I Rule My World!

I have been a part of one of the worst performances in town… (yes, one of the many, indeed, and last night was one of it). In fact, I am so acquainted with it I could even give you myriads of ways to ruin your performance, and make the life of the audience (and yours) a living hell. So read on, and take my word for it.

1. Don’t practice. As in, don’t! Book an appointment to perform but don’t rehearse for it. Getting ready would just be a waste of time, besides, you’ve performed this already. So give yourself a break.
2. If and when the circumstances force you to practice, don’t put your mind on it. Let your mind wander around–think of the latest movie you watched, or the conversation you had with your dog. Usually it’s easier to think about these than the nuances you have to deal with in the piece, so please don’t give your brain a hard time.
3. Make sure you don’t know the piece in its entirety. It will all piece itself together on the performance.
4. If performing with somebody, don’t practice with them. They can get by without you. As I said in #1, it’s all a waste of time. Show up on the performance, and not on the rehearsal. You are already a great musician so you don’t need all that rehearsing.
5. Spend the precious hours (or minutes) before performance for some quality time on the phone. Yak about your latest gigs and crushes. Or spend a lot of time on your make-up, hair and gown. This is the night! Look good!
6. Then again it’s better if you forget your gown at home.
7. Borrow someone else’s make-up. Don’t use up all of your own.
8. Don’t focus. Never focus. Hello, focus…what’s that?!?
9. If performing as a member of the choir:

• Don’t look at the choirmaster.
• Smile at the people you know in the audience.
• Give an occasional wave in case they don’t notice you.
• Mumble on the words. Justify that the audience don’t understand Latin anyway (or any of language you are incoherently mumbling at this time).
• Choreography is your ticket to fame. Make sure your actions are different from the rest.
• Foreground, background–who cares??? Let the others worry about it, just do your own thing.
• Don’t lip sync. Sing your heart out. Yes, belt it out, baby!
• Don’t hit that high note, hang onto it.
• Try to sing on a different pitch, better yet, try out a different tonality at every phrase of the song.

10. If performing as an intrumentalist (particularly piano):

• You don’t have to try and do something on stage. Just play from your heart.  Then somewhere in between, your lack of rehearsal will practically catch up on you, and you’re sure to have some of those memory gaps they advertise in TV.
• As you try to piece together the parts you unseemingly rehearsed previously, play a measure over and over again, until you know what to do next.
• Or go back to the beginning and play as fast as you can.
• Better yet, stop for a while, and look at the score.
• You forget the last chord. To hell with the dominant and the tonic. End on a German 6th, or whatever out-of this-world chords you can think of. Remember, you are creative.

Then maybe, like Max Bialystock in the movie The Producers, you’ll get lucky even if you’ve done the biggest flop on the history of musical performances. Kudos.

Since I’m resting my eyes from reading I might as well let my brain run the next mile to wherever it wants to go. Take the lead, nutshell..

The Doctrine of Ethos..it keeps echoing in my subconscious. The Greeks. Plato, Aristotle, Ptolemy, Pythagoras..They all were fascinated with music. Believed it to be supernatural–magical, even! Pythagoras was alluded to the mathematical laws that bounded sound. He even discovered musical ratios that the hammers pounding on an anvil in a blacksmith shop led to his discovery of the overtones. Plato insisted that life should be a balance of gymnastics and music (something I am heavily guilty about). Too much music makes a man effeminate and neurotic, while too much gymnastics makes a man brutish, ignorant, and uncivilized. Wow, such heavy sanctions for a person leading an imbalanced life. While I lack the gracefulness and charming qualities of femininity, I might as well be neurotic. Hahaha, what a sad life a musician’s life is. Cultural cliches. That’s what we all are. Stop. Mind goes blank, then distracted by the carpenter working on the garage outside my window. Lunchbreak is almost over and he’s back to start the racket. Maybe, I will hear something else and make-up a theory of my own–on what? Lucid tones? My mind is lucid. That’s what.
Back to the Doctrine of Ethos. Heck, I haven’t even started really thinking about it. I picture the youth of today. And I am, thankfully, still a part of it. Lucky generation to have such a plethora of music to choose from. But then, not are all so lucky to have the sound mind to choose which is good to listen to. A lot of people today go for what everybody likes–what’s famous and what’s hot. Unfortunately, the choice of the mass is not always the good thing. The Greek philosophers made sure that their words of wisdom were recorded–music affects thought and behavior. and basically, what you listen to is what you are. I remember Stolba’s passage on the use of music in military wars. One strategy was that musicians will play the kind of music that weakens the mind of the opponent. Something that was played clearly not on the Dorian mode. Brilliant! But what happened to the musicians themselves? Look at the life of the rock stars? Are they worth idolizing over? A person might try to excuse himself that he merely listens to it for enjoyment…then poor him. He is ignorant to the fact that the music takes it toll.  Garbage in, garbage out.Stop. Mind goes blank again. I hear the roof making a loud bang as it hit the cemented floor. The carpenter grunts. The fan whirrs incessantly..

Mind is still blank. Time to hit the books again..

Not so very recently, but not so very long ago either, a Half-Russian, Half Spanish music graduate of Columbia Union College by the name of Peter Lombard visited the AUP music department. His visit was mostly expected because he was coming to audition students who are interested to study in US, particularly CUC. He came and offered a rather lucrative scholarship, thus gathering quite a large number of interested applicants. To make the long story short, 15 out of the 19 auditionees were accepted. I was privileged to be one of them. Who in his right mind would let this chance-of-a-lifetime pass? It was handed to me in a silver platter, or so i thought, so better make use of it. Won’t hurt, right?
I wrote them (CUC Admissions Office), and they wrote back–until finally they cannot answer my question, and referred me back to Peter Lombard for specific answers. His email was given, and that’s where a little bit of fun started…

Peter Lombard: Hello Irene, I
suspect you have emailed me in error.  I have nothing to do with
auditions or CUC.  Please recheck the email address you were given.
Thank you.
Me: …so now i’m officially confused. Here is the letter I received from Mr. Scriven. I clicked the email ad, and wrote you. 
Below is a copy of his letter.

            Jonathan
Peter Lombard: Sorry, that’s my name and email address, but there must be another Peter Lombard out there that Mr. Scriven is referring to.
Me: ok..so which Peter are you? Sorry..
Peter Lombard: I don’t know who Mr. Scriven
is or who he was referring to, or who you are so you’ll understand my
apprehension about providing any additional information about myself if
I don’t have to.  Thanks.
Me: Ok. Thanks anyway. I hope I find the real one. Didn’t know there were
several Peter Lombards..let alone two different Peters that share the
same email address. Cool.
Peter Lombard: Good luck. I can assure you that I’m the only one with this email
address. But it is likely there are many Peter Lombard’s in this world.

Anyway, for the fun of it, I googled his name, and true to his word, there are many Peter Lombards in this world. "Where art thou, my Pedro, yooohooo??!!"

I got home sweating like a pig after a 10-kilometer hike. I am oh-so late for the 4 pm call time for this ‘sudden’ Ambassadors’ appointment. Grrr, I blame my being a female member of the choir for it certainly hoards up a lot of disadvantages. For one thing, we have all these fancy uniforms which are very hard to iron. And then there’s the case of putting make-up on, all of which takes up a lot of time and slows me down quite extensively. However, after a hasty pat here and there, I don the freshly ironed, light blue sequined top and balloon purple skirt, wear the high-heeled sandals, and hike back to AUP. I curse this hell I am in. I definitely hate this kind of rush. I hate cancelling my other appointments just to accommodate a sudden ‘important event’ (for any Amba appointment is always an ‘important event’ to consider). Yet as I get on the bus, share jokes with the rest of the singers, and sing my heart out, every trace of hell is forgotten. A familiar feeling of tranquility sets in…

I will always remember the moment I stepped in college, I knew I wanted to be a part of this elite group. It was in the top 5 items in my wish list and I was going to do everything to get in. So to cut on all the yadas and blahs, I got in. Little did I know that I was in for a hell of a wild ride. As I’ve realized now, the "getting in" is easy and "staying in" is tough. I got in during the time they were preparing for the 2nd US tour (2000). Being a newbie, I couldn’t help but get mesmerized by the rehearsals, camaraderie, uniforms, performances, popularity, and special treatment. However, as the precious semesters go by, I found out that the special things the old members were experiencing were things I have to sweat for. And to say that I worked my ass off would have been an understatement.

Ahhh, those probational months were a sure torture. I would have to constantly motivate myself that I’m good enough to stay, good enough to perform with them, good enough to wear the uniforms, good enough to whistle the ‘theme song’ (la sol la fa re fa!) –and be whistled to, and good enough to proudly say to my friends, “Hey, I’m a member of the Ambassadors!”. My lunch breaks meant rehearsing Waray-waray, Old Mac Donald’s Farm, and the other choreographed songs in front of the mirror. The early morning jogging required for PE-1 meant extra time to memorize “E’en So Lord Jesus Quickly Come” and other sacred pieces (and that’s why I would always be the last one to finish). I learned to compartmentalize ideas because I had to listen to the class lectures, then take notes, while I had “Narito” in the other hand, glancing at it once in a while, and running several passages of it in my head, just to be prepared for the up and coming traditional Valentine concert. Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday evenings will always have to be reserved. No other appointment is more important than the rehearsals except a sudden death in the family. Even sickness had to be of a severe condition before one can be excused. Free weekends were not a commodity. And on appointmentless weekends, potlucks and Bible studies were conducted. This was ‘A non-musical bonding session that nobody should miss’, as the group president kept emphasizing.

And I will never forget my first performance with the Ambassadors. It was in the Philippine International Church during AUP Day and the group had to sing “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” and “How Great Thou Art”. I knew I memorized it the night before and could even sing it without copy during the rehearsal. Why then did I have a sudden memory gap? I sang on the men’s lines, I ‘oohed’ instead of ‘aahed’, and most of the lyrics just faded into complete oblivion. The word ‘watermelon’ did not even seem to work (and of course, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious was out of the question). It was just one big complete mess…at least for me and not the choir.

It ate a big chunk of my time. I missed a handful of family reunions, acquaintance parties, soap operas, and other organizations I would have also dreamed of joining. There was even the offer of being part of this popular organization in the campus who invited me to be one of their officers with the condition of quitting the Ambassadors. It was a hard decision, partly because the “love of my life” was a member of that organization and had been convincing me that my choral career was worth giving up. However, after several months, the organization almost disbanded, and the “love of my life” found himself a smart-eyed girlfriend.

It was also because of the Amba that I got my one and only B minus. For all those AUP students who had Atty. San Joaquin for a teacher, you would very well know the consequence of absences. Oh, for the love of a high grade, I would have to drag myself and endure the ranting and raving of the great professor. So how did Amba affect my grades, you ask? As I’ve mentioned earlier, this choir is quite fond of mushroom appointments, which cost me several, unexcused, without-warning absences in class. While other teachers are very understanding, the great professor will always and forever be unique in his classroom rules.

Yet despite the mishaps, its funny how I always find a reason to be with the group. With the majority of my time spent with them, I got used to the discipline that I hardly call it torture anymore, a kind of discipline that permeated my personal life. I learned to organize my time, manage social-interpersonal skills, proper courtesy (aha!), graceful demeanor (while being barako at the same time), and conquer stage fright. Without realizing it, I find myself one of the old members enjoying the roller-coaster ride. Yes, I still scream here and there when the ride gets tough, but the scream was inevitable. I need it to remain sane.

Summer is almost over and despite the despicable and annoying heat of the sun, I believe I’ve had more exciting experiences than all the forces of heat combined.

1. My relatives visited from Canada…and everything we did was just a blast! From shopping at Greenhills, Carriedo, MOA, and SM, to the not-so-wild-rides of Enchanted Kingdom. Then countless sleepovers, midnight snacks, movie marathons, buklo, and just plain chillin’ out.
2. I’ve had enough piano students to make me earn in two months the salary of five months combined.
3. I was able to attend the first Asia Suzuki Conference in the Philippines. Thanks to the generous heart of Mrs. Arambulo who gave me an amazing discount. It was there that I rediscovered and replenished my love for  the job I already have. Indeed, I got one of the coolest jobs in the world. My heart was a-tumbling over when I witnessed those little Mozarts…ah, what a wonderful world!
4.I got accepted in the two schools I applied for!!! Indeed..my american dream. :-p

I got three weeks to spare and the best is yet to come. Huzzah..huzzah!

I am coming back, refreshed and revived from five days of mingling with kids who have acquired a deep passion for classical music, with teachers who have found happiness in honing these passions, and with all the "Suzuki people" in the conference, who in one way or another have affected me positively.
Braving my way through the hassles of public commute from Pasay to Mandaluyong, the classes held at LaSalle Greenhills provided a temporary haven for my fatigued body.But if it it’s the price I pay for letting a bit of "greatness" that the teachers possess rub on me, then it is not enough. Oh, I just bask in the glory of the piano teachers, most especially Ruth Miura, who handled the kids with supah-lotsa patience. I realized during the past five days that I like that kind of job..working with kids, sharing and making music. But then, liking it is not enough. I remember Mimay telling me that while she enjoyed the whole conference, a bit of her seems to tell her that she’s not cutout for that kind of job. Patience seems to be running low when it comes to kids. I asked myself how do you know if you’re cutout for something, anyway?  Would enjoying it be the only basis of a career path? She related to me her experiences with SPED kids and the other kids she teaches piano to. Is it something she wants to do for the rest of her life? Is it something I would like to do for the rest of my life?
Over the weekend, I kept mulling over what I really wanted to do. I have applied for a master’s degree in music education, with concentration in organ. I have a pending application for another bachelor’s degree. I have piano students everyday, I have choir rehearsals, I have collaborative performances in the next month, I practice the organ. I grab opportunities as they come along (well, except my love life–because there was this certain person who I let get away, and so far, I haven’t regretted that decision), and let them lead me to wherever. I decided to enjoy what I do in the meantime. Something’s bound to happen sooner that might change my routine for a little while.
Well, today, something did.

This one is one heck of a long blog so make sure you’re sitting comfy, and got lots of time to spare or money, if you’re renting the computer…So here goes my day:

After a long morning of adult beginner students and one Suzuki Bk 1 kid, I rushed via public ride (a mad scram for the rare jeepneys that pass by the AUP campus, then a chasing of the bus at Balibago, then another jeepney ride) to the Mall of Asia lest I would be late for the 3pm call time.
Around 2:30, i realized I haven’t eaten lunch yet–thus the grumbling of my stomach became more eminent at every passing minute. I ate at the nearest McDonalds food chain and ordered (for the first time in a very long time) a Big Mac and a Bubble Gum Float. I have sweared meat burgers off my system quite a few months ago but I guess my hunger got the worse of me, and made me a mad carnivorous for that split moment of my life.
Turned out that 3pm call time was much delayed than I had expected. There were so many kids (75 of them), and it was hard to control them, especially when the heat of the sun (we we’re in the open air section of the mall) was being unbearable. The concert was supposed to start at 5pm, but there were so many little things that was needed to be done, so I gave myself the liberty to visit the nearby bookstores. Powerbooks had so many new books that I haven’t seen in other stores. I had been tempted to buy three books authored and printed by UP students, but my budget was way limited for the price of each one. I had to force myself to put them down and tell myself that I don’t need to buy them at that time. Why do books hold me in a trance every time I pick them up and read the synopsis? Anyhow, I realized I needed to get back to the Music Hall and check if they have started already.
They haven’t. So off I went to Book Sale. I have had so many luck in this store so I might as well indulge myself while I got the time. But there was no Robert Fulghum in sight, nor any award-winning children’s story books (yes, I do enjoy children literature) that caught my restless eyes. I settled myself with 3 books that I might use for small group and classroom activities..three book for the price of that one book I saw at Powerbooks. Once again, I consider myself lucky for such a find.
Finally, the program started with much ado. A half and an hour late, at that! I would be playing in the second part of the program so I have a good hour and a half to get settled down with the books I bought. But I kept getting distracted with this little kid who choose to squeeze himself every so often between my knees and the chair in front of it, so I had to postpone reading and listen to the concert.
What an awful sound system! The orchestra was barely audible. All I can hear was a giant mass of sound with no shape whatsoever. There would be one stray melody here and there, just enough for me to recognize the piece, but not enough to make me appreciate the phrases, the intricate runs, the counterpoint, and the music as a whole. Then I had another worry. The concert has to end at 7pm because I remember, I had to watch a Madz et al Festival Series Concert at PhilamLife that was to start at 7:30pm. I already got the ticket and was pledged to pay for it by hook or by crook. But the first part ended at 8:15, and by that time I was sure I cannot be a superhero and rush to UN Avenue at the soonest time the violin concert finishes. Second part–and the first piece was the allegro con fuoco movement from Veracini’s Sonata in E minor. I was doubting my agility prowess despite the endless practice because I had to use an electronic keyboard instead of the acoustic one I got myself used to. By the time I was playing the Bach concertos, I was getting so used to improvising the runs and playing the bass line alone at the unsure parts. Add to the chaotic playing the strong gust of wind that suddenly blew the piece from the page turner’s hand (Not a Ms. Spelke this time, thankfully!), which made me stop for quite a number of bars. On the whole assessment, the concert, while it was not a smashing success–because it started really late, and ended very late; then there were lots of silent gaps and it lacked the fluidity required of a regular classical concert–just the same, the kids and the parents all enjoyed the performance high.
During the ride back home, we were calculating how much the violin teacher was earning monthly on a regular school day, and how much he earned at the camp. We got a whopping 5 figures for the monthly basis, and 6 figures for the violin camp alone–and many people even say that one cannot earn a lot in teaching music! It made me think a lot of how I go about my business of teaching piano. I have never really  been serious when it comes to money matters. They pay at the end of the month, that’s good. They don’t–i don’t reprimand them to. I let them slack financially. I don’t keep a strict accounting of what I get and what I spend, thus, I don’t feel that I am being compensated enough for what I do. Just before I got home, I have come up with a brilliant idea to boost my job and the money that goes with it. I don’t do scams, so don’t get the wrong idea.
Anyhow, at least, all’s well that ends well.