SassyBlonde

Yeah, yeah. I know I said I wouldn't be back 'til March, but I lied. Basically, as I said in my last post, I'm tired of internalizing and there are a lot of things I have on my mind.

Such as, for instance, Valentine's Day.

Now there's a huge caveat before I begin: I have a lot of reasons to hate Valentine's Day myself this year, but I've always been of a more philosophical bent about it and it's still a sweet holiday to me for a lot of reasons too.

I spent a huge portion of today listening to everybody and their dog complaining about Valentine's Day. People who think it sucks because it's designed to make single people feel horrible about being single. People who think it's a crock of shit designed to sell chocolates and flowers. People who think it's shitty to have a specific day where you have to share your feelings. People who are shitty about having to do things for someone on that day to show them they love them. To all of those people, I would now like to share a rebuttal and an example to follow.

Let's start with the holiday itself: Valentine's Day is, at its most basic, a day to show your most special someone or someones how you feel about them. A license to do all of the cheesy things that, during the course of the rest of the year, you'd never dream of doing because they're too cheesy, too, silly, too extravagant, too sappy. It's a chance to go over and beyond the call of normal duty in an effort to show some small measure of one of the most powerful emotions we humans can experience, love. At the very least, it's an excuse to tell someone how you really feel without being called silly, stupid, or overly emotional or having them think you're a freak for the depth of your emotion.

More than any other complaint this year, I'm extremely bothered by everyone I heard picking up that blase pseudo-argument that you shouldn't need a specific day on which to show your feelings, or shouldn't be forced to show them on a specific day.

Why not?

In a culture where it's far more common than not for people to take their spouses, life partners, and love ones for granted, what's so wrong with that? In my experience, the very people who make this argument are the ones who do exactly that for the rest of the year: undervalue and pass over the relationship. It makes me a little sick. If you love someone, I don't understand how it's possible to feel "forced" to show your affection for them. More than that, if you love someone, I would think it would make you happy to have one more chance to show them in any way you could. In EVERY way you could. You never know when that person could be hit by a bus, or whether or not that one expression could eventually make the difference between delighted and divorced. It's the expression of the feeling that matters, stupid.

Case in point: one of my co-workers, one of the few people I know who I can say honestly and without any sort of reservation is happily married, made plans with his wife to do something fun for he holiday: each of them would get something for the other that they had to wear, no matter how absurd, for their alone time on Valentine's night. It was one of the sweetest things I'd ever seen, to hear him talk about it today, not because he relished making her wear something skimpy and sexy (though he did, but that's also not unusual for her) but because he was so excited to see the look on her face when she saw him wearing what she picked out for him. His smile was sweet, and open, and excited when he talked about seeing her smile. He didn't care about whether she even wore what he'd bought-- the joy for him was making her happy.

You don't have to go out and buy extravagant gifts to do it. A simple hand-made gift would suffice, one that comes from thought and feeling and the intimate knowledge of what makes that person happy. That's what matters, in the end, right? The fact that you WANT to make that person happy? And I don't know what's worse, the fact that in most cases the people who bitch about it don't follow through on the rest of the days of the year or that most of them seem not to care when their significant someone chooses to do so for them (or that their opinion changes when they receive the gift that that someone picked out for them.) I don't mean to sound shrill, but I guess that I'm saying is that rather than complaining about the day, you should be relishing the opportunity to show that person in a real way how much they mean to you. I'm tired of the cynicism about it, the sarcasm, the attitude that they're better than a simple expression that can mean so much to that other person. Love isn't that complicated.

So there's the crux of the issue: if you're more concerned about being put-out by having to do it than by the results of doing so, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut and find something better to do. Like find a better way of showing your person what they mean to you and how thankful you are for their love and attention, because you'll never be sorry for really trying to show them. I guarantee you'll be sorry someday if you don't.

(Above Anti-Valentine's Poppet, who now resides on my office shelf, by artist Lisa Snellings. Get your own little friend over at Poppet Planet.)

Posted by Sassy at 12:01 AM under Jolly Holidays, | Permalink | Comments (1)

So here's the thing:

I've missed you guys.

I've had some pretty heavy things going on in my life this year, things which basically have changed the face of my entire existence in one way or another. And I haven't really felt comfortable talking about that here, in public, for anyone and everyone to read. More importantly, there are very good reasons why I can't and shouldn't.

And frankly, it's killing me.

Because if you're still reading this, then I've probably known you, or had you as a reader, for long enough that you're probably wondering what the hell happened to me.

Because if you're still reading this, you're probably one of the people whose opinions and love I value enough that I'm going to need your help in the next year.

Because frankly, I need an outlet more in-depth than Twitter and less personal than Facebook.

So here's the other thing:

On March 1st, this blog is getting a makeover. I'll be moving it to a new server, shaking up the layout a little, and converting it to a new CMS, though the site address won't change. The ranting and raving and silliness will stay the same, only there will be some things that I don't want to share with everybody, some things that I may need to share and say, but only within certain circles. I'm tired of keeping it all pent up and I've done that for long enough.

If you're still reading this blog, and you're been a loyal reader or friend or even a long-time lurker, email me at (sassy{at}sassyblonde{dot}net) with the title of this post in the subject line or comment on this post and request an access key. I'd love to have you in the circle.

Til then, I'll be cleaning house and doing some renovation, and I'll see you on March 1st.

UPDATE: So, snow and circumstances being what they've been around here, I'm going to have to ask you guys to wait around a little longer, which actually ends up being appropriate for a lot of reasons. I've gotten all your emails and comments, and if you can hang tight for a few more weeks, I'll have the next phase ready on April 1st.

Posted by Sassy at 10:55 PM under An Apple For The Teacher, And The Band Played On, Anger Management, Blatherings, Blogosphere, BookWorm, But Mom, Everybody's Doing It, Chatty Sassy, Conversations With The Black Dog, Copycat, Crafty Sassy, DC's Favorite Contact Sport, Diary of a Diabetic, Everyday Ho-Hum, Everything's Relative, Fashionista, Friday YouTube RoundUp, Funky Finds, In The News, Jolly Holidays, Knitty Gritty, Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Lyric of The Day, Magnetic Monday Poetry, Moving On, On Screen, Pets Files, Reasons For Love, Road Rage, Shopaholic!, Shout Outs, Site Maintenance, Snapshots of the Inner Me, Sports Section, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Technophile, The Diet Diaries, Thirtylists, This-Or-That, Time Wasters, Too Cool For School, Tour Talk, Two Hail Marys and an Our Father, War & Peace, | Permalink | Comments (1)

You know, I knew I loved this man, but never so much as I did after watching this clip about "what he's learned from his students":



PREACH. IT. Damn kids.

Posted by Sassy at 7:01 AM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (0)

One thing that I can never quite successfully navigate after spending any amount of the time playing on the road is an epic bout with the post-tour blue funk. It always starts about the time I get off the final flight or ride home and lasts pretty much directly in proportion to the agony and/or ecstasy experienced and the length of time I've been gone, and I'm always completely knocked for a loop at how black and all-encompassing it is. This time, of course, has been no exception: when I walked off that final plane, I was already falling down the well, and as I've learned, there is no solution but to brace for impact and hope nothing breaks at the bottom, then dust yourself off and begin the long slog back up the slope to normal life.

When you travel and work closely with a group of people for so long, it's easy to become accustomed to their presence in your everyday life: you know where the are and what they're doing, almost to the minute, of every waking hour, including all of the little dramas and idiosyncrasies that make them tick and tock, so when you finally part ways it's kind of like you've lost an appendage-- you're cut off from the collective and the silence can be deafening. The worst time is at night when I can't sleep and there's no one around-- nothing to save or distract me from the loneliness I feel, the loneliness that D can't really understand and my friends here have no idea about. I've dealt with this before, but somehow I didn't think it would be quite so devastating this time-- I had hoped that time and experience would lighten the load and make it a little more bearable, but I think I let everything in a little too much this time, so extricating myself from the death of the experience is like ripping my heart out a piece at a time.

The extreme jet lag isn't helping, but I'm really hoping I can bootstrap myself into working condition for my two shows today. Maybe work will help me reclaim my place in everyday life so that I can find some sense of normalcy, but for right now I feel enveloped in a suffocating black velvet cloud, unable to navigate and find my way home. There is light, but it seems very, very far away, and the path seems long and steep this time. *sigh*

Posted by Sassy at 4:49 AM under Conversations With The Black Dog, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (1)

I don't know what to say here yet-- everything from this trip is still too fresh on my mind. I hate traveling halfway across the world in a day, because though my body is back where I belong, my soul hasn't yet followed. I've made it to the other side of the the long succession of flights home, followed by a marvelous dinner with D and the Frankenberrys, and things may be quiet around here for the next few days while I order my heart and my mind and spend some time mending my soul. For now I sit, memories in mind, and have nothing really to say here, except this:

To all of you who made this trip such a blessing in spite of everything, know that I love you and hold you dear in my heart, second to none. The memories I have with you will be like treasured jewels I take out from time to time to remind me of how lucky I am, always, to know you and to love you and to be blessed enough to spend such intense time with you even for so short a period, even when it inevitably has to come to an end all too soon. Though you may worry, I assure you that I won't forget them, and that you are in my heart always.

Posted by Sassy at 10:23 PM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (2)

There are always rules when you travel on tour, spoken or unspoken, and the most important one to remember are the ones learned from your colleagues' behavior on the road. After all, context clues make the story, so here are some things we needed to remember this time:

1. You must have long hair to play in the cello section. This is non-negotiable.
2. When talking to yourself in rehearsal, you must speak in a foreign language, preferably one that nobody understands, including yourself. Use of your outside voice is highly encouraged.
3. Don't ask, no one will explain why anyway.
4. Breakfast is better after 9:15. (See rule No. 3)
5. THRS: That's how rumors start. Just keep that in mind.
6. Talking about it always makes it better.
7. Keeping your eyes open usually helps, but not always. For example, when dizzy from food poisoning: yes. When in the men's dressing room: NO. Oh GOD NO.
8. Never practice anything you're going to perform in the concert while warming up or on rehearsal breaks. Play your favorite concerto or aria or quartet instead. Every night. Fortissimo. Or sing it, for even better effect.
9. FUCK ART.
10. When considering the quality of your performance, dinner, accommodations, or anything else that matters, remember "it starts from S." (said in a Russian accent.)
11. If you have the melody, by God, SLOW DOWN. Don't stay at the same tempo, that's not expressive enough.
12. No discussing of the rules on the bus in front of a manager.
13. Remember, there's only one James Bond, and his name is Sean Correry. (Yes, that's the proper Chinese phonetic spelling.)

Posted by Sassy at 2:30 AM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (1)

[Guess what?!?!?!? I successfully badgered Frankenberry into doing his own post in this tour series, so here you go: introducing today's guest blogger!!!!]

So SB wanted me to to a guest blog entry, something that I really didn't want to do, originally, but she was so insistent and since she's kind of integral to some of the things I do, I figured I'd better keep her happy. A Managing Director scorned is...well, I don't want to think about the possibilities. So I'm blogging. Though I'm not a blogger. I'm not a tweeter, I don't even have a website. This is therefore very alien for me, and I apologize for any un-bloggish behavior. Now to begin:

We're in China. I really thought this would be the most different place on the planet from the U.S., but really it's coming across like a lot like big cities in Europe. It's quite dirty, kinda rude, and crowded. I don't understand them any better than I would Germans or Norwegians, though here there's little hope of finding someone who knows even a few words of English. These cities are dirtier and more crowded than Europe, but the comparisons in my mind are clear.

I must give props (yes, I said props, deal with it) to SB for being such a patient hostess. She has been my guide, advisor, and supporter, and has been kind enough to pretend that I'm not bugging her after a week of constant waking contact. Without her, I think this trip would have been a lot worse. Don't get me wrong, it's great to be here and see a few sights, but this tour is constant flying or busing, interspersed with concerts and a few hours of time in a hotel for sleep or a break. And for those who know me, you know I don't play well with others, so I may have been even more antisocial than I am right now, and sitting alone in my room wishing ill on everyone.

That being said, since this is a Sassy blog, I should say a few words about our orchestral compatriots, right? Right. You'll see the rules of the tour later, which will underscore their interesting behavior, but in reality this is just a case of being in a confined environment with 40 people for a very extended period. Personality quirks come to the fore, and many musicians just don't have the social filters that exist in regular life. Instead, we have folks who feel entitled to say what they feel, and expect other people to jump and react to please them. Goodness, I don't deal well with that. I would say something about suffering fools, but I bet someone will turn that around on me, so I'll avoid it. But gosh, I don't want to hear for the seventeenth time that you don't like your seat on the bus or your luggage got banged around or the woodwinds can't tune, because for one, no one likes their seat, for the second, that's life, and for the third, yes we can, evidenced by our blending on long octave passages between four players. So they can suck it. Yes, I can be as catty as the next musician, I just try not to show it very often. It's hypocritical, and I try to keep that to a minimum. I'm sure Boo Berry will have a response to that...

So I didn't have a good opening, and I don't have a good closing. I'm showing myself to be un-blogworthy.

And suddenly I have my close: Sassy is a Nosey Parker-- she just looked over once again to see what I was doing as we sit in this crappy hotel room in Wuhan drinking beer and catching up on our writings. Ha! I'm talking about her in the third person in her own blog! Unless she edits me. Hmm.

[SB: I promise, the only edits I made to this were a little punctuation. This one's all Frankenberry.]

Posted by Frankenberry at 2:27 PM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (2)

Sometimes the aftermath of an event is as strange and devastating to get through as the event itself, and it's surprising to me that I never remember how hard it can be to deal with.

I must have had a fever of some degree last night, because this morning I felt weak as a kitten dragging my bags downstairs to the bus to fly to Beijing. I knew when I got up that I still wasn't one hundred percent better, and like any good Southern belle, I took that as a sign that it was time for the war paint.

See, as y'all know, I grew up in the South and as any Southerner knows, women down there live by the ideal that no one should ever see you not at your best in terms of appearance, much less see you sweat, even if you're just going to the 7-11, so I got up this morning and put on my nicest outfit-- the one I bring along for business dinners-- and did my hair and makeup and breathed deep while making my way downstairs for our next leg of travel. It's amazing how much a little facade can help you bolster yourself for a less-than-ideal situation.

I skipped on breakfast as such per the advice of my doc, who I called via Skype for a little consult (her response: "Oh fuck, you're calling me from China. This can't be good." Love her, srsly) and stuck with white toast and the Gatorade which Frankenberry was kind enough to score for me the night before when I got back to the hotel. And then the plane flight: let me tell you, never underestimate the power of pressure points: it was the only way I white-knuckled it through the flight to Beijing and I've never been so glad to be off a plane (P6 and LI4). I don't think I've ever been so glad to see a familiar hotel-- the Howard Johnson Plaza Royale-- I dropped off my stuff, popped downstairs for lunch, and then scored an epic power nap and got ready for the concert.

Though I felt all right when I started the performance, as I started to play through to the point where I got sick the night before I began to freak out: Would it happen again? Could I do this? Was my BG normal? Did I have my water bottle? It never occurred to me to prepare myself for this being rough, but it really blew me away how like PTSD it felt-- I could feel all of the things that had happened the night before again, though without the bite of the actual sickness. All I could do was breathe deeply and work my water bottle like a job, but I managed to make it through all right with my game face on, war paint and all. Back onto the bus, where I dozed until we got back to the hotel and dinner, which I was too tired to eat, and now I'm for sleep because tomorrow is the Forbidden City and Temple of Heaven!!

Posted by Sassy at 2:00 AM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink

Well, our first concert didn't go exactly as planned, at least not for me. And on my birthday, too.

When I got up this morning and headed down to breakfast, I expected just to have a bite to eat and then a walk to check out the area around where we're staying, but then I met up with Frankenberry downstairs on his way to the Baiyun Mountain park to walk around, and so I joined up with them and headed out for an even better walk.

Now don't get me wrong, Baiyun Mountain was awesome, but my Indian name should seriously be Pansy because I was ready to pass out after about ten minutes. All joking aside, at least Frankenberry and Juggler and the lead trombonist were willing to wait around for my sorry ass to climb up behind them as I snapped pictures of plants and birds and views and huffed and puffed my way up stair after stair.

When we got back, it was off to get money changed and get ready for the concert, which ended up being at a totally different hall than the one where I thought we'd be playing-- this one was a beautiful new and modern concert hall downtown rather than the historic hall where we performed last time, and I was a little disappointed that Frankenberry didn't get to see the last one: he would have flipped over the detailing and the architecture and the gardens surrounding it. We had a sound check, a little pre-dinner snack, and then got ready to play, and that's where things went downhill in a flash.

Everything was running, if not smoothly, then acceptably until about 75% through the first half of the program, when I started to feel really, really strange: my heart was pounding, my limbs felt heavy, and I felt incredibly hot and dizzy, all right before and during one of the pieces where I'm fairly essential, so I tried to keep going the best that I could and managed to finish out the piece, even though FB tells me I was listing to one side at some point and he was worried I was going to fall over. I did what any good diabetic is supposed to do and checked my sugar (though I had to do it THREE TIMES because I kept screwing up the process because I was so out of it), which was sky-high, so I corrected and tried to breathe deep and power through the last piece on the half.

Over intermission I felt better, so I trotted back on stage to make it through the rest of the program, water bottle in hand, and sat down to give it a shot. My body had other ideas though, and once I started playing, my heart rate started up, I saw black spots, and I was having trouble breathing: I knew I had to get off the stage or risk becoming a news item for passing out and falling off my chair, so I told FB I was going off and headed for the door after the piece was over.

From that point it was all downhill: I was so dizzy and nauseous I couldn't stand up without help, and though I'm not sure how bad it was, I know I had a fever high enough to give me chills for a good hour or so. Luckily for me, the promoter's assistant was backstage and was an absolute dream: she made sure I had water, help walking to and fro, and a cold cloth for my head-- she even massaged my scalp and my hands to try and help me out, but whatever it was was having none of it so I just tried to lie there and not pass out or hurl on my shoes.

At this point I really have to state my thanks for having Frankenberry there: he zoomed out after the second encore to make sure I was getting some help and made sure I had a quiet place to lie down, kept people away from me (which is no small thing in a nosey group like this one) and even arranged for an alternate way for me to get back to the hotel in the car of the hotel manager and his wife, all while basically holding me up every time I had to walk anywhere. He was so good that the Boss Man just let him handle everything and stayed back out of it. He's an amazing friend, and I cannot possibly express how thankful I am that he was there to help me-- it would have been pretty terrifying and horrible to go through that without a good friend there to look out for me. He got me out of the theater and into the car, made sure I was all right on the ride back by cramming himself into the backseat of a tiny car next to me and alternately telling me to keep my eyes open (to help with the nausea) and holding a cold towel to my head, and then made sure I got to my room all right and had everything I needed (thank goodness the convenience store next door had Gatorade) to get through until my roommate came back.

Needless to say, it wasn't the best birthday I've ever had, and even though whatever it was has mostly passed, it's not something I'll ever put out of my mind while touring ever again: the feeling of having to leave the stage in the middle of a performance is terrifying and awful and not something I hope to repeat. We're now in Beijing and on for another concert tonight, which I hope goes far, far better than this one did for me.

Posted by Sassy at 2:12 AM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (2)

What is there to say about 34 hours of travel time? Not much except holy CRAP I'm so ready to never see a plane again.

A five-hour flight from Orlando to San Francisco, crammed between a squicky colleague and an old lady going to visit her kid and grandkid, then a twelve-hour flight to Shanghai and another three-hour jaunt to Guangzhou. Holy crap, I'm about as tired as it gets.

I got really lucky for the long flight and scored a seat in the same row as Frankenberry-- that was actually a lot of fun, apart from being stuck in an over-sized meat-rocket for twelve hours. That was thanks to our intrepid percussionist, The Juggler, who figured out we could check in ahead of everyone else via the airport kiosk, so we decided on the best we could get-- a window and middle seat by the galley, which ended up being awesome because the guy on the outside moved up to another empty seat before we took off and we had the row all to ourselves.The Juggler is my hero, and I'm totally buying him beer in the near future, because his quick thinking allowed me to sit and laugh with Frankenberry all the way up and over the Pacific and Alaska and down into China-- a gift that's truly immeasurable by any standard.

I have to admit, one of the things I'm most excited about on this tour is getting to spend some quality time with all of my friends, but especially him-- we're usually so busy in regular life that hanging out usually consists of going to get beers or sitting in rehearsal or at a concert-- not exactly quality talking time necessarily. (Now if I could just figure out how to fit Boo Berry into my suitcase or something for a similar one-on-one stint I'd be perfectly happy. I'll have to ponder that one...) At any rate, that's why I do these tours-- it removes me from the ebb and flow of real life and lets me spend time with some of my most favorite friends (and some of my most unfavorite people as well, but there's the price for the benefit) in a situation so removed from everyday life that it always kind of feels like a dream when it's over. As far as the pay goes, it's a pittance compared to the fact that my bottom line is covered so I can go and have some quality time with these guys.

The people on the tour have shifted again as usual-- a new wind section, same brass players, some new violins and cellos and lots of folks who are new to the China circuit. Groovemaster D is back on cello, as is The Mullet. Rock Star Roomie is rockin' the assistant concertmaster chair and the Troll is back in the first violins, and The Source is back in the seconds. Of course, Bossman is heading up the brass section, Muppet's in the horn chair, and the PTB is back on the low end. Same tour, different line-up, same problems, same bitching, same daily effort to be zen about it all and try to enjoy the experience for what it's worth, including getting to play that music-- all of this while endeavoring to have some quality time with the people you've come to love and escape from the ones you hate, inasmuch as it's possible on a plane or bus.

At any rate, mischief managed, we made it through the flight after a lunch at Gordon Biersch (oh, the tasty, tasty beer) and moved on through customs to our Guangzhou flight, which was delayed, and delayed again, and which had to taxi out to the farthest spot on the tarmac on landing. The ride back in to the terminal on the shuttle took us about 10 km and probably longer than it took us to get to the hotel, and we exited into a really surreal darkened and mostly empty and closed terminal in Guangzhou. Our promoter was waiting for us and soon we were on the bus one the way to the hotel, past restaurants and bars and places still open and hopping at 2 am.

The digs for tonight are a really odd nouveau-Scandinavian business hotel, where I now sit in the cool and bright room (YAY for air conditioning) Now I'm for sleep, because the first concert's tomorrow and there's stuff to see tomorrow morning after breakfast.

Posted by Sassy at 2:24 AM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (0)

Rehearsal done? Check. Music learned? Well, sort of check. Gettin' on a plane in the morning? Double check.

I know it's super boring, but the only thing to report about today is that we rehearsed some more and are getting on a plane in the morning for the three-leg journey to Guangzhou via Shanghai via San Francisco. All I can say is that I really, REALLY hope I don't have to sit next to someone unpleasant, because I'll be really pissed off. The cliques have already sort of formed and so we're going to try and get placed all together somewhere on the China flight so we can chill out in comfort and safety without fear of being mauled or annoyed by one of the many skeeves or loonies with which we find ourselves surrounded.

Today and yesterday were a great education in the difference in international musical terms: our conductor is British and so refers to things like "crotchets" and "minims" and "quavers" instead of quarter, half or eighth notes. It has occurred to me before that it has to be really difficult in and profession to discuss anything of great detail without running into issues of terminology, and that;s exactly the problem we had today: he'd ask us to change a crotchet to a quaver and you could pretty much hear the caveman noises emanating from our brains. It was kind of hilarious, so in order to provide for better communication across the nautical distance, I list for you now some common American terms and their British Equivalents:

• Whole note = Semi-breve
• Half note = Minim
• Quarter note = Crotchet
• Eighth note = Quaver
• Sixteenth note = Semiquaver
• Thirty-second note = Demisemiquaver
• Sixty-fourth note = Hemidemisemiquaver or "quick note"
• Hundred twenty-eighth note = Quasihemidemisemiquaver or Semihemidemisemiquaver
• Fermata = Pause

Posted by Sassy at 10:24 PM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (3)

Aaaah, the first day of rehearsal.

This is when the rubber kinda meets the road: you get to see everybody sweat through their first encounter with the group dynamic and watch the newbies try to figure out all of the weird nuances that they've only heard about through myth and legend. You also get to hear the same old hacks do the same old things in the same places, different songs.

For my part, this program is pretty much a cake walk: I just have to play with a good tone and stay relatively in tune (I say relatively, because apparently there are many consensuses on where the pitch should be, and none of them good) and most importantly keep from laughing out loud when Frankenberry leans over and makes jokes during the really cheesy bits. I think I only have one piece where I have to hustle a little, and it's one of the biggest cliches of all time, so it's more a question of not laughing while I'm trying to do it in F# Major.

In all seriousness, the music I'm playing with this group is really one of my favorite things I get to do being a professional musician: there's just such a wonderful feeling when you play music with no agenda except that it's beautiful, beautifully written and orchestrated, and only has the purpose of making people happy. Not to mention that I feel extremely privileged to play this man's music, as all of the performance and distribution rights to his arrangements are still owned by his family and NO ONE gets to use them except us under very special circumstances (AND we're playing off of copies and originals from parts handwritten by him and his arrangers. How COOL is THAT?)

That being said, it was exhausting, and I'm on my way out the door for beer and good food, after a power nap.

Posted by Sassy at 7:23 PM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ahhh, the arrival day of an ensemble tour.

I think it's safe to say that I didn't get nearly the sleep I should have last night-- I went to bed at around 3 am and popped up out of bed at 7:15 or so, ready to go and with only the thought of finishing my to-do list and getting the hell on that plane.

While we're on the subject of planes, let me make one thing clear: Southwest Airlines rocks my socks. Not only do they have the most egalitarian seating policy around, their check-in procedure is friggin' brilliant and they really know how to take care of their passengers, including leather club chairs in the waiting area and power stations for those of us who can't stand to be without our electronics for any length of time right next to those same buttery leathery lovelies. I could do without the singing at the end of the flight, but why not-- they did a damn good job otherwise.

Also, the TSA was humming along today with insane efficiency-- I was in and through security in a record three and a half minutes today, which made my life amazingly brighter and lovelier.The flight was good, had lunch with the stage manager, who picked me up at the airport, and then the first major tour walkabout around downtown Orlando. Found a Planet Smoothie for a pick-me-up after almost three miles of walking up and down city blocks, and then rode around on the free Lymmo shuttle to get the lay of the land and headed back for a good nap and some knitting time.

By the time Frankenberry showed up, I was damn good and ready for a burger and a beer ($5 Hump Day Special at Watiki in DT Orlando) so we headed out and ended up meeting three of our favorite people at the bar: Mel, our cellist friend, and the percussionist. Since Frankenberry our cellist friend wasn't here for the reading of The Rules, we decided to revisit them via my Crackberry and I think we sufficiently scared the passersby with our insane laughter. In case you haven't read them, you should refresh so you'll be up on the latest news and notes.

Tomorrow: the first rehearsal. This should be interesting.

Posted by Sassy at 11:04 PM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (0)

Well folks, the verdict is in: my bags are packed and I'm off tomorrow morning for yet another crazy trip with my touring gig.

As for how I made out with my packing, y'all will probably be surprised to know that I'm toting only one carry-on plus the clarinets and my bitty backpack purse onto the plane. For how that's going to work out, stay tuned: I'll have a verdict for you in about fourteen days. It's actually pretty amazing what you can cram into a standard carry-on bag: in my case, clothes for seven days, wash supplies, a pair of shoes, performance clothes, meds and supplies, chargers, makeup, toiletries, you name it-- I got it, and the requisite weight only comes out to a measly 25 pounds, which is less than I myself gained between the last trip there and this one. It sort of begs the question of what in the hell I took on the last trip in that E-NOR-MOUS suitcase: I was smaller, and I still did laundry every seven days or so, so what in the hell did I think I needed all that crap for?? I can remember having space in the suitcase when I came back, but I can also remember just about driving myself nuts with all of those plane flights and two wheeled bags to schlepp. This time I'm take it easy and save my exertion for those steps at the Wall.

At any rate, the itinerary includes five or six cities in fourteen days from Orlando to Beijing to Shanghai and others, and everything from basketball games to playing concerts to hiking. Planes, trains, and automobiles, and food of every shape, color and size. Knitting socks and listening to audiobooks, and getting up to shenanigans with people I hardly ever get to see except on a tour bus. More than covered by what I packed to bring with me.

And now, I'm tired and ready to hit the hay for tomorrow's beginning so I can write more coherently than I have so far (as Blue Line Mike rightly just commented on my Facebook, I need to go to bed): when next you hear from me I'll be in the land of orange juice, Mickey Mouse, and NBA playoffs: Orlando.

Posted by Sassy at 1:23 AM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (0)

It has been a damnably long time since I posted something real on this site. Of course, like so many other bloggers out there, I'm torn as to what this means for the future of this blog in the age of Twitter, Facebook, and other social media outlets, but you will not find here some long and sappy passage lamenting the demise of my one and only place to express my innermost drivel and ramblings: we all know that I'll always continue to do that in one form or another, and I don't need a dedicated webspace to do it. Christ, I'm a musician: I can always just go play some opera and weep into my bourbon.

No, instead I bring you news. News of the greatest import to my little toy tugboat of a world-- in a week's time I will once again be winging my way to the other side of the planet on yet another orchestra tour, back to China and cheese and insanity. And as always, I will be bringing you lovely readers (all two of you who still give a rat's ass) along for the ride. There will be thrills, chills, and plenty of lurid tour stories, and maybe, just maybe, if I ask very very nicely, there might be a guest blog, or even just a blurb, from the famous Frankenberry, who will be winging along with me on this particular jaunt.

But first I have a question for you: if you were going on a whirlwind tour of the Orient (yes, I know, it's not P.C., but it sounds quite nice), how would you pack? I took an enormous suitcase last time, but I'm a little leery of all that drama right now. The pertinent facts are these: we'll be gone for 13 days, be flying in and out of six cities, and I'll need clothes for sightseeing, performing, and sleeping. My clarinets will take up space as one carry-on and all of my insulin paraphernalia has to come on board with me at all times, but the other can be small or large, and I can check up to 44 pounds of luggage. So what say you? Is it possible to consolidate and still travel in style, or should I go all out? If you have any suggestions, leave a comment with tips, tricks, and ideas: I need all the help I can get.

Posted by Sassy at 1:27 AM under Like Moss On A Rolling Stone, Tales From The Cardboard Box, Tour Talk, | Permalink | Comments (4)

I can't do anything but geek out today, I'm not gonna lie: one of my favorite TV series of all time comes to an end tonight and I'm basically spending the entire day being a huge geek about all things Battlestar Galactica. One of my favorite things to come out of this series has been the absolutely fantastic music composed by Bear McCreary as soundtrack and enhancement-- as someone who plays new music for a living, I can honestly tell you that he's one of the best film composers I've heard in a long damn time-- the man just gets it.

As a musician, I was literally stopped in my tracks by the way he used Bob Dylan's All Along The Watchtower in the season three finale-- I still get goosebumps every time I hear it, and it's probably the first time I've ever wanted to stand up and roar because of a frakking television show. I, like most everybody else, missed out on being at this concert, but here's the pretty damned awesome live version McCreary did of this tune:



So say we all.

Posted by Sassy at 1:29 PM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (1)

So, I thought I was excited about the community aspect of the whole YouTube Symphony thing when it came out, especially the idea that they'd mix together peoples' YT performances of the Tan Dun piece into a whole "symphony", and then my friend Jeff pointed me to this video:



So much more cool. And the guy did a whole "album" of remixes like this one-- go to the Thru You: Kutiman Mixes YouTube website and listen through the whole thing, you'll thank me. Friggin' unbelievable. (Thanks Jeff!!)

Posted by Sassy at 11:16 PM under | Permalink | Comments (0)

Also, finally at long last (with Spencer's help-thank you), I'm closing in on a Poppet gaming table that's been partly finished for ages. I mostly work on these works between Poppet Planet duties and commissions and other projects with actual deadlines. It's that "chipping wisdom " I've mentioned before. If I don't insist on at least a little bit of time for new work each week, it will never get done. I've accepted that, at least for the time being, I'll rarely have long days in the studio working on whatever I choose. Honestly, that kind of luxury seems to be for amateurs. Not that there's anything at all wrong with being an amateur artist. Being a professional artist is a matter of choice. I made it, and that is that.

Which brings me to the point I actually wanted to make. I've talked about this before, but it's worth mentioning again. The sometimes subtle difference between "have to" and "want to." It's a perception thing and I won't go into a long essay about it (been there, done that) but just a reminder that when we wake up mornings and feel burdened by the day ahead, sometimes it's a good idea to remember that we made these choices. That we are doing these things because we want to, we choose to and that very likely, these 'have to's' benefit us or those we care about-- people or projects or causes. Anyway, just a quick note---let's remember to replace "I have to" with "I want to" or "I choose to."

It's a thing bigger inside than out. yes?

--Lisa Snellings, Artist and Poppet Wrangler

Posted by Sassy at 11:49 AM under Blogosphere, Tales From The Cardboard Box, | Permalink | Comments (2)

One fine night, they leave the pool hall,
Headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry!
Libertine men and Scarlet women!
And Rag-time, shameless music
That'll grab your son and your daughter
With the arms of a jungle animal instink!
Mass-staria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!

Posted by Sassy at 2:18 PM under Lyric of The Day, | Permalink | Comments (1)

You will notice, perhaps to your surprise, that this entry does not contain YouTube clips, LOLCats, or political rants.

Back in November I gave myself a time-out, because my mind was too full, my heart too heavy, and my soul too drained to do more than cope. Last year was perhaps one of the hardest I've survived in the span of my memory. I forgot how to laugh, how to enjoy, and eventually even how to cry, how to simply be in the stillness of a passing moment without the nagging insistence of doing. I shouldered too much weight for my own good, and found out later than I'd like to admit to that the situation was pretty dire and that I was as lost as I'd ever been in my life, so with a few polite nudges from the people that matter (you know who you are) I took a little vacation to figure out what ground I had landed on and in which direction to put one foot after the other to get back to myself, to what was right, what was joyful, what was true.

It wasn't just here that I made manifest that choice-- I literally made it the goal of my existence to un-learn and re-learn that eighteen months of lessons, and it was hard going. I left a job of over seven years, reprioritized and rearranged my participation in one of the great passions of my life, and rediscovered the concept of play, of free time, and of letting go. I'm proud to say that I have rediscovered what it means to have "free time" (what a strange concept for me), finished projects that have plagued me for years, and begun work on dreams I never thought I would try to tackle. I've kept promises I've made to myself and shelved for too long: I have slept peacefully, let other people handle teacup tempests, and written more words than I ever thought my mind could contain and wrangle. (Lest you should worry that you're missing them, they're not hiding somewhere in some other blog: I remain faithful to this place and to Twitter, and those 437,465 and counting words will come to light when they are finished and the time is right. I can only hope you will understand and not begrudge me that time to hibernate, and will still be interested enough when I make my regular return here to think, speak, and rant. If you can't stand the waiting and 140 characters or less will sate your curiosity, there's my Twitter feed.)

Most importantly, all of that time, patience and intelligent work has led to this: tonight I have a performance, which like the many that have come before it, is one more notch on a knife handle or bed post, except for one difference-- as I make ready, don the outfit, apply the makeup, heft the instrument cases and head out the door, I remember how to laugh.

Posted by Sassy at 5:49 PM under Tales From The Cardboard Box, | Permalink | Comments (4)

Okay, if you're at all a fan of the Sopranos, then you know how, well, kind of offensive it is to try and watch that particular show on A&E with all the voiceovers and cuts to take out all of the profanity. So, if you miss that and are stuck with that as your only option, I present for your so SO very NSFW pleasure, The Sopranos, Uncensored: a twenty-seven minute reel of "every curse, from every single episode of The Sopranos, ever":


the sopranos, uncensored. from victor solomon on Vimeo.

I kid you not, this had me in stitches. By the second instance of shit at 00:49 I was rolling. I fuckin' love it.

Posted by Sassy at 2:34 AM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (0)

This LOLCat brought to you by the letter Z, the number 2, and Amy over at solecist.net.

Posted by Sassy at 4:15 PM under Blatherings, | Permalink | Comments (1)

A shout-out to my ladies:



Happy birthday to one of the most fabulous ladies I know, Miss Heidelah. (Card found for her by Annelisa.)

Posted by Sassy at 3:22 PM under Shout Outs, | Permalink | Comments (0)

"You got weed? I'll store anything you want! Do you know how big a bus is?" Yes folks, here on 'dem internets with today's drunk discount, is Toby Jones of Jones Big Ass Truck Rental & Storage:



And the second spot: "CDs from your failed speed metal band..."

Thanks to D for this one. So awesome.

Posted by Sassy at 1:28 AM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (0)

Since I whiffed on last Friday's installment, here's a little gem for you all: in case you've never heard the music of Oren Lavie (go forth NOW to iTunes and stock up) here's your primer, a little bit of grace on a tired Monday, his video for "Her Morning Elegance":



Enjoy, and may your Monday be a little more graceful. I'm still trying.

Posted by Sassy at 2:37 PM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (1)

A shout out, because the fantastic Mr. Gaiman asked that this be passed on and around, for the fantastic movie Coraline coming out on February 6th:



I agree that this is my favorite trailer so far-- much more in the style and spirit of the story than some of the more lighthearted trailers I've seen.

I don't think it's a secret that I pretty much unashamedly adore Neil Gaiman's work, and I'm so completely excited to see this film. The fact that it's done all by hand and in old-school stop-motion just blows my mind and I can't imagine a better treatment for such a fantastic story. I first read Coraline just after we moved into the house where we now live, full of its old doors and bendy closets and crawlspaces and was delighted by its darkness and the fantastic warped reality he created-- one of the many reasons I love his writing: the fact that he is utterly committed to the full body of the story in all of its glorious, beautiful, and unabashedly twisted and often frightening dimensions. To see that brought to life on the screen as apparently this production has done will be a dream, or rather a nightmare, come true.

And by the way, have you seen some of the promotions they're doing for this film? It's some of the absolute best P.R. I've seen in ages. For instance, the Coraline boxes. And the Alphabet cards and ads. Fantastic.

You can pretty much bet that I'm skipping a show that weekend to go on opening night somewhere, because honestly, how could I not?

Posted by Sassy at 3:53 PM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, On Screen, Shout Outs, | Permalink | Comments (0)

Most of you are by now aware, I'm sure, of one of the all-time most-entertaining sites on the internet, FailBlog. Here today for your enjoyment: an inauguration fail, an epic fail or two, an epic win, and a really disturbing and hilarious fail. (*drum roll*)

FIrst up, I'd like to bring you an as-yet non-Failblog fail, courtesy of my town's biggest ever (apparently judging by the state of the nation's news correspondents) party and via Gawker: Diane Sawyer's Obama Inauguration Inebriation. It seems to me that maybe, just maybe, Diane's had a few too many?



I mean honestly woman, step away from the punch. (Or get some sleep? Yeah, I kind of don't buy that either.) Good grief.

Some of my favorites from FailBlog:

• Statue Fail: I mean honestly. There's no schadenfreude like church schadenfreude.
• Ice Sculpture Fail: That one just kills me-- great statue to beer cooler fodder in an instant.
• PengWIN: Score!!
• Balloon Fail: Who does that? (It's what he does at 2:06 that really really cracks me up, and also grosses me out.)

• Bell Ringer Fail

Posted by Sassy at 12:16 AM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (0)

As I type this entry, the 44th president takes his oath mere miles from my cozy house on a plaza filled to the brim with spectators famous and everyman, all shining with hope from every face. This is a day a long time coming, not just because this man is African American, but because he is the embodiment of hope on so many levels that I have longed for, for longer than I can remember.

I remember four years ago being resigned to the direction of this immediately past presidential term. The man coming into office was the picture of my resignation, because my choices had failed me, the options available had fallen so far short of what I wanted, what we needed. He was a placeholder, a worst-case scenario bid. I remember saying to David that I was so, so very tired of being ashamed of our leaders, indifferent about the choices I had to fill those spots, and of feeling apologetic every time I had to out myself as an American when I left this country. I remember pounding my fist on our kitchen table and ask why, why we could not find one man or woman who was willing to stand up and speak truth to power, to ignore politics and do what was right for the people of this country as a whole, and who I could believe in, and hope for, and be proud of as the leader of our country.

As I listen to Barack Obama's first words as our newest president, I finally feel the blossom of hope, of relief, and of pride. Even now, he speaks out and says what needs saying. He indicts the mistakes of the past administration, he elucidates the tasks we have before us, he finds the mot juste and places it with care, creating the ironclad and brilliant turn of phrase that we will remember for years to come. I realize that he won't be able to change things overnight, and I know he probably won't be able to fix everything, or maybe most things, but at least I know that he has the characteristics to do it if anyone can.

For the first time in years of living politics as local news, I feel peaceful, and that's saying something.

Posted by Sassy at 12:25 PM under DC's Favorite Contact Sport, In The News, Snapshots of the Inner Me, | Permalink | Comments (0)

I’ve been doing a lot of time in the ER lately. Today I saw a girl after an intentional overdose (she was ok).

I hope I treated her in a way that didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. I don’t know the shrink who was on duty, don’t know if he was any good. I would have offered to do the psych eval but that’s not done in this hospital.

It’s strange, I didn’t make a long or deep connection with her, but at least that kind of stuff doesn’t freak me out, which probably makes me a better doctor for her than anyone else who could have seen her.I didn’t do the awkward deliberately not asking about what happened, and also didn’t do the “overly sympathetic from someone who has no idea what they are talking about” thing, and I also didn’t do the “gawk at the accident” thing either that some docs do - immediately asking extremely probing and personal questions loudly (”Why’d you do it? Were you raped?”). She could have been seen by that attending who flipped out at me yesterday. At least I spared her that.

I asked if anything particular had happened recently. She said no, she just was tired of it all. I checked her body. I hoped she could tell I wasn’t one of those doctors, the incredulous ones, the holier-than-thou-how-could-anyone-do-such-a-thing ones.

I wanted to let her know that somehow, I understood. I hoped she saw something that made her see it - maybe one of my piercings, or the blue-black nail polish.

When I see how hard it is for some patients to once again face someone who looks down on them (and this isn’t only psych patients - it also is common with gay patients, the elderly), I wish I could give them a secret signal to show them I get it. We need a Crazy Handshake.

--My Sad Alter Ego, "The Emergency Room Visit Guide for Crazy People"

Posted by Sassy at 8:34 PM under Shout Outs, | Permalink | Comments (2)

As Solonor said, I had no idea zombies had moves like this:

Posted by Sassy at 11:44 PM under Friday YouTube RoundUp, | Permalink | Comments (2)