Four beat pattern

My schola friend Teresa took her conducting final this semester. She conducted a Palastrina Mass for us and it was lovely. We were all so proud of her. I think she will be a really great conductor. She wants to teach middle school choir. This makes me thing she is a very brave woman. Anyway, she let me take pictures of her hands while she conducted for my art project. I did one page for each beat in a four beat conducting pattern. I was pretty pleased with how they turned out. My teacher spent most of the semester telling me not to be so careful so I was proud that I got these done in about ten minutes a page.
Down Beat


Beat Two

Beat Three Beat Four or the Up Beat

Hands up

I'm done! Schools out till the new year! After a careful inventory check, I have determined that I survived pretty well. I still have all my limbs and senses and so on. My shoulders and back protest that back packs are an instrument of torture and my girls club probably feels a bit neglected but beyond that I think I'm okay.

So, my last project for my drawing class was to pick an object and draw it fifty times. The idea was to get us to stretch and scramble for new ways to present an object. I don't think it worked for me cause I chose an object with SO many variations that I didn't ever have to think very hard to come up with more composition ideas. I chose to draw hands. Several people in my class looked at my like I was crazy when I told them. That kind of made me feel all egotistical and like I was bold and talented. Ah, self deception! Anyway, some of them really turned out nice so I thought I'd post a few here over the break.

Also, Jessie bought me an easel! I was drawing at her house one day and the next day when I walked in she asked me if I could stop by the art supply store tomorrow and take a look at the easel she had on hold there for me. Then she handed me a check. I was a little bit speechless. I ended up buying a different one than the one she picked out but it was just a really odd feeling. I would never buy myself something like that. I walked out of the store with this thing under my arm and I then I realized I was walking out of an art store with an easel that was now mine and that I had an easel and ... well... words fail.... It's the little things...
So, obviously, the hand above is the front of Jessie's thank you note. She has a little paper weight that looks something like that and she let me draw it.

Yesterday was the last Chant Mass of the year until January.
Now I have to be really creative to find ways to sing with people every week.
Dana took me to see the Big Bing Theory. That was pretty cool. Once again, I love a cappella music! I want to do something like that SO bad. They really own the songs they do, even songs that have been done a thousand times. They are just having fun up there preforming together. That's what I really miss; being in a group where you will probably make a fool of yourself but you're all in it together and you're mostly just having fun. It's something you get in theater but not so often in a choir situation. It makes me miss CYT and Christmas Quartets especially.

Fire of Hope is our only warmth

Have I mentioned that Advent is absolutely my favorite part of the Church year? I think I say that about Holy Week too. But it's not Holy Week now, it's Advent. Or it will be tomorrow. We can't listen to Christmas music in my house until the first Sunday of Advent. I've been waiting FOREVER and I really NEED to sing Christmas carols now. So I was on project playlist looking for nice Christmas music to put up here and I found one of my favorite obscure Advent songs of all time. I can't believe that had it! I wanted an a cappella recording of Veni Emanuel but of course they didn't have that. But they did have Night of Silence. Not a very well preformed version but I LOVE this song SO much that I don't really care. Christmas is not complete unless we sing it. I'm so glad they have guitar in this version. That's important for me cause my dad plays it. Anyway, that made me happy. I should do homework now. I'm not out of school till most of Advent is over but I will make the most of it.

Zita is not the patroness of poetry

That would be really convenient. I have always wanted, very badly, to be into poetry or, even better, to be able to write poetry. I have to write a narrative poem for English Lit and hear I am doing anything but. I guess I've been told too many times that my stories need to be longer and I have lost the ability to say much in few words. Blah. So I sat down to do it and ended up writeing something like a story. I don't know how I'm going to get it down to poetry format and a decent length that wont make my classmates hate me when I have to read it aloud.

I am taking violin lessons this Winter! *dance* I haven't met the teacher they have there yet. They hide her office away under some stairs in a dark corner. It took me forever to find it. Then she wasn't there. Bother. I am going to take voice lessons too but I have to take a few prerequisite classes first. The voice lessons are going to be more important. I am ten times more a singer than a violinist but the violin is still so special to me that I am more excited about that.

So the violin lessons have been bouncing around in my head and the art project I'm doing right now (which you will probably get tired of seeing over Christmas break, so I won't go into detail yet) involves me drawing my violin. So I sat down to write a narrative poem. I wanted to write about something I had actually experienced so it had to be my story and the first thing that came to mind was the violin. Go figure. Do they call that 'stream of consciousness' writing where you just write whatever comes to your mind at the moment. When I do it, it makes for very short, choppy sentences and odd phrases that only make sense to me. A lot like what I do on this blog most of the time. I couldn't write a poem till I know the story I was going to tell so I wrote down what I remember feeling and thinking at two moments long long ago. Only time a sleep will tell if I can make it into a poem.

~*~

"What do you want to play" my mother asked me. Maybe if I'm quiet and don't look up, she will not ask again or expect an answer. Everyone plays an instrument. Someday I would too. But what? Names bounced around in my head, each hopping to be the one that made it into my mouth. Something different, something new. Not the Piano or the Guitar. Dad and Dana played those. But what sound did these other names make. Bassoon? Oboe, Clarinet? That thing that's like a guitar only round. What's that called? Cello, Violin? No, not the violin; every one plays that. I wonder what they sound like. What wonderful sound comes out of a bassoon? The Clarinet has a lovely sounding name but when you strum or pound or blow across it, what music does it make? None of these are safe. This one will be mine. Name... name... "What do you want to play?" My mother asks again. She doesn't know what anxiety she is causing. Panic. Name... name... a different name. "Banjo." I proclaim. My mother blinks. What is a banjo? I think I knew once but the image has flown. I think it has strings. Mother gets an encyclopedia and we look it up. She reads to me about it and I look at the picture. It's that thing that looks like a guitar only round. Darn. That's not mine. I want her to stop. Go away and let me go back to the game I was playing. Forget that I said anything. I'm too little to play the banjo or anything anyway. But she doesn't. She tells dad and our friends. They think it's interesting and always look so surprised. Why can't they forget? They forget all sorts of other things. Like how I'd like a doll for Christmas, and how I don't like cake or chocolate. I have to be introduced to every adult they know who plays the banjo. I have to look interested when they talk to me about it. I have to think of something to say.

Dana has piano lessons down town in a room with lots of electric keyboards and headphones. Dad and I go with her. I'm too little to play the piano. Dana doesn't like to. I wish I could wear the headphones and play so no one could hear but me. Dad is going to get some guitar strings at the music store. We walk together between the tall buildings, in and out of the square patches of sunlight. our shadows stretch in front of us. The music store is filled with warm tingling air. There are instruments everywhere. "Here is a banjo." Dad says. He shows me how to hold it and some chords to play when you are tuning. Dad can play anything. The banjo holds no interest for me. Why don't they forget? I know what most of the instruments are but they hold new magic when they are right there; real and solid. There is a violin on a special stand on a table. It is so quiet there, all by itself. We stare at each other, the violin and I. Violin is graceful and small but I am smaller. The polished wood seems to glow and the gentle swell and curves fill my vision. Someone in the shop is telling me to try it. Try what? They hand me the bow. A strange tool. It feels awkward in my little fist. You are supposed to draw it across the string. I don't want to pick up the instrument itself. It's too big for me. I might drop it. I see the beautiful wooden pieces scattered across the floor. The violin will have to stay where it is. I twist my arm around to draw the bow. Slowly, carefully, gently. Something in me is trembling and the world seems to have fallen completely silent. I can feel how very busy we are when we are trying to hold still. The brightest thing in the room is that wooden instrument. The pale horse hair makes contact with the silvery string. Clumsily, for all my shyness. The music is an awkward scrunchy sound. The shop keeper and dad, who have just appeared again, laugh, not unkindly. I get all jittery and try not to knock anything over as I replace the bow. I smile and laugh too. What a silly noise. Dad pays for his guitar strings and we leave. I look back. There is the violin. It still rings in my ears. I know it was not a nice sound, but it rang. Everything vibrated and tingled. The sound is bigger than me but I made it. I want to do it again.

Jessie Update

Here is the picture Aunt Mary requested. This is the lovely lady Jessie
Jessie has bronchitis so she is not looking her best. She protested and yelled to her daughter for help but it was of no avail, we took the picture anyway.Like I said, she is sick right now. So your prayers are needed. For her speedy recover or peaceful death. God's will. Mean while she has found an edition of the Catholic Catechism that would be perfect to get for her family members for Christmas. If only it wasn't so expensive.... Where does my mother buy raisins?

Tap

One of the things I'm liking about going to school is the library. It's not a very big library, not like the Eastern library or the Gonzaga library but it has a a set of the complete works of Palastrina which is very surprising. The best part for me is that it has a collection of obscure musicals. It's a small colection but they have some of my favorites and some I'd never seen. So weekends have taken on a whole new meaning too. Friday means I check out a musical to watch on Saturday night.
There was this era of movie musicals that might be the golden era. When Judy Garland and Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers and Gene Kelly and all those classic stars were singing and tapping and doing both at the same time. There are some real duds from that era too. We watched some that dragged so much in the second act and were so depressing that we didn't finish them. But we have found some real gems too.

This is all Heidi's fault, by the way. She posted this amazing video of Gene Kelly tap dancing in roller skates (yes. I'm serious) and I watched it one Friday morning before I went to school. It totally made my day. I don't know why watching people tap dance makes me happy but it does. David likes it too. On my way home I looked at the DVD's in the library and low and behold, the musical from which the song was taken was sitting on the shelf.

It is called It's Always Fair Weather and it was really fun. These three guys were friends during WWII and they swear (to their favorite bar tender) that in ten years they will return from their various life paths and still be as close friends as ever. So they don't see each other for ten years and when they get back to their old favorite pub they find out that they all changed into exactly the sort of people who can't stand each other. The plot doesn't get much more interesting than that, they all kind of reflect on who they wanted to be when they met again and why they didn't become those people. They are set up to appear together on a TV show. None of them know they are going to be on the show together and by show time they have decided that they hate each other, or maybe just themselves. There were a whole bunch of great dance numbers and lots of silliness and a musical fight scene. I love fight scenes in musicals cause they're choreographed like dances and they usually involve lots of furniture smashing. It ended happily which is important for me; I like movies that are uplifting. The roller skate number was the highlight but the rest of it was well worth watching
too.

The other movie I really enjoyed was Three Little Words staring Fred Astair and Red Skelton. It was about a career of a song writing team and their friendship. I love musicals about friendship. Astair's character wants to be a magician but that seems to be the one corner of show business he can't get into with any success. Skelton's character likes baseball. He's just funny. They spend a lot of the movies harassing each other about their childish hobbies. They harass each other about a lot of things actually. But they mean a lot more to each other then they will admit. Lots of songs, lots of dance (it's Fred Astair after all) lots of comedy (Red Selton is hilarious). Both of these are really simple in story and message there are not a lot of show real brilliance as far as music goes; they are not masterpieces, but on a weekend when you just need to relax they were perfect.
See also Summer Stock.