Paint the World. And the Practice Rooms.

Converse has about 16 trillion traditions, plus two. In fact, it becomes rather hard to keep up with them all. So, naturally, I’m choosing to create another one. I have always liked the idea of seniors being able to leave something behind: an imprint on the school, if you will. I would propose, as a new Converse College/Petrie School of Music tradition, that the graduating seniors be able to paint a soundboard to be displayed in the practice rooms. Each graduating class could have some input into the soundboard and put a little bit in each. Maybe each person could put a little bit about what the class has left behind, and where they will be going. I know that I would love to know where those who graduated before me have gone off to do. Knowing that they knew what there next step was upon leaving would give me a sense of comfort. I would know that I could find a next step. AND! Creativity anyone? (Buller?) Wha-pa-shablam! There it is. The past may be the past, but I do love knowing that success came before me, and that it isn’t impossible for success to come from me. I would love to leave something for the success that will follow. I know that when I’m stressed out in the practice rooms, looking up and seeing something left behind would soothe, and inspire. We all know they could use a little color. Now, to go practice.

Don't Cry For Me Argentina

So, I have this friend. And this friend is Argentinean. He lived there until he was about 5, I believe, and then his family, including his older brother, moved to the States. Good ‘ol Conway, South Carolina in fact. When I entered into middle school, so did he, and we both joined the band. We went to different elementary schools and didn’t know one another until this pivotal point in both of our lives. And while we both were in separate band classes, he in the woodwinds, and I in the brass, I always saw him at after school rehearsals and during the concerts. Knowing he’ll probably read this, I know I’m going to get some serious beef for admitting this: He, in all seriousness, intimidated me more than anyone had up to that point in my life. I was TERRIFIED of Jose Pope. He always seemed so much more intelligent than I was. (He was. And still is. Sometimes.) I knew that he was foreign, that much was obvious. I also firmly believed that he couldn’t speak English. I’m not quite sure why at this point, because that seems like a very silly assumption to make about a person surrounded by Americans, conversing with them easily.

Anyway... Throughout the rest of middle school. Jose and I never really had a conversation. He would smile at me and I would probably look like a fool and try to find something be

tter to do. But when we were in the same room, I was always aware of him. (No, I’m not a creeper. I was intrigued by the only foreigner I knew.) At this point, I had learned that he did, in fact speak English fluently, and he socialized like every other middle schooler I knew. Except for me, who was too shy to leak out of my close circle of friends. I did, however notice that he acted a little different. He was kind not only with the people he was frequently seen with, but... to everyone! I mean, most kids weren’t outwardly hateful, they saved that for when their friends backs were turned, but Jose was kind to each and every person he talked to. The ugly, the beautiful, the average, the hateful, the generous, and the annoying. He seemed to have a place for them all. This is the first thing I ever learned from Jose. (The first of many, as I’m sure Jose would love to point out.) I learned from him (granted, it took a long time for me to realize this) not to be afraid of people who were different. Jose was my first friend that wasn’t a little average looking American kid, fast forwarding to high school. He is also, pretty much, the most “ethnic” thing I have run into in life thus far, aside from his 1.5 armed dad and sweetheart of a mother who’s cooking I’m dying to try.

(What I really want to say here is, “Basically, I feel like this blog is an advertisement for my Best friend. Ladies, he’s single.” But.....)

Graduation.

Basically, because of him, I am no longer afraid of the different. Through the course of high school, Josie (as I’ve taken to calling him) developed into my closest friend, and someone I could always rely on to tell me exactly what I didn’t want to hear, exactly when I needed to hear it. I could also count on him to tell me terrible stories about life in Argentina. Mainly about he and his brother killing numerous chickens for dinner and me being immensely grossed out.

Another random fact about Argentineans (and I’m pretty sure a lot of the world still works like this): They mate for life. Like people in America used to. Like penguins. The Pope sense of family was so intense that there were times it brought tears to my eyes. I longed for that to be my family, and so many of the families in America I’d heard about. It seems that they know something that we don’t here, or maybe that we’ve forgotten. I want that to be my family when I’m ready.

Oh, and never call an Argentinean a Mexican. They don’t like it very much. But they get used to it after a while.

And, I’m pretty sure he wrote “Don’t cry for me Argentina” when he left. Pretty sure. He’s that good. He inspires me.

Okay, I’m done. I love Jose Pope.

I’m sure I’ll add to this later. It doesn’t do him enough justice.

Please wash your hands.

Let me first begin by saying how appreciative I am of the fact that this weeks blog topic is on my health and wellness. Also that this particular topic falls on the week that I am incapacitated by the lovely Flu. (Okay, no, it’s not the “lovely” flu. But that is the correct use of the word “it’s.” I need some happy.)

Alright. After I have spent a full 5.37 minutes chuckling at the comic irony I continue to find in this topic (and cough a few hundred....thousand... times) I’ve come to a profound realize that the biggest challenge to staying healthy on campus is simply to not catch SOMETHING. I’m no germ-o-phobe. In fact, as a child, I was a firm believer in the 5, 10, and 15 second rules. I mean, God made dirt, right? While I may not take part in such, cough-cough, “rituals” now, if there’s only one baby carrot left in the bag and my butterfingers self drops it on the floor, you’re dang right I’d eat it! Now don’t wig out. I’m now smart enough to wash it first, or at least blow off the dirt.

I wash my hands after I pee; I cover my cough with my elbow. For heaven’s sake, I certainly don’t go running into peoples after-sneeze and breathe deeply! In summation, I’ve always been careful and cautious, but I don’t feel that I need to turn into Invader Zim and try to waste my life trying to disinfect the planet.⁵ But now, coming to college and hearing all this talk about the flu ep

idemic (and catching the dreaded flu myself) has given me a different outlook. In fact, when one stops to think about the possibilities, it’s really freaking scary! The Flu has an incubation period of 12-36 hours. How many doorknobs do we all touch just going through Blackman everyday? If one person who has the flu touches one doorknob in the music building then every other person who happens to touch that doorknob now has the flu. I’m not even considering the practice rooms and each of the 88 keys on the thousands of pianos that each of us just has to tinkle with whenever we walk by. And! not to mention the desks we sit in and the ensembles in which we all take part in. And another thing! The flu is AIRBORNE! We are musicians! Vocalists and wind players use AIR to create that beautiful thing we all love called music. And they have to rely on being able to breathe to create music. THEN FLU SEASON HITS!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! We are always in close proximity with each other and when one gets sick, doesn’t know it, and goes to class.... Well it’s no wonder the quarantined 2nd Pell is filling up so q

uickly! (It’s a good think I got it when I was at home last weekend, right?)

Okay, I feel much better now. Thanks for that. Now, to get back on topic...

As for staying healthy, how are you supposed to in the midst of all of this? Use the hand sanitizer that can be found around every corner? Well, yes. I did that. Wash your hands? Yes, yes, I did that as well. Stay away from sick people? Yes, that’s a given. But what about when those things fail, or when that’s not enough? Get a flu shot! And if that doesn’t work... pray. I truly believe that getting something like the flu is by luck of the draw, or rather, unluck. So, good luck staying healthy!

But, I’m sure other things are related. (Unlike the nature of this blog.) Ya know: “Get enough sleep” and “don’t get too stressed out.” Those are easier said than done. I’ve found that I’ve had to do as suggested and set a limit for how late I’ll allow myself to stay up every night. Without sleep I’m not at all functional and it only takes longer for me to get things done when I’m tired. As far as getting stressed out, I have my vent person. The person I know I can call at any time and let everything out too, or even just to get a hello from to bring around a calm to my being. That calm is absolutely necessary for me to continue converting O₂ into CO₂.

As far as eating and exercising go, I eat when I’m hungry and I go to and from class and all over campus. I also have my bike, and I love to ride around campus when I need to get away from my feet and think. This and shower time is when I rejuvenate my spirit. This is Erica time; time where I can sit and just think without feeling as if I should be somewhere else. I contemplate life and think about my future. I dream. I love dreaming.

I should probably eat more veggies, but I don’t eat lard all day. I enjoy the taste of most healthy foods, so I eat them (not corn,) but I do love to indulge in some purple ice cream from time to time.... Goodness it’s delicious.

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"You do not have to be an alcoholic to experience problems with alcohol."

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Wow, it’s as if that were my life mantra. Be prepared to get a little personal.

Both of my biological parents are alcoholics. They are divorced because their “love” for one another came from drunken snow-bunny embraces on a Colorado mountaintop and not from anything real. My mom is now 14 years sober and regularly attends AA meetings. We celebrate each year she adds another blue chip to her collection. During the short period in my youth when I lived with my mom, my sister and I would accompany her to these meetings. The smoke filled rooms were full of people sitting in a big circle pushed around to the edges of the wall telling terrible stories of their hardship. I experienced problems alcohol each time I looked into the eyes and hearts of these people who had so tainted their lives. At least they wanted to get better. Some did, some didn’t.

My dad, on the other hand, isn’t recovered. He’s also not loud or obnoxious when he’s drunk. That’s how I realized how bad it was. Every day, my day would walk around with a Gin and Tonic with a lime. Each time I saw the glass empty, it was no more than seconds until it was full again. His tolerance level for alcohol is so high that he when he has enough, he just passes out- usually on the couch in front of ESPN or CNN with the Gin and Tonic glass resting on his rather large belly.

With the addition of my Stepmom, she’s realized and he’s gotten much better. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him “passed-out,” but the memory of those days will never fade. I’ve experienced problems with alcohol. I’m bread to become addicted myself. It’s this reason that I won’t. I’ve seen what it does. It won’t do it to me. I know how I want my life to be and it’s NOT going to be run by a stinky liquid. I know I would be able to be responsible, but alcohol’s just not for me. Not ever. People tell me it’ll change, but my foot’s on the rock.

And I did not mean to end on an unhappy note.

Please stay healthy ya’ll!

Music and Sutras? (Not the sexual kind.)

“Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out.”

Over the course of this past week, this has been my non-stop mantra. (Well, in actuality, this is what it should have been.) As we all approach an end to week three as students of Converse College, I must admit that I am more overjoyed for the rapid approach of the weekend than I ever needed to be in high school. By Tuesday afternoon, I was already willing the weekend to come faster not so I could sleep or relax and be lazy, no. I need the weekend to come faster simply for the fact that I need more time. Lots. More. Time. And I feel like I’ve been very productive this week! I’ve learned tons and finally got Solfedge right on the first try in Musicianship! I’ve done my practicing, and can feel myself slowly improving, but I still feel as if I’m not doing enough. Or rather that I’m still not good enough. Or, to be even more direct, I’m still not as good as I want to be. But all in all, I am doing my favorite thing in the universe-- I’m learning. (I know you’re shocked. Don’t be too alarmed, playing horn is a very, very close second.)

One of the most psychologically satisfying bits of information I have come across in these past couple of weeks came not from monkeying around Dr. Couch in his powder blue suit, but instead from my sharp, soft-spoken yoga teacher and an all too cheery little Indian man. It was Iyengar, the very...eh-hem...flexible Indian Yogi, who wrote that it is important and essential to seek perfection in that which we love, however it is even more important to acknowledge and even rejoice in small improvements. Without these small improvements, perfection (or even getting close to it) would never be close to possible, let alone probable.

For me, this is my biggest shortcoming in both music and life. What I do and how hard I try always leads to frustration and stress as to how fast I, personally, want my goal to be accomplished. Reading this specific passage in yoga was like a tiny epiphany for me, it was as if a pretty substantial lightbulb went off and I suddenly knew what was wrong with me. I really didn’t need a doctor!! I had never before acknowledged any small improvement I would make, I was simply never happy until everything was right. It is here that the beauty of the Liberal Arts Education System became known to me.

When I began applying to Colleges, I knew that I wanted to study at a liberal arts institution firstly because of the small class sizes. Getting a more personalized education was important to me, but even more important, as I found when looking into said institutions, was the fact that within a liberal arts curriculum, there is not only plenty of room for one to dabble around in many different areas of interest, but it is required. This only made my lust for this type of curriculum, and Converse greater. This became the extent of my knowledge of the liberal arts programs until I began classes. Though being scheduled for my yoga class, I’ve, already, been able to apply the things I’ve learned from that class to my Horn Performance major, things that I believe I would have perceived differently were they explained through a music course. This, I believe is the most beneficial advantage over going to a school focusing on specialization. Where there one would always be in the same building, lumped with the same people, and only taking classes for their specialization with no chance to explore other areas. Here, I feel like because we get to branch out, we’ll have the advantage of being able to take information or processes from different areas and apply them to our majors while still getting the opportunity to be well rounded.

By taking my yoga class alone, I’ve been able to take not only the little snippet from Mr. Iyengar, but the art of adjusting your breath to help with breath support. And, for example, if one took a psychology class, they could take away knowledge of how people and the human psyche reacts to being placed in the spotlight, and how to react to it, to become a better performer. Even a course on the French Revolution can have its relevancies. The effects the revolution had on the French and music being composed at that time were vast. Learning about this through a specific course would help me to apply it to music history, where the courses overlapped and would create a deeper interest in me to learn even more about not only my field of interest. I feel that as a professional, I’d have a better understanding because of my increased interest. And one day, when I teach, I will be able to explain things in a multitude of ways to those who aren’t prodigies. Ya know, like me.

A small (off topic) snippet about Liberal Arts that I learned from wikipedia: Grammar, rhetoric, logic, geometry, visual arts, arithmetic, music, and astronomy are what the Liberal Arts are defined as. I thoroughly enjoy learning about all of the above. Except the ones that deal with icky math. AP Calculus in high school is the highest I hope to ever have to go. Oh, and my appreciation for correct grammar didn’t show in my listening assignment. Who decided the spelling for timbre anyway?? :)

Now! For a brief list of the things I learned at Convocation. (Relevance is... well... skeptical.)

1.) Dr. Robbins is a composer! I know a Composer! Cool.

2.) Words cannot describe how awesome Dr. Couch is. I didn’t know that an organ could play a note so low that is literally can make you chair vibrate on the floor!!

3.) Students spend 3 years of educational time planning how they’re going to attempt to distract the speakers at convocation, and miserably fail. (Which, on a side note, I really enjoyed the grace and dignity with which Dr. Mad and President Flemming carried their speeches while marbles and such rolled to wreak havoc and doom. I don’t think it would have been so at other institutions.)

4.) Twitchell has amazing acoustics. (If you’re not on stage.) It was terribly hard to understand what the speakers were saying from the back of the stage, which, all and all, was very disappointing... I have heard some pretty awesome things about Dr. Mad and was greatly looking forward to leaving with a little bit more than “TRAVEL ABROAD!!” I’m sure there was more there, and it’s unfortunate that that’s what I left with. And I always enjoy listening to President Flemming.

Alright, after 1100 words, I’m done. I truly hope all of you have a blessed week, and that you can all remember not to get too stressed out. We’re all in the same crazy, not-so-perfect boat together, but we’re all improving. Don’t forget to be happy. (And I hope everyone kicked serious butt on that theory test this morning.)

:)

If only it were as simple as being a housewife.

For my first blog, I would like to begin by setting the mood. It is, as I type this, a calm Thursday afternoon, around 5:04, and I am leisurely sitting in the lush green Quad outside of Williams Dormitory gloriously basking in the warm sun. To passersby, it would seem as if I haven’t a care in the world. And apart from being a bit on the hungry side, they’re right! I haven’t a care in the world, aside from the 50 hours of MacGamut due for Dr. Taylor with that wonderful program born during the times of Pong, the 60 Sanskrit names for Yoga (all with way too many syllables), learning how to play piano-with both hands at the same time, breaking in a new horn wile worrying of others who may be judgmental, trying to find the time to practice 25 hours a day as a Performance Major should--while simultaneously trying to find the drive to practice in the tiny musty rooms alloted for music majors to live, and, of course, poorly attempting to block out the Upperclassmen Music Major Tales of Doom and Dismay to Come. All this combined with the unique feelings of moving into a place, sharing my room space with another person, ...having to keep it clean..., and missing family and the comfort of hugs from those you love most put together makes Erica a very care free girl!! Even upon meeting new people, when it becomes known that one is a music major, the common response is, “The Lord be with you” or even reaching to, “Mmmmm, cool... That sucks for you.”

But don’t get me wrong! I’m super exited about majoring in music. My love for playing and excelling in music is what has driven me to study further, and upon deciding that I wanted to major in Performance, I knew right away that it would be a tremendous amount of work and it would require immense persistence, dedication, and passion, not just love, for the art of music. Although I know that I’m no where close to being prepared to sit in front of a Jury, or even to walk into Symphony rehearsal on Monday afternoon, I possess the three aforementioned qualities and have enough passion to share. Some feel their calling is literature, some politics, some Spanish, and some biology. My calling in life, I am quite certain, is music. To play it, to study it, to learn how it’s formed, to learn how others perceive it. To understand why exactly it is that music attracts me so and to use this information to satisfy my future, for absolutely as long as I can: until I lose my hearing or my lips fall off, whichever happens to come first.

So now, why Converse? Erica, if you wanted to study music, why would you do it at Converse? What’s so special? The first thing that jumps to the forefront of my mind is the people. More specifically, the music faculty. Because the class sizes are small, each student gets personal attention and really gets to know the professors (not to mention the simple fact that the professors are awesome). The horn professor, also, really gives me the sense that I can succeed here, as does the rest of the music faculty. Here, I feel that not only will I want to succeed, but the professors also would through and through. This combined with the beautiful campus, fantastic admission staff, and wonderful campus involvement organizations had my mind made up instantly.

As for college in general, not going to college was never an option for me. Not because my parents drilled it into my head, but simply because I always held myself to higher standards than they did. A good life choice, I know. Neither of my parents went to or finished college and throughout all of my schooling thus far in my life, I have valued my education highly. Continuing onto college from high school has always been my plan, and it was never an option for these plans to falter.

And now, for the hardest question I’ve had to address.

If I could no longer do anything with any relation to music, I would choose to follow either one of two very different paths. I would either become a college professor of Philosophy, or a housewife. When I was younger, I always said I wanted to be a mother when I grew up and there is a part of me that will always want that for myself. Of course, being a mother for me means doing things “the right way,” getting married, then consummating our pure marriage, and then, when we’re both ready we’ll discuss and have children. I would love to be the mom that can truly be there for her children as my mom was not. Being able to read to my children and tell them bedtime stories would be a highlight of my life. Other than that, I would love to study, and teach, philosophy. I have always been intrigued by the process of thought and philosophy and would simply love to wrap my mind around it. I love to imagine, and thrive on developing thoughts into stories, or images. Impossible things, through the process of thought, suddenly become not only possible, but attainable and begin to move into the realms of reality. So, I leave you with more darling words to live by from the wonderful world of Alice:

“There is no use in trying,” said Alice; “one can’t believe impossible things.”

“I dare say you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your

age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as

many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

--Lewis Carroll