Thursday, September 23, 2010

Trophies, Tears, and True Love

trophies, tears, and true love



Each day is full of sonatas in major and minor. Some are easy and some are not so easy. I wish I could enjoy a really good passage over slower paces of time.

I won first place at a Toastmasters Contest last weekend. I will be competing at the division level in a few weeks. I have to credit my music teaching experience to making me a good evaluator. I was touched that the test speaker whose speech I had to give a 3 minute critique approached me and said he found my evaluation most sincere among my competitors.

His comment made my day.

It was my first competition outside the comfort zone of my club. My competitors were experienced and ultra cool in my book. They were also writers with blog and Facebook fan base numbers that got a WOW out of me. I felt absolutely ill.

Me? I'm JNET. I do lots of things and stumble upon different worlds out of curiousity. My friends make fun of me that I get too busy to even care for a fish.

My one and only fish was a beta which I named ââ,¬oeAmore Paziente (Patient Love). He was great. He was beautiful. And he eventually died. I was busy; travelling, going to rehearsals, doing something.

Back to Toastmasters, competing at an area contest I went in as JNET, who analyzes things in a not so linear, not so package-perfect, not so corporate suit manner. I improvised and made my comments from a way of being that didnt quite follow protocol.

I did not know what the standard way of giving a speech evaluation was. I was contestant number one. Lucky me got to do my evaluation FIRST and then was able to sit down and watch every single contestant. They were great, polished organized and they followed a formula. I was imagining bullet points lining up besides their heads as they spoke.

And I won - which felt very wonkish wonderlandish.

And I find it hilariously funny that not a single one of my competitors got to see me do my evaluation speech.

My evaluation prep was a brain storm of tiny notes I had peppered a piece of paper with. I made note of thoughts that I wanted to share with the speaker; notes about things that he did well that he may not have been aware of and of course stating the obvious good things he did so that he may continue those.

Mentors since have approached me to work on communicating more analytically as opposed to artistically. I am not sure how to improvise from their criticism.

Create bullet points above my head as I speak?

I cannot say that I am even that type of teacher. I just know that my students get what I say and they show me that they understand in the way that they play for me freely, honestly. In a way that makes me listen, hear them, and think ahhh. I knew that was the way you meant to play it.

Do I want another trophy or am I happy enough giving the kind of evaluation that will move a person to come to me and thank me for speaking from my heart? Doesnt that show that its NOT an exact formula of speech structure that wins people and trophies?

Anyway, that trophy is sitting in my living room. Ive been too busy to tell people about the competition. My car had broken down this past week, allergies have attacked me, my schedule is upside down and OH, for a space of a week, I enjoyed the possibility of being cast in a really cool commerical that mightve paid my rent for a year. But the client decided to take their campaign in a new direction and nix the script.

continue :)

Thursday, September 16, 2010

That Favorite Piano Teacher... Miss Hart

that favorite piano teacher …. miss hart



­­
I had just started kindergarten... or so the story goes... when I decided to accompany my brother to his piano lesson. He wasn't doing very well and knowing what a pill he can be sometimes, he probably started to act up and be a handfull. He was one of those hyperactive, move like a storm while destroying things clumsily, sort of boys.

Miss Hart must've been very patient and hopeful because she decided to take me on as a student. My brother is the first student that she's ever given up on, Miss Hart told my mom after she could no longer figure out ways to engage him. My brother spent the lesson time in protest.

I don't remember too many details of my piano lessons with Miss Hart. My mom tells me that I did well and that I would share what I was learning. I was five and was busy with learning how to read and write, do math and the zillion other things that take off with going to kindergarten. I simply remember that she was worthy of filing into my good memory bank. I've had many many music teachers since then; various piano coaches, vocal coaches, conducting, music theory, harmony, arranging, yada yada..... I studied a season on violin, on cello, a few on the clarinet and on guitar. I even spent some time toying with a trumpet and an oboe.

I've had many teachers. And it is Miss Hart who helped start the fire to blaze my love affair and life with music.

I don't know what's become of Miss Hart. I moved after a couple of years with her. But I do think of her and wonder if she remembers me. She'll probably remember my brother.­

I grew up and became a piano teacher. I meet many people with piano teacher stories. All of them regret not continuing. Some have stories how they were a terror to their teachers while others recall a nice old lady or a college grad that taught them for a spell.

I am hoping to make the nice memory file with my students as Miss Hart had with me.... and perhaps ignite something that will be part of their life.

Do you have a piano teacher story?

­JNET­

Leave a Comment

Monday, September 13, 2010

L’enfer C’est Les Autres

l’enfer c’est les autres


I received a beautiful email last night.


And I wondered what life lived in each word. So poignant, so eloquent, so moving. It breathed and sighed and went to my very core. I wanted to kiss it. I was dissolved.


It was perfect.


All that beauty and eloquence moving me was then suddenly attacked by a runaway train led by sycophants. It took those glorious words, threw them aside and mocked me with laughter.


Those on the train laughed and told me that I was naively gullible and that I deserved the pain I felt. They said the world had lots of dark surprises and that I needed to be angry and feisty. They said that I was too sweet and I will not survive if I continued being sweet for sweet things are meant to be devoured.


L'enfer c'est les autres.


I gave them only silence... When there was nothing left for them to laugh at, they rode away. Waving....


"Bye, sis!"


"You're great. Thank you."


"That was a lot of fun. See ya."


And I was reminded once again... that moving forward happens many times firstly by getting up from the dust. Sometimes, there is no cheering crowd to support and light the way.


Sometimes, the beginning begins from a lonely silence and you are the only voice.... and your throat is full of dirt and dust. And everything is up to you to declare that you are alive.


JNET


Leave a Comment

Fallen Figments

fallen figments



It was like experiencing a sunset that was so moving that it carved a memory into that place where I stored my favorite memories.

You have those days?

I have my favorites. Those special ones that confirmed the magic of life, like the time when the rain began to fall during a steamy summer afternoon while walking through the park with an ice cream cone in my hand. I remember how the sky crackled with electricity and the thunder rumbled from a distance...

Or an autumn at a New England lake collecting leaves of brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow. They looked so perfect; so beautiful that I filled a large envelop with them and mailed them to my mother.

Or that delicate morning walk that I breathed in the crisp winter air, marveling at the line of bare beautiful magnolia trees covered with a clear crystalline layer of ice. How I loved listening to the sound of snow under my feet and feel a snowflake land on my cheek.

Or the evening when the moon was so big and bright that I hiked a mile without a flashlight.

It's nice to have these memories live inside of me. I experienced all these magical moments (with the exception of the hike) alone.

It is rare that I have a moment like this with someone else. I usually find myself annoyed because the moment would be stolen away from the moon, the snowflakes or crunching of autumn leaves by the other person wanting to fill the silence with a joke, an impatient sigh of boredom or some word to disregard being present to the possibility of being filled with awe.

So imagine what it must have been like to actually feel awe and magic when its not the sunset, the moon or the trees that filled me with poetry but rather a person. And then imagine that poem getting filtered so that the ink to say the words was diluted that you couldn't put the words outside of you.

And that is what had become of a sunset that now fits between leaves and snowflakes where I have my favorite memories.

JNET

Leave a Comment

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Complex Meet Complicated

complex meet complicated


SEMANTICS: the language used to achieve a desired effect through the use of words with novel or dual meanings.

I don't mind a good brain workout toward winning a game, mastering a piano piece, or even taking on the extra mindfulness of handling a delicate conversation. To me something complex or intricate is also interesting and elegant and I would experience complex as I would a rollercoaster.

You ought to know that I ADORE rollercoasters... a masterful engineering of steel and hydraulics that uses physics for a calculated thrill equation. Complex is a good ride... sometimes fast with quick corners and sometimes climbing, building anticipation. Complex can be enjoyed on a sunny day and a serious aficionado will ride out on a rainy day.

COMPLEX: (biochemistry) an entity composed of molecules in which the constituents maintain much of their chemical identity

Complex creates an emotion in me that is of awe and curiosity. Complex has a certain fascinating slant; several. Edgey and complexy sexy....

Complex meet Complicated....

Complicated is not sexy or edgey at all. It snarls at Complex and promises a good fight. Complicated is not fun to sit through. Lacking the charisma and fascinating lure of Complexity, Complicated gains attentions by complaints and emotional hijackings that create a thrill of a different and darker sort.

I bring these two words up because so many people choose "complicated." I tend to choose complex. What you choose colors how you walk the path.

I decided to un-choose "complicated" people recently. The ride guaranteed frustration, disappointment and unsettling predictability. Complicated people also seem to have an unearned sense of entitlement over other people's time and patience as well as a lack of graciousness, autonomy and initiative to create balance.

One such person had a knack for needing to spew the miseries of her life on me ad nauseum. I found myself feeling ill - interrupted several times during a clockwork of desperation from her needing an audience. Just trying to be a sympathetic ear was challenging...

In the end, I find that a life liberally labeled as complicated is code for "don't question my life" just let me dump it on you.

Not to expect Life to be a ride on the teacups.... I just like it challenging enough to make me think and be creative... look forward to intricacies and enjoy fast corners.

Which would you choose? I have a gorgeous Bach piece that you may enjoy getting your hands on. One is complex. The other is complicated.

How do you color your world with your words?

Jnetsworld... clearing away complication.

JNET

Thursday, September 9, 2010

SPEECH (lightly roasting): Resident Alien - The Great Gordini



It's been a dream of mine to travel into outer space and explore the stars and galaxies.... and perhaps meet intelligent life... out there. Mind you that alien may be three feet tall with wide almond shaped eyes and pale clammy looking skin.

Fortunately, we have an alien in our midst and the Men In Black have just okay'd his visa for the next millenium. Can we please give a big hand to Mr. Gordon Limtiaco, Mr. Out of This World Himself.

Don't tell me that you didn't notice that Gordon here was DIFFERENT. He's been begging for you to know within every speech he gives. They've all been confessionals.

Let's look at his family. They look normal. But hadn't you considered the strangeness of how many times they've moved? Â It's suspicious.


Born in Cincinnati.

Go to the internet tonight, Cincinnati has been a hot spot of UFO sightings since the 1800's.

Moved to Shreveport, LA at age 5.

Why Gordon? You are just starting school.

Moved to Baton Rouge, LA at age 6.

What the heck, Gordon? You scared the kids in kindergarten?

Moved to Boise, Idaho at age 7.

How many families up and move each year? Â You make the Cullen vampire family look tame. Â I suspect that you ate raw meat or licked a classmate and freaked someone out.

Yes... Gordon eats raw meat. But, be assured he's not a killer though has a diverse appetite that would gross out a vulture. Â The man's favorite publication is Guideposts a religious magazine which he's been devouring for years and he is an atheist.

If your family was atheist, reading Guideposts would be grounds for kicking you out of the house. Â Gordon, you are an embarrassment to atheists around the world.

Stand close enough to Gordon and he may take a sniff at you and maybe take a lick and growl like a puppy. But he won't break the skin. Â Just stay still... sort of like playing dead.

Gordon is harmless though. Â HARMLESS. Â How can you be afraid of this man when he has a formidable movie collection of chick flicks would make a gay man blush?

Moved to Anchorage, AK at 11.

That is far. Your family is on the lamb? You safely stay there for a while. Your brother says that you went everywhere wearing two back packs. Two. One on front and the other on the back filled to full capacity. Â With what Gordon?

Moved to Los Angeles at 18.

This is a good place to be  strange. The actors provide a good smoke screen.

Gordon's first car was a black Cadi hearse... The Men in Black agents drive black Cadis. Gordon's always wanted to be a special agent. Â Look at him right now, he's wearing a black suit keeping the dream alive. Â Black is one of his favorite colors but he always get distracted that he disqualifies himself from being an agent due to a particular idiosyncrasy...

Gordon has a distracting fascination with numbers and it makes him measure everything. He can eyeball your height and weight. Anyone over 6 foot 3 gets a wow factor and he wants to take a picture like pulling Goofy in Disneyland for a photo op. This is not a quality to maintain intergalactic security.

Gordon's impeccable eye for measuring makes him a top notch funeral director. Where the saleperson at the dress boutique can look at you and know your size or the shoe person can look at your feet and bring out the right fit, Gordon looks at you and pictures you in the perfect casket.

Why couldn't you be a wedding planner? Our talks on diamonds and jewelry are about turning my carbon matter into a gem. It's true.. it can be done. Gordon's given me brochures.

Gordon likes to say that he'll appear normal as long as he doesn't open his mouth.  It took a while to get to know him.  He's a bit private but eventually he was sharing some of his chick flicks with me and I got to know a bit of his thoughts and found them disturbing.

Gordon is obsessed over doughnuts and sweets. Â Obsessed. Â You think eating raw ground meat is strange? Â Sundays, Gordon like to treat himself to a meal out in the town. Â Several meals. Â In one seating, he'll eat enough to feed a football team. Â Gosh, I wish I took pictures because I know it sounds unbelievable. Â And he keeps 20 pints of ice cream in his freezer. Â 20 pints! Â Gordon lives ALONE. Â And he prefers to eat it when it is melted into an ice cream soup.

I've known Gordon for several years now. This is the most normal I've ever known Gordon to be. Frankly, I'm surprised that I've known him this long what with his licking and sniffing habits. But he's been working on being normal and hasn't offended any of my friends in quite a while. Toastmasters has really helped him shine. He even has a girlfriend now. I cannot even imagine.... I am afraid to. She seduced him with a song reciting the Fibonacci series.

Gordon's given excellent speeches and you'll have to listen closer next time just don't stand too close. Being a toastmaster has given him new life; a normal one... one where he can enjoy ironically... being a bit more human.

JNET


Leave a Comment