I would play hour after hour. *SIGH* Eh, things change, yes? But, it appears that some things stay the same even if they are forgotten for a bit.

I think I'm going to like this...

Mums the word...

I have found the perfect part-time job for myself now that the Diss schedule is heating up. Another job while writing the Diss, you say? Absolutely, I reply. Here's why:

--with too much time on my hands (Mon--Fri, 8:30--3:30) while the little guy is at school, I become sort of inefficient at times. 'Tis true. During the five weeks in July/August where I had ALL time on my hands, I was able to both rationalize and schedule writing and "real" time to do this and that. But it's amazing how quickly I can burn hours not writing (but my house and side projects get the better end of that deal....).

--an ad in the town paper asked for part-timers interested in working on a farm/greenhouse in the area. I marched down there within minutes of my son's first steps on the school bus a few weeks ago. Last week, the owner called. I started on Monday.

--my shifts are M/Th/F from 9-2, allowing for a buffer zone between a late morning school bus and time to get home, regroup, and then, again, wait for the school bus. And, this extra cash will cover my car payment (funny how that math worked out so well).

--I needed something to do (that paid me to do it) in a framework of having to prep nothing, lead no one, be told what to do for each task, do it, go home. That's the jobby-job I needed, and that's what this is.

--Working in a greenhouse this large (it's a biggie) is interesting. I watered poinsettia plants for two hours on Monday. There had to be at least 5000 of these plants. For real. It was almost Zen-like. The greenhouse was cozy and humid (the air outside was damp and brisk), the continuous sound of water was relaxing, and only once did someone come to check how I was (I still like autonomy). Then I had a snack.

--I learned how to use the cash register, greeted, aided and cashed out customers. Easy-peasy. And fun. The place is filled with pumpkins, hay bales, mums, fall pansies (orange ones!), various perennials, and lots of life.

--For the last two hours, I selected various colors of mum plants to arrange 3 at a time in "mum bowls" to be out on the floor of the public section of the greenhouse. My choice. Any 3 color combos would do. I wheeled them out on a big rack, watered them, arranged them nicely, priced them, looked at the clock, and went home.

Ahhhhh.

I see a healthy rhythm of the week developing that allows for little slacking and a lot of friggin' production on my part. Yesterday, Tuesday, I prepped the material for church on Sunday, went to the gym, prepped my material for class last night, and did every errand/loose end/phone call/laundry bag/dishes/vacuuming....all of it.

Today, Wednesday, is my day to write and work on the Diss. Chapter 1 is sooooo close to being done, and today is has to get done. Cuz there is no other time to do it.

I have a feeling that now that football season is in full-swing and my boyfriend spends the afternoon/early evening hours at a friend's house on gamedays, my Diss work may bleed into Sunday afternoons. And potentially late evenings after everyone is asleep. And maybe for a few minutes when I can grab them. This is good. It will keep me on my toes and the tight schedule will breed efficiency. Yessirree.

So, that's that. Time to write. The grass can be cut later in the afternoon, the messy garage can stay that way until Saturday, and at 3pm, I will jump off The Chair with much accomplished. Let the games begin!

the loop of "work"

Several things are going on. I've got quite a list for myself...

But first, I am actually enjoying revising my Chapter 1. Today. Yessirree. Monday, however, was a bit of a shocker since I printed out the 20-page document (which I hadn't read since early May) and started reeling in its unfamiliarity even though, logically, I knew that I wrote it. As I'm reading, my inner voice begins whispering, "Did I write this?" Oh, and "what the hell am I talking about in this paragraph?" AND, "this doesn't belong here at all!!!" AND, "what the f**k does this mean?"......etc. etc. Within three pages of this mess I felt the swirly panic of adrenaline weaving its way through my little body. And then I felt like taking a nap. Ugh. Not a lot of productive stuff at the onset of a workweek.

BUT, yesterday, Tuesday, I had to prep for my Seminar in Pop Music to teach later that day. After pulling up the files I used last semester, I realized that we'd be discussing pop music (Tin Pan Alley mostly) from the Great Depression which just so happens to be the era of my Diss. I realized how fascinated I am with this era (hence the commitment to years of Momertator status...see post from 8/6). I got super excited, and after finishing the prep for class, returned with determination to Chapter 1. And, things started falling into place. For real. I will probably lose 5 pages or so as I revise, but I'm moving thoughts around, adjusting grammar, tweaking evidence, strengthening theories. Today, after a few more things get crossed off my list, I see about 3 hours ahead to do more. This feels good. I could get Chapter 1 done--all in black, done, done, done--by Friday, me thinks. What a feeling! So I "worked" yesterday doing the two things I love--research and teaching. All about music, history, and analysis. Yummy.

In high school, I was a good student. I took all the advanced courses in all the advanced things offered--sciences, math, English, history. Blah blah blah. When choosing a path in college, I deferred to the HOBBIES I enjoyed most, much to the chagrin of guidance counselors and family members who saw me becoming some power Business Executive or something (OMG, could you imagine?!?!?!). So, I went for things English and Music and got a teaching degree to boot. Over the years, various concerns and comments have been directed my way as I keep blazing a labyrinthine maze through the world of work that is anything but "traditional" and usually financially unstable. Ummmm, like my life right now. Like, I'm in 23rd grade (technically).

But I think it's working. I LIKE to analyze and learn. Music offers this. Writing offers this. Teaching offers this. And these are the things that I DO. Constantly. I like to be a bit autonomous when it comes to setting the flow of my days. I do not want to punch a clock and separate "work" time from "life" time. To me, it's all the same time all the time. And I get the feeling that I am actually doing this, even at this very moment. It's working. I'm working...

Diss Date

I had a phone conversation with my adviser recently. Now, I'm glad I left Madison to move to The Buff to work on the Diss (and develop a life), but when the academic year starts--even as I start teaching myself--I usually feel a PANG of sadness that I won't be traipsing all over campus lugging my backpack, starting new and interesting classes, and being in the hubbub of it all. Madison's campus is really really really cool, and even though it's a huge school (40,000+ students), I found my little community, nooks, patterns. Life long learner, for sure.

I am fortunate to have the adviser that I do. I have heard many many horror stories about other people in the Diss stage who struggle with many problems with advisers besides their own writing and progress. I do not have that, and am very grateful. What I DO have, however, is a "date" for completion of my Dissertation: April 2010. That timetable feels like an eternity and a snap-of-the-fingers at the same time. I will be turning 39 that May, my son will be 10. It sounds like a good year to wrap this whole sha-bang up and move into my 40s, start another chapter (ha ha), close the decade with one helluva graduation party (Bounce House for adults?).

So, Monday when my son steps onto the bus, I am planning on beginning my Diss schedule. Because I have to. In my mind, if I don't complete this friggin' book by April 2010, I will never be able to face the next decade with any dignity. Having this target date--and telling people about it so they will check up on me (hint, hint)--is very healthy for me. I'm good with tasks. It's just that this one, this Diss, is a challenge like I've had never before. Exciting and scary. Unfathomable and invigorating. Nebulous yet clear.

Anyway, the date looming ahead has reinvigorated my Diss energy. I'm visiting Madison in 3 weeks just to absorb some academic vibes and meet with my adviser and some friends. Some PhD ju-ju, so to say. By then, I will contact all Diss committee members and secure their involvement, revise/finish my Intro chapter (gulp) and rework and add to my Chapter 2. These things will get submitted to my advisor by Oct. 1. My other committee members will get the Intro/Prospectus chapter. Then, it's all up to me. Gulp.

ANYWAY, my son steps on the bus at 8:25 Monday morning. Coffee will be made and office will be organized. The Chair will be ready. I will be ready. 8:30-----showtime. Let the games begin!

Baby, it's Grand!

Well, I don't know if a 5-foot Kawai Baby Grand--black and shiny and brand new--is going overboard, but I have easily rationalized my purchase (after about 4 nano-seconds of "buyers remorse") because of how uncontrollably this piano rocks!!!!! Ahhhhhh.

I've gone through all sorts of repertoire and am amazed at two things: #1. how wonderful my hands feel playing this baby and #2. how selective and stubborn my aging brain can be while reading music that I supposedly "know."

Regarding #1--my hands, arms, and body feel so much better and at home playing this piano compared to my digital Yamaha. No comparison. My fingers fly and my technique is quickly snapping back into shape. A few neighbors have commented on their ability to hear me playing, most of which has been positive. Not only was I the first neighbor to blow up a ginormous Bounce House on the front lawn (see post from 6/25), I am the first to play a piano at levels reaching into kitchen window of a neighbor three doors down. Yahoo!!!!
I type a lot and fast. I think this has somehow quickened the agility of my hands. For real. In college, I had slight symptoms of carpal tunnel in my wrists from playing the piano, and in grad school, that returned as I dumped mass quantities of the English language onto mass quantities of Word docs. So I adjusted my body position at the computer keyboard, and I think this has positively affected my body at the piano keyboard. I see a future conference paper in the works...

Regarding #2: all of my piano teachers, at some point, required me to memorize pieces of music for performance. I eventually became really good at this. I haven't needed to memorize classical music recently nor have I sat and "practiced" in a long time. On occasion, though, or when asked to play something, I'll pull out the music for the oldies but goodies. And, I'm a really good sight reader so I'm quick as far as processing piano music. Anyway, I've noticed that since the piano arrived on Saturday, while reading the music of a piece that I'm already really familiar with, sometimes my brain freezes, and it's like I can't even recognize the notes or something. I've stopped dead in my tracks and stared at a certain passage with no friggin' recollection of how to play it or even negotiate such a mess. So, I usually back up a bit, and try again. Then it usually clicks and flows. Huh??? Maybe too many Happy Hours catching up with me? Dammit, Bud Lite! I thought we understood each other! But again, my keen ability to rationalize my worries away kicks in.....my brain is in shock of what my body is doing....playing a really really good piano for a change, yes? This, too, shall pass. OK. That works. For now.

I've decided to learn to play something completely new starting later this afternoon. I have a list of 19 things to do today (for real) and that's #14. I'm guessing I'll start early-afternoon before my son comes home. I haven't decided what to learn or what will happen to the thoughts in the above #1 and #2, but I will give it a shot.

Any suggestions for Judy's first new piece on the BG??

Piano sale! Piano sale!

Funny how days get away from us so quickly. Blogging was the first thing to take a hit once my son arrived home. Now school has started, and as much as I love being spontaneous and going with the flow, there is something to be said about having a predictable schedule. So, back to blogging, writing, and mommy-ing.

I am already nervous about what I'll be doing three hours from now. The University of Buffalo is having its annual piano sale today. One of my adult piano students (who has a real piano) received a letter from UB explaining that the crop of pianos donated by Kawai last year is ready for sale to the public "at a fraction of the cost." These "gently used" (by piano students.....I was one once...."gently" may be a stretch) babies go on sale Sunday to the general public. With this prized letter my student passed on to me, I get my own private appointment today to peruse these puppies and PERHAPS bring one home of my very own. Holy canoli, batman......

I started piano lessons at age 7. I sold that piano in order to have some cold, hard cash to move to Denver when I was 23. I bought a cool, sleek little Kawai that fit into my even littler apartment when I was 28, but sold that to one of my Denver students (who is now 20, and a great pianist) when I moved to Madison. Also while in Denver, I purchased a Yamaha P80 electronic piano, which rocks and has made me lots of money over the years. It can be placed in its case in the coat closet if I need more room around the house. I lug it to wherever I need to go with it and use it to teach my students here in The Buff. Solid piece of equipment, for sure.

The house that I live in now has a really big front room. One side is the Music Area with my keyboard, music books, CDs, etc. The other side is the Family Room type of thing. I just measured about 52-ish square feet of space JUST IN CASE there is a sweet o' baby grand that beckons at UB today. I am double-checking my finances/credit limits/monthly overhead to see what my max-out price is. If I don't watch myself, I could easily go overboard here (but that doesn't seem to bother me. A new piano!!!!)

I'm nervous because I have become used to playing on a "piano" that has a volume control button and practical mobility. I've also become used to the SOUND of my Yamaha as it comes out of my amp compared to an acoustic, "real" piano. As a kid/teenager/piano student, I would pound the crap out of my piano at my parents' house and gleefully FEEL the vibrations, reverberations, physicality of nailing whatever I was practicing. That sense is rusty after a decade on the Yamaha. What will my house sound like after today???? What will I feel like?

I'm packing a few pieces of music that I know I can just lay out as Testers for today's events: Chopin's "Raindrop" Prelude, a rollicking gospel version of "Precious Lord Take My Hand" that I use in my church job a lot, Bach's Invention #13, and--the true test of a piano's quality---Debussy's "Sunken Cathedral" Prelude. Maybe I'll throw some Rachmaninoff in for good measure.

I'm like a kid in a friggin' candy shop. I started piano lessons 30 years ago this month, I'm not moving from this house for at least a decade (if ever), and after a year of relocation adjustments and challenges, buying a piano that could stay with me for a loooooong time feels like an exhilarating and satisfying plunge. See what a nerd I am!?!??! Hee hee.

The next question is: What will be the christening piece of music that I play on my new baby??? Suggestions welcomed.

"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dreams," said poet Arthur O'Shaughnessy (and then Willy Wanka). Sounds good to me.....

One more week of summer----ish.....

Nothing like feeling summer is over than I did as I drove to SUNY Fredonia yesterday to once again don my "professor" hat. I'm adjunct, so the pay sucks, but there are weird perks to my part-time status (but not ones I'd have any problem immediately chucking to the curb for a full-time, mind you...).

I teach at night twice a week so I still have the whole day to do my Judy-thing in the burbs.
I really have no departmental responsibilities, and as long as my students aren't staging a mutiny or rioting in the halls, I come and go (especially now that my classes start after 5pm).
I have keys to all office needs, audio components and building rooms. I am autonomous.
I have small classes and cool students.
I am highly organized.
I love the town of Fredonia and have found a few hiding spots for cheap food and beers (the latter after class, of course....)
I love the content of my classes, both of which I taught last year (history of pop music in US; music and romanticism--a class that I have created from scratch---yahoo!!).
I can upload all necessary assignments/whatnot from home.
I am still able to feel slightly academic and scholarly but also reflects my "gray area" status as the Momertator.

*sigh*

But, as the days creep closer to my son going back to school and my tax dollars providing me with 7hours of uninterrupted writing time, I see another year ahead in which my theme song will surely be "The Hustle," complete with dance moves, disco balls, and several smoke machines. Adjunct is one job, piano students is another, churchy duties another, and I think I still need some other "thing" to $ettle my delicate micro-economic i$$ue$.

I've been thinking all summer about what this mystery job could be. I don't want to be "trained" to do anything. I mean, for chrissakes. I also don't want any traces of this job to come home with me. No prep is the goal. Something silly in which I already have the tools to go and come and have some fresh Benjamins (both Franklin and Walter, btw) in pocket. Hm.

I think today will be the day that this illusive idea pokes my buzzing brain. Today, Anders, my truly wonderful friend from Wisconsin, and his girlfriend are visiting as they drive from Mass to Madison. This will be the grad-school jolt I need, me thinks. Our plan is to go get chicken wings (no eye-rolling. Those visiting The Buff MUST partake in this ritual), grab some beers to bring home (Buff Ritual #2), and slurp our way into the night poolside at the Brady abode (recently added Ritual #3). Pool heater is on and the list of prep duties will commence after this post. With Anders, my son, my boyfriend and my plan for the next 24 hours all occurring under my own roof, I think I can still be part of summer, part of academia, and part of a creative job-i-ness. Yes? "Do the Hustle....."

Any suggestions on a good McJob are welcomed. Happy Wednesday!

"summer cold....makes me feel baaaaaaad...."

That title is best when sung to the tune of "Summer Breeze" by Seals & Crofts. Ugh.

I don't think I have ever had a summer cold this bad, nor do I even remember having a friggin' summer cold. Dammy damn. I think it comes from the weird energy loop that occurs after you take a great vacation (in my case, five weeks as Dissertator) only to then come home (resume the Momertator) and get really really sick. The Momertator's energy level, organizational prowess, and overall control of life has been in a tailspin since my son came home on Aug. 6. I don't do well with extremes, and while it's been GREAT to have him home and to feel that Mom-part of the Momertator again, holy canoli my brain has been a jumble of Dissertation guilt, pool parties, charades (dinosaurs, ninjas and lions mostly), cooking regular meals, no naps, school supplies, scheduling conflicts and a whole host of other whatnots. I have not opened my Diss files since, well, I'd have to look, but it feels like forever, although I did rearrange and clean my office while rearranging and cleaning my son's room. Oy vey, I say.

My head feels like it's in a vice and that I'm completely immersed in a high-pressure watertank. Nothing is getting rid of this snot-clogged mass, and today I'm going to the nearest Six Flags amusement park with friends and kids. Perhaps if I get on the Round-Up and spin my way into oblivion, something will fling loose in the ol' noggin. Better green goop than brain cells, but any relief is welcomed.

In more fun news, my son grew almost an inch while in Denver. Something in the water? The Rocky Mountain air? I have also gotten much better at playing basketball (a sport which I have always sucked) although the net is lowered for my son's height. Hee hee. Our garden is blooming, my teaching gig $tart$ Tuesday, my piano students are lined up for the fall schedule, my son has reconnected with friends and family (and me!), and the chilly nights in The Buff demonstrate a slow crawl towards autumn colors and pumpkins. Life is good. I'm hoping my sense of smell returns soon. I love this time of year as the sunlight and smells change.

We saw Bob Dylan on Tuesday--3 generation of Bradys witnessed Bobby D. My mother is only slightly older than Bob, and she enjoyed seeing a "legend" in person. My son dug the whole thing in his own interesting way. The concert was good, although even as Bob's voice has often been criticized for its breach of singing/speaking/growling through hours of lyrics, I must admit that "singing" is not part of the live Dylan experience anymore. His band was AMAZING, as is his usual M.O for live shows, and he reworked several classics ("Tangled Up in Blue" especially) to suit his more retro-swing/rockabilly approach of late. What a summer I've had.

I start teaching college kids on Tuesday. I have not begun any sort of syllabus, but I have taught both classes in the past, so my panic button is still in the drawer. I have no idea when this will get done, but it will. Momertator is in full swing.

As for the Diss.......I have to talk with my adviser SOON and did not progress as much as we had anticipated. When my son goes back to school, I have open days to write. That's the theory, anyway. Keep ya posted.

Off to pack snacks, bathing suits, and other day-long goodies to necessitate Six Flags with a head cold. Viva la vida......

Mom + Dissertator = Momertator

So this is the day things get interesting, or as I must admit, back to "normal." Shortly, I leave for the Cleveland airport to pick up my son who has been in Denver with his dad for five weeks. FIVE WEEKS! It feels like an eternity since he left yet simultaneously like it was yesterday. What the hell have I been doing for five friggin' weeks?

I can say that I rediscovered how much I enjoy writing and have gotten better at it.
I can say that I started "practicing"/playing piano at random in my living room during writing breaks and that it feels good. I've missed doing that.
I can say that I made progress on my Diss, for sure.
I can say that I had time to myself and to enjoy others doing various things that I don't do the other 11 months of the year.
I can say that I miss my little guy and enjoy motherhood. A lot.

I am certainly not the only Momertator out there, and I know many dedicated and ambitious Dadertators. In the whole "in-takes-a-village" scheme of things, being a Momertator has pushed my Taurus nature to act on all sorts of behaviors not high on the list---like asking for help and accepting it. So, as my Momertator slowly wakes from five weeks of hibernation, I have to acknowledge Granparentators, Friendertators, Neighbortators, Babysittertators, and so on that aid me through the quagmire of this crazy state I'm in (and I don't mean New York right now). Being a Momertator means finding the right village and then building the supportive metropolis. And I'm grateful and inspired for all of it.

I'm so nervous and excited right now that I could chew through my ceramic Pottery Barn coffee cup. For real. My Word docs. probably won't see the light of day for a bit (I'm guessing by Tuesday I can carve out a few blocks of time to write....thanks Grandmatator!) but I am OK with that. Time is relative, and I want to enjoy the rest of my little B's summer with him. So let's crank up the pool heater (Momertators quickly learn that money is relative, too) and enjoy August in The Buff.

While I accomplished a lot since July 7, and although EVERYONE tells me that I will be "fine" and that I will finish this Diss, the Momertator voice inside my head can throw me a curve ball from time to time. And it's unsettling. Let's see if I can harness some of her more nefarious whispers.....well, how about, "Will all this effort toward a PhD be worth the time away from your son?" or better yet, "You will not finish and your son will see you as a big ol' Failure," OR
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!? YOU ARE EXHAUSTED AND CRANKY. Throw in the towel, dummy!!!" The latter can usually be quashed by an immediate powernap, but on some days......

One month til B's school starts and 3 weeks til I start the college gig. It's going to go fast. I hope I can keep all of these balls in the air, and I really think that when I walk across the stage to finally receive this degree, I'll be handed an honorary "PhD--Juggler" as well. Maybe all of us "Tators" will, too.

Momertator will emerge at 3pm Eastern time as B's flight from DEN touches down in CLE........keep ya posted, as I smile and juggle, of course.

"pure relaxation"

This was the label--"pure relaxation"--for the massage I received on the way home from Lake Meade on Sunday. We all stopped at a day-spa for a little bit of pre-home-arrival pampering. And it was worth it. The massage and the weekend getaway, I mean. Pure relaxation, indeed.

Besides hankering down for a weekend of boating, eating, drinking and talking with my gal pals, two other pleasantries came my way: my laptop served us well at the lakehouse for tunes of all sorts and reasons; I got to see two brief, wild, and woolly thunderstorms overtake Lake Meade. Interesting friends, interesting music, and interesting weather!?!?!? These things make me happy.

During the second storm on Saturday (the first only lasted 20 minutes before sunshine reappeared), we settled around the big dining table for "The 80s Game" brought into the mix by Kelly. Of course, I raced to the computer to throw on some 80s tunes, and several spontaneous sing-a-longs accompanied our attempts to remember trivia from our teenage years (yes, I'm dating myself. Hi ho.). Duran Duran, Cyndi Lauper, Bruce, Prince, Crowded House, AC/DC, Robert Plant, Pat Benatar, so on. I got stumped by a "music" question about the song ABC wrote about as a tribute to Smokey Robinson......anyone?......anyone? "When Smokey Sings" has been bouncing around the ol' noggin since. Damn! What threw me was hearing "ABC" and thinking it was the television station, not the English pop band also responsible for "Shoot that Poison Arrow" and "The Look of Love." Mon dieu!!!!

When I teach my Pop Music course to college students BORN in the 80s, I'm always amazed at how crazynutso that decade was--musically and otherwise. It was a very diverse and schizophrenic decade, IMHO. From The Grateful Dead to The Who to Rick Astley to Billy Ray Cyrus to The Cult to Madonna to Whitney to WHAM! to Aerosmith to Metallica.......head's a-spinnin.' My college undergrads are (usually) surprise and/or amused that this is the decade that I still hold dear to my aging heart. But you can't go back to high school (and, why would you want to) but there is something about the years of it and the soundtrack of it that make for a fun game of trivia during a thunderstorm at a magnificent lakehouse with pals. The "Me Decade," for real.

So, thanks girls for a great weekend and for those of you not there, it was the relaxation, contemplation and interaction that we all should make time for. One day left of Diss writing, and I'm back in the Chair, but much more energized and confident. Cheers to the Girls Weekend and reliving the tunes that got us there!

Jaws 8

So 8 women, almost all married, almost all with kids and/or various combinations of all or neither, are heading to Lake Meade in PA today til Monday. The other night when I turned on the tube to be lulled to sleep, I caught the end of Jaws and the beginning of Jaws 2 (must have been some kind of marathon because as I forward the time on the Channel Guide, Jaws 3 was next on deck). I was bemused by the little town of Amity knowing I'd be in the little town of Lake Meade for the weekend. Funny how things come around like that.

Even though Buffalo sits on a lake (Erie), the "lake towns" are a bit farther west on the I-90 but don't quite have the shabby-chic character of Amity (or the rogue sharks). Most are sandy and beachy with just little delis and no crazy police chief waving guns at beachcombers (although the police are puh-retty strict and rack up thousands of dollars in DUIs each summer. Careful out there.) I often think that when I retire--which implies that at some point I'll have a job to retire FROM--I'll sell my lovely little house in the 'burbs and purchase a year-round beach house with a kick-ass view of the lake from my kick-ass porch. These daydreams make me happy.

Imagine what kind of music playing systems/audio technologies will exist by the time I retire...since each of my girlfriends was "assigned" various tasks and things to bring to Lake Meade by our friend the hostess, I gleefully saw next to "Judy" the words "coffee, tunes." I deliberated how to respond to such an abso-frickin-lutely appropriate task being the highly caffeinated musicologist that I am. Nano? All of my mix CDs from my car? Hmmmmm....

Well, after I publish this post, I'm shuttin' down the PowerBook, unplugging the Creatures, and loading the whole sha-bang into my backpack. What else is there to do? Who knows what music such a gaggle of girls will suggest, and I simply must be able to provide. My iTunes tells me I have 16 full days of music in it. Certainly, I won't fail the gals (except my one friend, who is lovely and crazy like the rest of us, knows every word to every rap/hip hop song from 1984 through the 90s. For real. I'm a little nervous about various holes in my catalog on that one.....). Either way, today's technology will serve us well, me thinks. Nano for the car, laptop for the lakehouse. Wish me luck and watch for sharks.

top twenty albums of all time.....yahoo!

I'm up very early today, which usually implies some sort of mid-day catnap. Today is packed with adventure, however, so I have to pace myself. Writing, showering, grabbing yardwork gear from my folks, happy hour with a girlfriend, yardwork tonight with my boyfriend. And, I have to pack for a weekend in Lake Meade, PA with eight other girlfriends. I'm in charge of bringing coffee (Tim Horton's) and tunes (my computer and speakers). My gals know me well!

Anyway, yesterday I read this blog from Robert the Radish who put together his Top Twenty Albums of All Time (For Real) list. I love these lists and the challenges posed by them. Whenever a list comes out, I peruse for common interests, surprise guests and, of course, el numero uno. Fun stuff. This one intrigued me because it had a bunch of factors taken into consideration: American market only, no live or "best ofs," sales, grammys, critical rating (whatever that means) and the subjective opinion of the listmaker himself. He includes some sort of complex math thing (Staying Power Value=SPV x something or other) which I skipped. I'm a musicologist not a mathmatician...... I remember at least 3 Zeppelin albums, and Stevie Wonder's "Songs from the Key of Life" was #1. And, there was "value" placed on the album at the end. Stevie's was upwards of $18.00. Complex stuff.

So, off I go into Judy's wild musical yonder. Since Robert the Radish didn't explain his choices, neither will I. The mystery continues (and I need to actually write some Diss stuff today and not spend it all on something fun. Ha ha). Feel free to send me your own or challenge my madness. My choices are based on similar criteria, but I'm throwing my own Staying Power for Judy Value (SPJV) into the equation. Why the hell not???

#20: "Songs from the Big Chair"--Tears for Fears
#19: "Back in Black"--AC/DC
#18: "CODA"--Led Zeppelin
#17: "Under the Pink"--Tori Amos
#16: "Jeff Buckley"--Grace
#15: "Dulcinea"--Toad the Wet Sprocket
#14: "Document"--R.E.M.
#13: "Yield"--Pearl Jam
#12: "Ray of Light"--Madonna
#11: "The Joshua Tree"--U2
#10: "Quadrophenia"--The Who
#9: "Master of Puppets"--Metallica
#8: "Amazing Grace"--Aretha Franklin
#7: "Automatic for the People"--R.E.M.
#6: "Jar of Flies"--Alice in Chains
#5: "Fully Completely"--Tragically Hip
#4: "What's Goin' On"--Marvin Gaye
#3: "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan"--Bob Dylan
#2: "Physical Graffiti"--Led Zeppelin
#1: "Ten"--Pearl Jam

I've shown you mine, now show me yours! Have at it!!!!

all things bright and foo-tiful

I'm not sure of the last time I went to an "arena" rock show. In the summer in the Buff, there are so many opportunities to see outdoor concerts--many for free--and, throughout the past year, I've been so busy doing tasks related to relocating, Dissertating, new job-adjusting, single-momming and girlfriending that spending my sparse greenbacks on a concert wasn't often in the cards.

I had forgotton all the fun rituals associated with arena rocks shows: I found something cool and cute to wear in case I bumped into Dave Grohl unexpectedly (or, in case I just threw myself on stage at the appropriate moment) and would need to charm him with my wares. I checked and re-checked my purse for tickets and directions to Rochester. I charged the Nano. I packed a cooler of beers. We listened to the Foo Fighters almost all the way to Ro-cha-cha before turning the music off completely to allow for concert mental "prep time." We scoured the streets for a meter and paid 35 cents to park (hell, yeah!). We loaded up the belly at some cute pub. We stood in line (male and female lines, BTW. I had to ditch my nail clippers, tweezers and nail file before entering the venue and the woman security guard felt me up better than my boyfriend had....). We wandered about the arena. We bought merch. We bought a beer. We found our seats which were already good because the venue smaller, but I immediately assessed that this was not a sell-out show so we worked our way past other guards and scored two seats stage left and VERY CLOSE. And then it all began.

The opening acts--Year Long Disaster and Supergrass--played well and briefly. Perfect.
Foos hit the stage at 8:35 and played straight til 10:50. Even more perfect.
They opened with "Let It Die," "The Pretender," "Times Like These" and "No Way Back" without taking a breath. Perfect.

Simply an amazing show. Better than many many others I've witnessed in 25 years (Prince, Pearl Jam, and INXS still hold the top 3, but the Foos have claimed #4. moe. is #5). Grohl is an amazing, funny, quirky and fiercely talented frontman backed by the tightest band I've heard in a long time. Taylor Hawkins is a GREAT drummer. Grohl engaged the crowd all night and consistently showed a side of ol' Nirvana that may have not allowed his full contributions in THAT band to translate past the beleaguered Cobain until now.

Amazing. The last song was "Best of You," performed with such clarity and strength that it gave me goosebumps and tingles in all the right places. For real.

*Sigh*

Rituals for the post-game: sleep late, brew coffee, blog about the night before, listen to the Foos as I write all afternoon while wearing my new Concert-T.

Not a bad way to start the week.

Hard Sun

So I've been purchasing concert tickets from Ticketmaster lately as some good shows are coming up...Foo Fighters on Monday, Dylan in August and Gordon Lightfoot in September (yes.....the GL. Everyone has their vice...). I didn't know that with every ticket purchased, the purchaser gets a free iTune. But now I've got a bunch.

I've been writing like a mad fiend. And I've accomplished a lot this week, and I've fallen in love with writing again. Which makes me happy.

So, my boyfriend came home a day early (late last night) from being out of town since Monday, and he took the day off of work today. Which makes me happy.

So, it's been raining all week (which is good for Judy's writing) and blazing sun today. No rain in the forecast. Which makes me happy.

So, I just purchased (free of charge, of course) "Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder (who I fell in love with a LONG time ago). I love this song for many reasons. Eddie, the background vocals, the bass line, the repetitive nature of the last two minutes, the build up of instrumentation that eventually takes over the vocals like a wire-y, fire-y pumpkin plant. Yummy. I also love when music syncs with my world, like placing the last puzzle piece into the picture. It all fits and the result makes the picture better.

So, I am going to be outside in the yard and pool all day. My body feels a little squishy from being in the chair all week, and I think writing 32 pages in 3 days allows me a little funtime. Hopefully you agree.

I have five free tunes left and hope to be inspired by various things today through which I will "purchase" appropriate music. These week has made me very happy.

Have a good one!

safe and sound

I like that song "Safe and Sound" by Sheryl Crow even though I'm not really a huge fan. She seems consistently inconsistent and sometimes her lyrics are a little clumsy and cheesy. But, what do I know. I do, however, like "Safe and Sound." She really lets it go there at the end of it (it's on right now).

The Nano is back after having been tucked into a place where it truly didn't belong. After all my mental wrangling yesterday--and instinctively knowing that it was in the house SOMEWHERE--I took a break from writing to NOT look for the Nano and do a little housecleaning (as opposed to housesearching) and very quickly found that little sucker. Oh, the world.

But at least I am still sticking with my #1 item from yesterday's post and should add one that says "I am very flawed." Hee hee.

Big writing day yesterday, and since it's raining, I'm sticking to the chair for the day with the Nano nestled close by my side. Happy Thursday!

My Nano's made for walkin'...away

Damn damn dammy damn. I don't like it when my instincts get proven wrong.....you?

Well, I drove back from camping (in Fillmore, NY on 400 acres. Beautiful place) on Sunday with the Nano plugged into my dashboard, power on, boyfriend asleep in the seat next to me (it was a long, fun-filled weekend and he loves naps). I pulled into my driveway backwards so we could more easily unload the weekend's gear. Around 8pm that evening, I moved my car into the street because it was blocking his and he leaves for work oh-so-early on weekdays. On Monday, I taught piano students and did this-and-that around the house and only drove my car once to go to the bank.

I cannot recall if I unplugged the Nano while unpacking the car, but instinctively, I know I did (because why wouldn't I?). I cannot recall if I locked my car after putting it in the street Sunday night but instinctively, I know I did (because why wouldn't I?). I cannot recall if the Nano was in the car on the way to/from the bank but instinctively, I know it wasn't (it is in the house with the recently unpacked camping gear because why wouldn't it be?).

These are caveats of this story that are making me cuckoo for Coco-puffs right now.....

1. I generally believe--still after all that's around us--that people are good.
2. In the past, I have realized that I had not locked my car probably due of my innate belief in item #1
3. In the past, I have lost things without any rhyme or reason (remember the "SexyBack" post a few months back? JT is still MIA)
4. My iPod (the oldie...had it forever) and iShuffle WERE stolen from my house by someone hired to help improve it within the first two weeks of moving in last August. Grrrrrr.......
5. I have searched all over this house and car since last night. Nano not here. For real.
6. I live in a "safe neighborhood" proven by my high taxes, great neighbors, good schools, blah blah blah and the fact that if someone even farts in the street, someone from the town's D.O.T shows up with an air purifier...

*sigh*

If this thing decides to find its way home, I will embrace it without a flinch.


*another sigh*

There are fetish theories that apply to all sorts of things but I'm thinking most about the Adorno essay, "On the Fetish Character in Music..." and how wrapped up I am in this Nano business right now. I'm thinking that I need to get over this as I am not working on the Diss at 10am because I am--over and over--trying to collect my memories in order to find this Nano. I may have to give it up and embrace that the world is not a perfect place (nor am I). I have a ton of time to write today through Friday and I think I must simply throw this scenario to the wind and let the dust settle as it always does.

Sorry little Nano. I'll do better next time.

In the gutters

Even though I have been in my house almost a year (end of August), the seasonal changes and meteorological bedlam that this region suffers through is always intriguing. As each season--let alone day, week, month--arrives, I watch my house withstand the elements and cave to their tenacity in various ways. This winter? half a fence came down. Last fall? a gazillion leaves from the oaks came down. Early spring? buckets and buckets of rain came down (fast) and stayed three inches deep in my side yard. Then it leaked into my basement. Ugh. This latter situation is now a common theme around here.....

Yesterday, we got about 30 minutes of balls-out rain. Sheets. Walls. Pounding rain. And once again, my side yard flooded. I have tricks now, but these are only in response to Mother Nature not anything that will curb her sinister humor toward The Buff. So, out came the pool pump to empty the window wells out to the street. I have even had that sucker sitting on the ground draining it! Several old towels and a ShopVac dried the basement floor. A de-humidifier is in my future. Another contractor will soon get some of my student loan money to fix it, I'm sure. Stimulus check, indeed. *Sigh*

Anyway, I also noticed that my gutters were not draining and instead overflowing. Badly. All of them. Around the house. Even in such a severe and potent storm as yesterday, these puppies threw in the towel quickly and started spilling. Hence, they are full of gunk which hasn't been cleaned out since I lived here, and probably a lot longer.

I slept in today (not sure why, exactly) and have the next three days completely empty to work on the Diss. Day and night. Son is out of town, boyfriend is out of town, Judy is in town. I may predict that this hunkering down that I will do until Friday afternoon COULD result in the completion of Chapter 2. FOR REAL. I had a HUGE day at the BECPL/Buffalo Historical Society on Friday and feel better even before I begin to write.

But, the weather calls for another blast of rain later on. Gutters beckon. If I get them done, maybe then I can resume "hermit" status and just fucking writing this thing.

I'm not afraid of heights, and my father gave an old ladder that will suit the job. At least I can throw on the Nano while working. The worst is the goop that comes out of the gutters. Yucky sucky.

Not sure I can put together a specifically "gutter"-based playlist. Maybe go for "rain" themes. Tons of those. "Rain Song," "No Rain," "Red Rain," "Stormy Weather," "Rainiy Days and Mondays," "Here Comes the Rain Again," on and on.

Off I go into the wild goopy yonder. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, I'll have lots of writing already in black, some in blue, and no red (check back post for "seeing red"). As long as I don't fall off the ladder, of course..... *smile*

Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with a......

microfilm machine?!?!?! Doesn't sound like I'm the best detective....

BUT, today I am playing detective, splitting my Friday between the Buffalo Historical Society and the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library (known now in my Diss footnotes as BECPL. Now you know, too). And I'm having lunch with my mom downtown at noon and meeting Raquel, who lives downtown, for happy hour. At 3pm. Even though I am up early (again....ugh), time today is going to fly fast. Better have my notebook poised and pencil sharpened.

"The Buffalo Gazette" went to print in 1810. 1810!!!!! And I must get my sweaty paws on some copies, even if they are from later on down the road, like 1825. There were only 1,500 friggin' people here then! Yesterday, I spent a painstaking afternoon TRYING to piece together musical life in the ol' frontier village of Buffalo up until 1860. Oy! There is information scattered EVERYWHERE and I seem to be the latest schmuck trying to cull all of this very, um, fascinating crap together. Why (you ask)? Good question.

My Diss intro chapter---the one where I make my case and throw everything but the kitchen sink (or perhaps the revolver or candlestick) behind my "theory"---came together quickly after a year of research, mayhem, madness and procrastination. Nothing works better for this girl than a deadline. Anyway, I know my Chapter 1 is clumsy and will get clumsier as my research gets more vivid and my writing gets done. That's what "revision" is for, yes?. But I also know that my theories and ideas are solid. I believe in this Dissertation, I really do. I haven't been silly enough to ask myself WHY I believe so much....that can of crazy will wait until I have a real job with benefits that include therapy. Ha ha!

ANYWAY, although my Diss focuses intently (or will one day) on music in The Buff during the Depression era, I know in my bones that I have to include info about how Buff got there. And, I'm really curious about it. So that's my Chapter 2. And as I write, I find lots of holes that need to be filled. Hence, "The Buffalo Gazette."

We're a feisty bunch, we Buffalonians. People today believe this and work it for all their chicken wing-filled might. And from what I've gathered so far, this ethos was here from the get-go. The opening of the Erie Canal in 1825 brought money, trade, notoriety, innovation and absolute pandemonium to this sleepy lil' village on the lake. While hangings, brothels and public indecency have made it into the historical tomes I've already uncovered, music making has not.

And this is where I come in. My education--while stellar--has given me little prep for serious archival research. I have many theories I can spew out about all kinds of musical, cultural, economic, political, sexual, etc. etc. matters. Ask and ye shall receive. But, I'm nervous today, a little bit, about poking around the past and getting lost in it. Getting overwhelmed or confused by it. Getting excited about it?

Coffee's done. I gotta water the garden and then pack up for the day. Parking downtown sucks, so best I get there early. 1810, here I come....without a clue.

the Hart of the matter

I've written about The Buff's "Thursday in the Park" concert series before when Yonder Mountain String Band performed. The concerts are free, the beer is Canadian (Labatts) and the crowd is perfect for people watching. Jakob Dylan was great a few weeks ago and Jimmie Vaughn had the house a' rockin last week. Tonight? Mickey Hart. I'm already wearing tie-dye.

My first Dead show was in 1989, and my "generation" of fans are referred to by Deadheads of the first wave as "Touch-heads" because our fandom crested when The Dead threw the video for "Touch of Grey" into high-rotation on MYV in 1987. These are the ways of the world. What could I have done about this apparently blatant smack in the face to Generation Baby Boom as they watched The Dead directly confront (and win over) Generation X? Even at 16, I gauged the situation, saw what the deal was, and wore a tie-dye dress for my high school graduation. Showtime!

That first Dead show for me was at Rich Stadium (now Ralph Wilson Stadium), home to the Buff Bills and any large event that needs 76,000 seats to pull off. The show was astounding to me: the people, the atmosphere, how great the tunes sounded (many of which I had just recently come to know), the whole deal. Here's where it gets interesting, to the point where when I tell this story, I get good laughs (and I'm frequently told my jokes are not funny but this is no joke).

A-hem. I am not a big drug user. Present me with a cooler full of Bud Lite and you have me forever. But growing up in the 'burbs of The Buff offered its share of whatever drug was out there. Mushrooms? Whenever friends took them, they immediately threw up. No thanks. Blow? I don't need any more stimulants in this lil' body, thank you. CRACK? No drug should be in that much demand if named after a body part that is always covered. Acid? I create alternate universes for myself pretty regularly anyway. Heroin? Um, no. And, any pot--even "good stuff" makes me dopey and sleepy. For real. So, beer is my drug of choice, and was on my first Dead show day.

NOW, my father is an Eagle Scout and his buddies volunteered at a food stand in the stadium for EVERY event for, like, a decade. The proceeds benefited Boy Scout troop stuff. He drove me and a bunch of slightly buzzed friends to the gate and dropped us like a swirly, giggly pancake into the parking lot. My dad had already figured out that I was generally a "good kid" who liked a cold, frosty beverage (or 10) every once in awhile, and even at 18, he didn't give me much flak about it. That day, I became the "beer runner" for my friends and I, and often made them giddy by returning to our spot in the Dead world that day with trays of beers and snacks from my dad.

Right before the second set, my friend Marc warbled, "we're out of munitions." So, off I went. I wasn't bombed by any means because the show was fun and I had sort of became the de facto leader of this crazy Brady Bunch of friends. This is the conversation that ensued with my pops:

Me: Hey Dad. Six beers stat. Any maybe some pizza.

Dad (with his frown/raised-eyebrow combo accompanied by laughter from my two Uncles, one Aunt, and several other adults I'd known since birth): Are you sure?

Me: Of course I'm sure. Why not?

Dad: (still frowning). Ok. Wait here.

Dad (coming back with gifts but still frowning): How's the show?

Me: Awesome! Are you going to check out a song or two?

Dad (still frowning): Maybe as we close up here at the end.

Me: Cool. Why are you frowning like that?

Dad: Oh, shit. I don't know. Our sales are down and no one can figure out why. The beer's going like mad, but the pizza's sitting here getting cold. It's a sell-out show, for chrissakes. (more frowning, people watching)

Me (in all serious): What's on the pizza?

Dad: Cheese and friggin' pepperoni, what the hell else would be on a friggin' pizza?

Me (pausing, thinking): Dad, the vast majority of this crowd wouldn't eat a pepperoni even if it had Acid on it. Pull the pepperoni off before you put it in the oven and get Uncle John to start yelling "Veggie Pizza, Veggie Pizza!!" and see what happens?!?!?!

Dad (dramatic pause): HOLY SHIT! (turns to my Unlce) John, start pulling that goddamn pepperoni off. Now. This isn't a goddamn football game for chrissakes. Holy shit!

Me: Yahoo!!!! Gotta go. I'll meet you here after for a ride home.

Dad: Thanks Jude! Do you want a concert shirt or something?

Me: Sure! Pick out a cool one for me. See ya!

And I traipsed my way back to the pack. Two hours later, I met my dad back the stand with several severely altered friends. The pizza had sold out, and Deadheads of all ages had been "digging" the veggie style. My family was in stitches. NOW, I was bombed, but happy in my drunkenness that my dad had a good night AND had bought me a killer concert-T with spiral dancing bears on it. Family effort, I guess.

That shirt is in my T-shirt drawer right now, and that's what I'm wearing to see Mickey Hart tonight. With a stick of pepperoni in my bag, of course.