Numbers, novels, and organ-playing nomads

Behold, many months have passed, and the moon hath waxed and grown thin, and summer hath come and departed*--and here much blogging!

In other words, I just realized how long it's been, and figured I should do something about it. Only trouble is, a lot's happened since I last blogged--guess I should start with the present, and work backwards.

Classes started today. Yes, I'm beginning my . . . how many is it now? . . . my thirteenth straight semester of college. My seventh straight year. However you want to look at it.

But--and this is a significant but--I'm only a part-time student this semester. I'm also living in Rivertown, which means a 10-minute drive to classes (instead of 45 minutes). Huge blessing--the commute was draining, and I'm not sure I could've kept it up another year. Of course, I now have an hour commute to my job . . . . it's 15 minutes from home, but in the opposite direction from Rivertown. It's a church job, though, so I only have to be there on Wednesdays and weekends--which means a long drive twice a week instead of 5 times. So I'm still semi-nomadic, but I'm expecting less stress.

Plus, I love the job. It's not perfect (what is?)--and there are a lot of things I wish I knew more about (conducting, for instance). But I'm learning a lot just being there--about music and people and churches and committees--and I know enough about music that I can teach them some things, and hopefully prepare them to carry on without me. (I'll graduate in a couple of years, and will need to move on. Probably to grad school. (Not even going to count those years right now . . . I don't want to think about it.))

Also, I've got a recital coming up--the projected date is February. Suite by a French Baroque guy named Clerembault; three Bach chorale preludes (including "Wachet auf"); and a couple of 20th-century pieces (also French). This means I actually have to practice, regularly and intensively; but it should be fun, too.

I kind of hate practicing. It's like writing: really hard to make yourself sit down and do it--but once you can play the piece (or once the scene starts working), there's nothing better in the world. The trouble is, there are lots of days when you can't play the piece, or your setting is hopelessly confusing, and you realize you have to ditch a good ten pages of your novel and come up with a completely new way to get your protagonist where she needs to be for the climax to work.

But it's worth it. So I'll be busy practicing, and revising, and maybe by February I'll have a readable novel to go along with my recital.

In other news, I just finished listening to David Byrne and Brian Eno's new album "Everything That Happens Will Happen Today." It's good stuff--and it's mostly responsible for this blog post, so I figured I should mention it. Plus, free streaming. Always a good.

Oh, and I'll try to post again before February. Lots of good summer stuff happened, and should be recorded for posterity. Or, you know, whoever actually reads this thing.


*At least, it's departed somewhere. Presumably. In these southern regions, it'll stick around another month at least.

nomadic misadventures

This is the story of my insane week. But to properly appreciate it, you need a little backstory . . .

Over Christmas break two different churches offered me organ jobs. One of them I refused (it didn't pay enough to be worth the time), and the other I tentatively accepted . . . but then it was unoffered (their organist changed her mind about retiring).

So when my employer at my receptionist job offered more hours, I took them. This put me at 19 hours/week, plus 13 hours of classes, plus a 1 1/2 hour commute every day. Which pretty much means I have no life, because whenever I'm not at work, in class, or driving to one of the above, I'm practicing.

Anyway, this Wednesday I woke up feeling awful, and ended up skipping work and my first class. After a little extra sleep I decided I could make it to my other two classes, so I braved the finally-seasonable weather (nasty rain with a little ice mixed in), and drove to class.

Some things are better unbraved.

I ended up with a flat tire and a bent wheel. And I missed my class.

Then I got an email informing me that my scholarship was in danger--because I had failed to fulfill a requirement that no one had told me about. I did make it to my last class of the day; but since this is the class where the professor doesn't care if you skip, and routinely leaves the classroom after 5 minutes to get coffee, it was kind of a waste of time.

I made it home without further incident . . . finished my homework . . . brushed my teeth . . .

. . . and realized I had a random wisdom tooth coming in.

Yeah, not a happy day. Thursday, though, I got a call from the church that had unoffered me the job. Apparently their organist changed her mind (again!), and is actually retiring. So I agreed to play a week from Sunday, and then sit down and discuss things with them. Then the other church called, wanting to talk to me about my concerns and see if we could negotiate a salary.

Only trouble is, I don't have time to take either job now, because of the aforementioned crazy schedule. (When I was considering it back during break, I thought I'd be working maybe 10 hours/week.) I could drop a class, but that would make me a part-time student, and my scholarship would disappear. Permanently. To keep the scholarship, though, I have to join an ensemble--which I also don't have time to do, because of the same crazy schedule.

So the long weekend? Very much my friend right now. And I'm really hoping one of the organ jobs works out, because dropping a class and making more money is looking like the best of my possible worlds. Might even let me move to Rivertown, and end my days as a nomad . . . which would simplify my life exponentially.

Hugs to all my faithful readers . . . I miss you. Lots.