Despite having heard some advice to the contrary, I enjoy singing with headphones on. More accurately, I tend to sing with one earbud in, one earbud out. I think it's pretty effective as an accompaniment, especially for songs I have no hope of ever being able to play on the piano.
During Hollywood Week on this season of American Idol I caught a glimpse of Mary Powers doing the same thing in rehearsal -- complete with holding the iPod like a microphone -- and I thought, hey, it's catching on! So naturally I was pretty impressed when I watched a video about the audition process for Disney's American Idol Experience (I'll be in Disney World next week and have half a mind to check it out) and saw they'd done us one better. They rigged iPods to display the lyrics while the song is playing, kind of like your own personal karaoke. This is what they give you for rehearsal if you make it through to the performance rounds.
Maybe it follows naturally, maybe it doesn't, but my next question was, I wonder what this looks like when I do it? Also knowing recording yourself is an effective practice tool, I whipped out my video camera, pressed the YouTube button, and ran through an entire song.
It was...awful. I watched the entire thing to see if it got better toward the middle (or end), but it just stayed dreadful. I felt like I was watching one of the American Idol auditions where the judges ask, "has anyone actually ever heard you sing before today?"
Ouch. So that left me wondering, is it the headphones thing? I feel like I can hear myself sing. Or is it that at a certain age, you just can't just decide you want to start singing? Well, really? 20 is too old? What if I should have listened to my fellow instrumental musicians when they said "there's a reason we play instruments and don't sing?" What about the people who have complimented me in the past, the juries who have given me passing grades? Does this really need to be an existential crisis, or can I just note the flaws and work them out?
The thing is, this is something find really, really fun. So fun that if I had my druthers I'd put on my carefree and fun-loving face and audition for the Idol Experience while we're in Disney. And who knows, that might end up being the moral of the story: just because you have a discouraging experience doesn't mean you need to give up entirely. And I probably will keep on going like I've been forever, though not without a lot of harumphing along the way. After all, I eventually got over what was arguably my most frustrating performance moment ever: blowing an audition by messing up a scale. I missed the cut by one slot, but still scored at the top of every other category (sightreading and a prepared piece, as I remember). Ugh.
The thing is, no matter what the circumstances I expect all this to come naturally. If it doesn't, I'm just "bad at it." But of course, I'm sure my manuscript has shaky passages I'll need to rework. I play bad notes on the piano all the time. I sat through some brutal critiques on the path to my BFA in Studio Art. It all requires work, even when that work involves watching a torturous video that's nothing like what I saw from my own point of view.
Maybe I just need to spend more time walking around the house with one earbud in my ear.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Good Things Today:
Every morning begins with Zeke's coffee for me.
One way you and your partner can be mutually inspiring is for one of you to be productive (and joyful about it). My daily piano playing has begun to rub off on Doug, who has a whole repertoire of songs he's learned by ear and memorized. He can't read music, but he can play Ben Folds Five's Brick now just from watching me practice. Anyone want to play Name That Song for this video?
Got this in the mail on Friday. After reviewing my favorite songs and seeing that they're all more or less right in my range, I'm way excited to try singing them.
A CLEAN DESK has made me so much more productive at the office, and I'm ready to start feeling those effects at home, too. My desk hasn't looked like this in a long, long, time -- I feel like I've opened up a whole new world for myself!
One way you and your partner can be mutually inspiring is for one of you to be productive (and joyful about it). My daily piano playing has begun to rub off on Doug, who has a whole repertoire of songs he's learned by ear and memorized. He can't read music, but he can play Ben Folds Five's Brick now just from watching me practice. Anyone want to play Name That Song for this video?
Got this in the mail on Friday. After reviewing my favorite songs and seeing that they're all more or less right in my range, I'm way excited to try singing them.
A CLEAN DESK has made me so much more productive at the office, and I'm ready to start feeling those effects at home, too. My desk hasn't looked like this in a long, long, time -- I feel like I've opened up a whole new world for myself!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Catharsis
A few years ago, I knew someone who was Chinese and played the violin. She was really passionate about music – playing, sharing with others, everything – and I knew this because it was so clear in her eyes every time I saw her. When someone close to her died, she stopped playing for a little while. This she explained, was because her culture dictates that one shouldn’t engage in anything cathartic during a period of grieving.
I remembered this at an odd time, just sitting on the bus on the way to work today. It gave me pause because throughout my life, I’ve used music as a cathartic vehicle that way: an escape from grief and struggle. I always thought it was a good thing, a way to stay grounded, and I think it’s fascinating to consider a cultural viewpoint completely opposite.
I remembered this at an odd time, just sitting on the bus on the way to work today. It gave me pause because throughout my life, I’ve used music as a cathartic vehicle that way: an escape from grief and struggle. I always thought it was a good thing, a way to stay grounded, and I think it’s fascinating to consider a cultural viewpoint completely opposite.
If anyone else out there has used art – be it performance, visual, craft, or anything else – as a sort of cathartic outlet during a difficult time, I’d like to know your thoughts on this. Does it allow us to escape, experience a lesser magnitude of grief? Is this a bad thing? Cultural traditions surrounding grief and loss are really interesting to me – for example, the Jewish tradition of covering all the mirrors in a house where someone has died so mourners needn’t be self-conscious about showing their feelings. Again, this seems to encourage a sentiment of embracing emotion, letting it carry you for a time, and letting it go.
For me, I’ve often said music is the one thing that carried me safely through some really rough (read: angsty) patches in my life. I don’t want to think about how I would have felt without it. I don’t view that as escapism, I view it as self-medication in the best way, like exercising to increase your endorphins. I view it as taking care of myself. But I can also see how someone might argue it’s an act of running away from the full impact of my emotions.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Perfectionism -- and Letting Go of It
As artists (and I use the term generally here), we often want to create something great. Even from a young age, when our lives are filled with praise for our talents, expectation tends to accompany it: "you're such a good actor, let me know when your first big movie is coming out," "invite me to all your gallery openings in New York," "you'll autograph a copy of your first CD for me, right?"
These fantasies are a lot of fun as a kid, imagining our great successes later in life. And indeed, it's this aspiration to greatness that keeps us going through good times and bad. I attribute a lot of my successes to being born and bred a perfectionist, and a stubborn one at that.
At the same time, when we get to art school we spend a lot of time debating whether there's anything new under the sun. Are we constrained or liberated by the fact that "new ideas" really don't exist anymore?
And when I find myself feeling no more than average, when I start mourning the fact that I'm not a good friend, that I'm bad at my job, that I'll never be a great writer, and/or I haven't ever done anything truly commendable (none of which are true), I start to wonder: when should I start focusing my energy on tempering this craziness rather than praising it? I'm always wondering, will letting some of my self-criticism and perfectionism go make me complacent? Will it lower my aptitude? Will it hold me back from doing great things?
The truth is, I don't think so. As someone who often thinks if the bar isn't out of reach it's not set high enough, I've been wondering lately if asking too much of oneself can be constraining in its own right. For example, musicians are trained to relax our bodies completely. This is the only way for our fingers to conquer the fastest notes, the only way for our voices to acquire a pleasing tone. How often have we seen a great performance and heard someone say "she makes it look so easy?" In fact, musicians can suffer a whole range of serious injuries as a result of poor technique, keeping tension in wrists and vocal cords.
More and more, I feel like this training can be applied to everything we do in life: only when we are entirely at ease and sure of ourselves, only when we release our tension and stop anticipating difficult passages with trepidation in our hearts, can we sail right on through the rough patches and come out on the other side unscathed and wickedly impressed with ourselves. In this model, worry and perfectionism don't have a place. Sure, sometimes we have to concentrate a little harder to make sure things turn out the way we want them, but unrealistic expectations don't really get us anywhere. It's all just work, and eventually it all comes together into something great anyway -- isn't that why we do it in the first place?
These fantasies are a lot of fun as a kid, imagining our great successes later in life. And indeed, it's this aspiration to greatness that keeps us going through good times and bad. I attribute a lot of my successes to being born and bred a perfectionist, and a stubborn one at that.
At the same time, when we get to art school we spend a lot of time debating whether there's anything new under the sun. Are we constrained or liberated by the fact that "new ideas" really don't exist anymore?
And when I find myself feeling no more than average, when I start mourning the fact that I'm not a good friend, that I'm bad at my job, that I'll never be a great writer, and/or I haven't ever done anything truly commendable (none of which are true), I start to wonder: when should I start focusing my energy on tempering this craziness rather than praising it? I'm always wondering, will letting some of my self-criticism and perfectionism go make me complacent? Will it lower my aptitude? Will it hold me back from doing great things?
The truth is, I don't think so. As someone who often thinks if the bar isn't out of reach it's not set high enough, I've been wondering lately if asking too much of oneself can be constraining in its own right. For example, musicians are trained to relax our bodies completely. This is the only way for our fingers to conquer the fastest notes, the only way for our voices to acquire a pleasing tone. How often have we seen a great performance and heard someone say "she makes it look so easy?" In fact, musicians can suffer a whole range of serious injuries as a result of poor technique, keeping tension in wrists and vocal cords.
More and more, I feel like this training can be applied to everything we do in life: only when we are entirely at ease and sure of ourselves, only when we release our tension and stop anticipating difficult passages with trepidation in our hearts, can we sail right on through the rough patches and come out on the other side unscathed and wickedly impressed with ourselves. In this model, worry and perfectionism don't have a place. Sure, sometimes we have to concentrate a little harder to make sure things turn out the way we want them, but unrealistic expectations don't really get us anywhere. It's all just work, and eventually it all comes together into something great anyway -- isn't that why we do it in the first place?
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Inspiration #28: Sticking With Something
Sometimes sticking with something is much harder than it sounds. I have a lot of trouble sticking with things, and that can put me in a rut. But I stuck with these 28 days of blog posts, and look! I have a lot of new material to expand on in future months. Hopefully you've enjoyed this little window into my life as well.
Maybe entirely coincidentally, I've managed to stick with a few other things lately, too. I've played the piano every single day for the past nine days (if I get to 21 it's a bona fide habit, right?). I've spent the past week being pretty dedicated to sorting through, cleaning out, and generally minimizing stuff around the house. This may not sound like much, but I often have a lot of trouble moving past the "I should really..." stage, where I spend a day or two on something and never pick it up again. When I manage to keep up with a pursuit long enough to see the positive results of my efforts, it opens my eyes to a whole new world. I'm discovering that I actually can play the piano. I filled the trunk of my car with stuff to take to the thrift store today, and my living space is beginning to look and feel different (better). I am creating spaces where I feel good about living and working.
Last but not least, four months after National Novel Writing Month began, I'm still writing a novel. My attention span, combined with my sometimes-crippling perfectionism, make personal investment kind of hard to get out of me sometimes. But somehow I've kept it going, and I'm connecting the pathways in my brain that know sustained effort can bring really gratifying results.
Hopefully this trend will continue and some months from now I'll be sending my manuscript away in the mail, playing the piano and singing at the same time (far harder than it looks!), and living in a comfortable and uncluttered house. Wouldn't that be nice?
Maybe entirely coincidentally, I've managed to stick with a few other things lately, too. I've played the piano every single day for the past nine days (if I get to 21 it's a bona fide habit, right?). I've spent the past week being pretty dedicated to sorting through, cleaning out, and generally minimizing stuff around the house. This may not sound like much, but I often have a lot of trouble moving past the "I should really..." stage, where I spend a day or two on something and never pick it up again. When I manage to keep up with a pursuit long enough to see the positive results of my efforts, it opens my eyes to a whole new world. I'm discovering that I actually can play the piano. I filled the trunk of my car with stuff to take to the thrift store today, and my living space is beginning to look and feel different (better). I am creating spaces where I feel good about living and working.
Last but not least, four months after National Novel Writing Month began, I'm still writing a novel. My attention span, combined with my sometimes-crippling perfectionism, make personal investment kind of hard to get out of me sometimes. But somehow I've kept it going, and I'm connecting the pathways in my brain that know sustained effort can bring really gratifying results.
Hopefully this trend will continue and some months from now I'll be sending my manuscript away in the mail, playing the piano and singing at the same time (far harder than it looks!), and living in a comfortable and uncluttered house. Wouldn't that be nice?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Inspiration #27: Reading Other People's Writing
No matter what kind of artist you are, it's important to look at other people's work. This is what our college professors tell us, right? "You can't create art in a vacuum." I guess it's true, since I feel absolutely great when I spend time in a moving photography exhibit, listen to someone sing a song, or read a particularly engaging book. It all gives my mind something to chew on.
Today I finally made the four-block trek to pay my $6 library fine so I could once again request inter-library loans (a favorite pastime of mine). While I was there I visited the fiction section and ran my fingers over the spines, pulling out books that caught my eye. I made a point of visiting the young adult section, since I'm currently writing a novel with a teenage protagonist and could use a little reference material. A thick novel called Absolute Brightness won me over with the flamboyant stripes on its jacket and mentioning of Spring Awakening on the back.
First let me tell you: I read the entire 472 pages after returning home from lunch today. When I began the book I found the prose a little sparse, but I kept reading. I started taking issue with the way gays and "theater geeks" were being portrayed, but I kept reading so I could at least write a proper review at the end.
But as the plot unfolded, things changed for the protagonist and, consequently, for me. I cried a bunch toward the middle of the book. I read the author's bio and found out he's actually an LGBT activist. Then I realized I'd been seeing through his main character's eyes the whole time -- and no, I don't just mean it was written in first person. I only put on my writer's hat for a short moment while I wondered how he was going to get us on her side when she was so snarky at the outset. The rest of the time, I was experiencing everything as she was, prejudices and all.
While I do see how one might find the book a bit preachy and the message too obvious, that might be part of the "young adult" in young adult fiction. However, I'm very glad to have read it even just for the study of a young person who goes from self-centered and judgmental to compassionate and grounded. That's exactly what I'm trying to do with my main character, and it's just invaluable to experience how other authors treat that transformation.
I will say, though, that much reading can really make a person's eyes feel puffy!
Today I finally made the four-block trek to pay my $6 library fine so I could once again request inter-library loans (a favorite pastime of mine). While I was there I visited the fiction section and ran my fingers over the spines, pulling out books that caught my eye. I made a point of visiting the young adult section, since I'm currently writing a novel with a teenage protagonist and could use a little reference material. A thick novel called Absolute Brightness won me over with the flamboyant stripes on its jacket and mentioning of Spring Awakening on the back.
First let me tell you: I read the entire 472 pages after returning home from lunch today. When I began the book I found the prose a little sparse, but I kept reading. I started taking issue with the way gays and "theater geeks" were being portrayed, but I kept reading so I could at least write a proper review at the end.
But as the plot unfolded, things changed for the protagonist and, consequently, for me. I cried a bunch toward the middle of the book. I read the author's bio and found out he's actually an LGBT activist. Then I realized I'd been seeing through his main character's eyes the whole time -- and no, I don't just mean it was written in first person. I only put on my writer's hat for a short moment while I wondered how he was going to get us on her side when she was so snarky at the outset. The rest of the time, I was experiencing everything as she was, prejudices and all.
While I do see how one might find the book a bit preachy and the message too obvious, that might be part of the "young adult" in young adult fiction. However, I'm very glad to have read it even just for the study of a young person who goes from self-centered and judgmental to compassionate and grounded. That's exactly what I'm trying to do with my main character, and it's just invaluable to experience how other authors treat that transformation.
I will say, though, that much reading can really make a person's eyes feel puffy!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Inspiration #26: Not Setting an Alarm
Most of the time I'd list setting an alarm and waking up early on a Saturday to write as an inspiration. However, there's a certain point you reach after working too many long days, inexplicably finding yourself in front of the piano at 11:45 p.m. several nights in a row, and finally ending your Friday evening fast asleep on your friends' couch, that your body just needs to rest. So instead of pushing myself even further, as I generally want to do, I'm going to take just one day to sleep in and let myself recover from the week. Wish me luck!
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