Instead of turning to blogging in the past 8 months, I've been freaking out about, well, the whole spectrum of 20-something problems in person with my 20-something year-old friends. A lot. Maybe too much. Wellesley girls have a tendency to voice their opinions, frustrations, theories, and explanations at length, especially when 3 or more are gathered.
I recently started reading this blog called the "Thought Catalog". The entries are submitted by writers from all over, and at first I felt like I was reading out of my own journal. It was more than just a connection; a few of the articles were so real and true to my experiences this year that I had that "oh, I'm not actually alone" moment. The sad thing is, after only a few weeks of following this blog, I'm already sick of it. I don't think I can bear to read one more article about how hard it is to be in your twenties. The first 10 articles laid out the insecurities, competition, and difficult job market our generation faces.They discuss the inner struggle to "follow our dreams" like society tells us versus being independent and making money, which society also expects. The articles usually include references to hiding in bed all day watching netflix and lists of things that mean you're not so bad off, after all.
So okay, I get it. After reading a few of these, I stopped to assess. I know all the issues now. I'm not the only one facing them. I thought about the main challenges I'm facing in my life, and what I could do to take some action for good. What worth is there in reading and re-reading other people's worry lists and tyrades?
Last night my church joined 4 others in the South End to pray and sing for the healing of Boston. It was an incredible time of worship lead by the Reality Boston worship team, fellowship, and prayer. The room was packed with people, and we were not shy about lifting up our voices, declaring that yes, even in this time of grief and overwhelming shock and sorrow in our city, it is well in our souls. We split up into small groups of 4-5 people to pray for the victims of Monday's attack, their families and friends, and for healing for Boston. We prayed that people would experience God's love in this time. I prayed that we would see the need in our communities and workplaces, and be courageous to give people with love and service.
In the midst of the songs and scripture readings I also prayed some for my silly twenty-something problems, and for my family. Lists and rants can only get you so far. I've made them, but now I choose to pray, to sing, and to take action.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Monday, September 17, 2012
singing
all which isn't singing is mere talking
and all talking's talking to oneself
(whether that oneself be sought or seeking
master or disciple sheep or wolf)
gush to it as deity or devil
-toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles
name it cruel fair or blessed evil-
it is you (ne i)nobody else
drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing
-you are deafened every mother's son-
all is merely talk which isn't singing
and all talking's to oneself alone
but the very song of(as mountains
feel and lovers)singing is silence
e.e. cummings
and all talking's talking to oneself
(whether that oneself be sought or seeking
master or disciple sheep or wolf)
gush to it as deity or devil
-toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles
name it cruel fair or blessed evil-
it is you (ne i)nobody else
drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing
-you are deafened every mother's son-
all is merely talk which isn't singing
and all talking's to oneself alone
but the very song of(as mountains
feel and lovers)singing is silence
e.e. cummings
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The past few weeks have been, well, a bit interesting.
Everything at work has been on crack since the return of students and faculty. My job has become a lot busier and more demanding, which is exciting, but also tiring. I moved into my new office, where I'll be the rest of the year, and it is my little oasis of peace. I spend a lot of my day working with the students at the Helpdesk and running around to places on campus like the registrar and the finance offices to fix a zillion java plug-in problems, so I love coming back to my quiet nook of an office. I share the room with a lovely woman named Becky, and we have a big window with a view of beautiful trees and the old-fashioned dark red brick of Schneider and Billings Hall next door.
But it has been even more than work. This was a big summer for friendships and having to decide when something is healthy and when a relationship is toxic. There's also the transition of relationships that were easy to maintain during the stress-free summer months, which now require more attention and thought since we're all back to work full-time and living in different parts of the city. I've been feeling a bit emotionally drained lately, from all of the attention I've been giving these kinds of things.
I've also been experiencing a lot of miscommunication lately, which is not normal for me. Usually I can be effective with my communication skills, it's one of the reasons I feel so confident having so many friends I keep in touch with. This plus stress at work plus the return of some emotional complications from the end of my last semester, and you've got a tired Lucy with too many things to think about, floundering about unable to get anything done.
After about an hour of trying to start something and immediately forgetting what I was about to do this morning, enough was enough. The other night at an open choir rehearsal for the Boston Choral Ensemble, we sight-read one of my favorite choral pieces by Gabriel Faure, the Cantique de Jean Racine. Wellesley gives me access to Naxos music online, so I searched for the piece and just sat and listened to it. Then I searched for the newest addition to my performance repertoire, Cantata 51 by J.S. Bach for solo soprano. I listened to the two middle movements, my favorites of the piece for their yrical and floating melodic lines, and the balance between tension and sweet resolution. The accompaniment of the aria is stunning in its flowing and circular atmosphere, the foundation to a melodic line that is complex and unsure of itself at times. This seems to me to be a beautiful connection to the text, which is a supplication to God to continue to make each day new and beautiful. The text trusts in God's promise to remain the same, but there is still the feeling of uncertainty and a need for hope. The sequential patterns of the accompaniment are both stabilizing, but also searching.
This kind of Bach reminds me of his flute Sonata in B minor, which I played my sophomore year at Wellesley. Playing, singing, and listening to Bach, I realize, is something that utterly grounds me. The B minor Sonata was a piece that I felt I could play from my heart, because it is full of pain and seeming upsets and let downs, but there are still precious moments of hope and resolution. Put altogether, the piece is beautiful, but for me it was something like therapy to play it through on my crappiest days. I would leave the practice room more awake and content, feeling like there can be hope for resolution, no matter how dismal a day can be. I've been reading and memorizing scripture more lately, but I also need to remember that music is the way I connect with God the best. It is my path to feeling strength in His firm foundation.
A lot is going on now, and I can't say when it will stop. In the future, I'm sure I will face much more than this. So I will place my hope and trust in God and stop wearing myself out emotionally and mentally. I believe that He knows that path my feet will take, and the good my hands will do.He loves me, and even when I am surrounded by others who love me, I still need His love.
It's moments like this one, where I remember that I am truly, at heart, a musician, and that living with my music is something I don't just enjoy. It's something I need.
Everything at work has been on crack since the return of students and faculty. My job has become a lot busier and more demanding, which is exciting, but also tiring. I moved into my new office, where I'll be the rest of the year, and it is my little oasis of peace. I spend a lot of my day working with the students at the Helpdesk and running around to places on campus like the registrar and the finance offices to fix a zillion java plug-in problems, so I love coming back to my quiet nook of an office. I share the room with a lovely woman named Becky, and we have a big window with a view of beautiful trees and the old-fashioned dark red brick of Schneider and Billings Hall next door.
But it has been even more than work. This was a big summer for friendships and having to decide when something is healthy and when a relationship is toxic. There's also the transition of relationships that were easy to maintain during the stress-free summer months, which now require more attention and thought since we're all back to work full-time and living in different parts of the city. I've been feeling a bit emotionally drained lately, from all of the attention I've been giving these kinds of things.
I've also been experiencing a lot of miscommunication lately, which is not normal for me. Usually I can be effective with my communication skills, it's one of the reasons I feel so confident having so many friends I keep in touch with. This plus stress at work plus the return of some emotional complications from the end of my last semester, and you've got a tired Lucy with too many things to think about, floundering about unable to get anything done.
After about an hour of trying to start something and immediately forgetting what I was about to do this morning, enough was enough. The other night at an open choir rehearsal for the Boston Choral Ensemble, we sight-read one of my favorite choral pieces by Gabriel Faure, the Cantique de Jean Racine. Wellesley gives me access to Naxos music online, so I searched for the piece and just sat and listened to it. Then I searched for the newest addition to my performance repertoire, Cantata 51 by J.S. Bach for solo soprano. I listened to the two middle movements, my favorites of the piece for their yrical and floating melodic lines, and the balance between tension and sweet resolution. The accompaniment of the aria is stunning in its flowing and circular atmosphere, the foundation to a melodic line that is complex and unsure of itself at times. This seems to me to be a beautiful connection to the text, which is a supplication to God to continue to make each day new and beautiful. The text trusts in God's promise to remain the same, but there is still the feeling of uncertainty and a need for hope. The sequential patterns of the accompaniment are both stabilizing, but also searching.
This kind of Bach reminds me of his flute Sonata in B minor, which I played my sophomore year at Wellesley. Playing, singing, and listening to Bach, I realize, is something that utterly grounds me. The B minor Sonata was a piece that I felt I could play from my heart, because it is full of pain and seeming upsets and let downs, but there are still precious moments of hope and resolution. Put altogether, the piece is beautiful, but for me it was something like therapy to play it through on my crappiest days. I would leave the practice room more awake and content, feeling like there can be hope for resolution, no matter how dismal a day can be. I've been reading and memorizing scripture more lately, but I also need to remember that music is the way I connect with God the best. It is my path to feeling strength in His firm foundation.
A lot is going on now, and I can't say when it will stop. In the future, I'm sure I will face much more than this. So I will place my hope and trust in God and stop wearing myself out emotionally and mentally. I believe that He knows that path my feet will take, and the good my hands will do.He loves me, and even when I am surrounded by others who love me, I still need His love.
It's moments like this one, where I remember that I am truly, at heart, a musician, and that living with my music is something I don't just enjoy. It's something I need.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
covered walls
I started a tumblr a couple of weeks ago, inspired by that of a friend. She posted the link to her facebook, and I was struck by the vibrant, beautiful images she had amassed. They screamed out happiness and pure delight, which is something this friend of mine radiates. I immediately felt drawn to pool together images I loved. sure I have a facebook and a pinterest and a blog. But this new forum could be just for pictures, for putting things there I may need to look at on a bad day, or during a coffee break at work when I'm tired. It's amazing what kind of little impact an image can have on you.
Anyone that has ever visited a room of mine would have experienced my love of images. My first real room to myself was in the little red house on the lake in Westford. When my sister left for college I was a sophomore in highschool, and I got to expand to the other side of our attic room. The ceiling walls met at a point barely above my standing height, and sloped down to the ground. We slept on mattresses on the floor, had pull out drawers to attempt to organize our clothes and the ceiling was split into 8 sections by wooden paneling. Sometimes I still have nightmares about cleaning that room, but most often, I think about the hours I spent arranging and re-arranging pictures on those walls. I could use tacks, so I was constantly re-doing the entire thing, having a whole panel of artwork I did at school and another with quotes I loved, another with pictures of these friends and then these other memories. I had trinkets and beads and glittery sun-catchers hanging in front of my windows, dried bouquets of roses hanging from the very center of the room.
That bedroom was my sanctuary, and I exploded my teenage thoughts, emotions, and confusions onto those walls.
The same pattern took place with my decorating in college, perhaps a little more toned down by purchases of nice posters and gifts of framed family paintings. My room definitely had the least blank wall space of the majority of my friends.
I'm moving into my first apartment next Wednesday and I'm excited to think about all those blank walls.
This time, there will be no tacks or scotch tape. No gummy sticky stuff that was never supposed to stick to the walls when you removed the poster at the end of the year, but always did. My friend gave me a toolkit in an orange case when she left college, and I intend to use it. I'll frame the images that means the most to me, and hang them, level them. Maybe move them around a bit until the feng shui is just right.
It feels more grown-up this time. Maybe I am growing up.
Or maybe spending so much time updating my tumblr is going to give me more ideas than will fit on my walls.
We'll see.
Anyone that has ever visited a room of mine would have experienced my love of images. My first real room to myself was in the little red house on the lake in Westford. When my sister left for college I was a sophomore in highschool, and I got to expand to the other side of our attic room. The ceiling walls met at a point barely above my standing height, and sloped down to the ground. We slept on mattresses on the floor, had pull out drawers to attempt to organize our clothes and the ceiling was split into 8 sections by wooden paneling. Sometimes I still have nightmares about cleaning that room, but most often, I think about the hours I spent arranging and re-arranging pictures on those walls. I could use tacks, so I was constantly re-doing the entire thing, having a whole panel of artwork I did at school and another with quotes I loved, another with pictures of these friends and then these other memories. I had trinkets and beads and glittery sun-catchers hanging in front of my windows, dried bouquets of roses hanging from the very center of the room.
That bedroom was my sanctuary, and I exploded my teenage thoughts, emotions, and confusions onto those walls.
The same pattern took place with my decorating in college, perhaps a little more toned down by purchases of nice posters and gifts of framed family paintings. My room definitely had the least blank wall space of the majority of my friends.
I'm moving into my first apartment next Wednesday and I'm excited to think about all those blank walls.
This time, there will be no tacks or scotch tape. No gummy sticky stuff that was never supposed to stick to the walls when you removed the poster at the end of the year, but always did. My friend gave me a toolkit in an orange case when she left college, and I intend to use it. I'll frame the images that means the most to me, and hang them, level them. Maybe move them around a bit until the feng shui is just right.
It feels more grown-up this time. Maybe I am growing up.
Or maybe spending so much time updating my tumblr is going to give me more ideas than will fit on my walls.
We'll see.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
sound bites
These days, I tend to be very in tune with myself about my musical cravings at any given moment. It takes after my food cravings, in that usually for a few days I have irrepressible urges for the same things over and over, and then they quietly switch to something new and completely different a while later. For a few weeks there, every day at 3 o'clock, it would be necessary for me to eat a bag of fritos. In March I wanted salad with ranch dressing a lot. Usually rootbeer and charleston chews go together.
Some days when I'm a bit down, I want emotional music, maybe even a bit sad, to make me feel better. These two songs seem to have stuck with me since the summer started:
This week was different though--with a radical juxtaposition of happy and angry, I would get to work every morning needing this adorable song:
And find myself driving home late at night, singing along to this one:
All lovely, some happy, some sad.
LB
Some days when I'm a bit down, I want emotional music, maybe even a bit sad, to make me feel better. These two songs seem to have stuck with me since the summer started:
This week was different though--with a radical juxtaposition of happy and angry, I would get to work every morning needing this adorable song:
All lovely, some happy, some sad.
LB
Proverbs
I've put a new Bible verse in my little yellow book, and it's from an e-mail my mom sent me earlier today.
"Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a fatted ox and hatred with it." Proverbs 15:17
It has been an awesome week at work, more than a month now on the job. I finally know enough to start working on all of my own projects, so I'm very, very happy. We also helped out a friend of mine by volunteering last minute to host two British girls for the last few days. The Selwyn College Choir from Cambridge University in England is on their first ever US tour, starting in Boston and travelling to New Haven, Philadelphia, New York, and D.C. My brother, grandmother, and I worked together to make our guests, May and Jo, feel welcome and at home. That meant good food, relaxation, music-making and of course, a trip to Kimball Farm for enormous sundaes.
In light of the wonderful experiences I've been having this week, there have been some very serious things on my mind as well. Earlier this week I had what must be my first conflict with a friend in over 4 years (they tend to happen about every 4-5 years with me), and it has left me shocked, hurt, and a bit bewildered.
The situation is so difficult, painful, and complicated, that I feel like there is nothing I really can do to change it right now in any sort of positive way. Walking away, for me, is usually not the solution.
But in this case, I think that's what needs to be done. At least for a while. The verse from Proverbs struck me because I'm not the kind of person who walks away from people in my life (ever), and I also am always more comfortable with putting myself in a dangerous position, because I trust that I have a thick skin. Thinking about what could happen if I were to place myself in the line of fire this time, I know that it would be unnecessary abuse. My friend has made it clear that her idea of a "conversation" is to have me listen to everything she has to say, but I don't think she intends to listen to me.
For now, I will stick to my herbs. Especially since those with love are finally getting back from being away all week.
love,
LB
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