This semester has drained me. I’ve been working an average of 30 hours a week for 5-6 weeks and going to school full time. It has definitely taken a toll on me, affecting my mood and making me feel exhausted for the majority of the day. I’m really not sure how I have lasted this long or how I haven’t cracked yet. I think it might be my determination or maybe it’s because I think I need to work hard then I am currently. The point being, I am constantly craving sleep. I try my best not to think about it, always telling myself that I feel great. For the most part, it works like a charm. But recently, about this time of day (4 pm) I feel like I was hit by a truck. At this time of day, I am either in Musicianship class or at work and today I’m at work. Currently, the only thing keeping me going is my paycheck and the thought of these ridicules work and school schedules coming to an end. I dream of going to USC and having a more cushy schedule with loads of time to practice and socialize. That is what I’m working for. With that being said, most of my anxiety comes from the thought of me never getting there. Part of me says I’m a shoe in, I’ve worked hard for a good GPA and I play well enough, and the other part says that not many people get into USC. I’m choosing not to listen to either of them, to just keep working hard. But as my social life hangs on by a thread, my body getting in progressively worse shape, and my sleep deprivation getting worse, It’s becoming more difficult to motivate myself. But I keep pushing on because I don’t give up, and anything is possible.
I’m applying to USC and I’m scared. Fortunately, my mom has worked been employed at USC for almost 30 years. This means that my tuition is covered for one degree, either a bachelors or master degree. But the part I’m scared about is getting in. The Tuba studio is very competitive. Although the rumors of them letting everyone who auditioned in last semester is true, there is no guarantee that they’ll do this again this semester. I can only hope. I have been making significant advancements in my playing, sound is improving and range is more natural. So long as I keep on this path, I’ll be able to concur the world of Tuba. But my audition piece will most likely be the first movement of the Bruce Broughton Tuba Concerto. I have already gotten the first two pages, 7/8ths of the piece, at half tempo and am feeling very confident I can have it prepared by January. But the more pressing matter is that I should be taking a lesson with Jim Self, tuba extraordinaire. Jim Self is the man to impress if I want to get into the studio. I have also taken a less than successful lesson with Norm Pearson. It didn’t go very well. But it was more than a year ago now, so I’m sure he wont hold it against me given that I sound 10 times better than last he heard me. All of this is very exciting but nerve racking all at once. I just need to get in and then I’ll be taken care of. But as of right now, I need to buckle down and continue studying hard. The only class giving me trouble is my English class. The teacher is knew and the entire class is failing, I’m sure she is going to curve the grades anyway, but I have to get my 64% up to at least a 70%. I’m sure I can do it. Wish me luck everybody!
Everybody has a few people that can make them smile and laugh without struggle. Many times we only realize it when there is some kind of push and pull of tempo, trying to highlight the funny or charming of conversation. But the times that don’t require a push or pull in tempo, the people that make us smile without realizing it, the people who make us feel better without either parties realizing what happened, those are the truly special people. The lovely thing is that you don’t have to know them, just be able to communicate. One specific example is someone who I’m now calling my friend, Lucy. Lucy was introduced to me the summer after my high school graduation, at a beach party for all my close friends. Ironically, another good friend of mine, Lucy, introduced me to this other Lucy. I didn’t talk much to this new Lucy, we only exchanged smiles and expressions. But every time we ran into each other after that, she’d always send me off in a better mood. We now attend the same community college, and she became a barista where I get my coffee, daily. She was instantly charming and I was smiling. Sure, she’s cute. But I don’t think that I smile because of that.
Another person who makes me smile without fail is my best friend, Will. Will is an interesting guy. He is a Music and English major and plays the Tuba. He dresses as if he is a hipster and the ladies are typically drawn to him. But as much as he tries not to be, he is a total goof. The irony in it all is he is the biggest intellectual I know. He is fluent in college level calculus and already has his Associates degree in English. He constantly thinks philosophical thoughts and enjoys listening to gypsy jazz. And although he tries to be funny, it’s he himself that makes you smile. Not in a rude way; not because he’s wearing Toms without socks, red Chinos, a Hawaiian shirt, a pink hat, and has an earring, but because he lightens up the situation. He give the vibe that things are okay.
People like them make everything okay. They make the world go round and smiles abundant. With that, I want to say that it isn’t those people who just have that power, it’s how I perceive them. And somehow, I think I am that person for some people. Everyone is that person that can make another smile just in random conversation. So I ask that we all smile at one another, because you never know if you’ll make their day better just for a moment if not more. Be the person that makes people smile.
My mother raised me to always open doors for women and to allow them to enter a doorway before you do. Those two things have served me well in life so far. Only once have I encountered someone offended by me opening the door for them and then standing aside, waiting for her to enter. She said, “I can get the door for myself, you know”. I said nothing and smiled. That brings me to why I’m writing this opening doors blog. I believe that opening doors for one another can be a good way to exercise compassion. Additionally, it gives one another a sense of connection. The only flaw is that some might feel rushed or perhaps belittled by having the door held for them. To that, I saw that sorry and that I don’t feel right doing anything else. But most times, opening doors or rather, holding doors for people will result in an exchange in smiles.
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Earlier today, I was walking into a fast food restaurant and their were to people in front of me. Another younger college student, an elderly man on a scooter, and I. The young college student opened the door ever so slightly, just enough for him to enter and let the door shut. The elderly man on the scooter had no way of getting into the restaurant. Fortunately, I was able to open the door for him so he could enter. Two things came to mind after that, why didn’t the restaurant have electronic doors for the disabled and how could someone be so careless of others? Please be considerate of others. We can not allow yourself the luxury of carelessness, otherwise we are no better than apes. I fear that when I may be in a scooter, as an elderly man, nobody would care to help me with something as simple as holding the door for me.
“Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough, he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself.” – George Orwell, Animal Farm
“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.” – George Orwell, Animal Farm
Since I’ve finished Persepolis and posted my review, I have started reading the classic Animal Farm by George Orwell. I have read about half of the book, currently at page68. I have already received the heavy political motive of the book. So far, I am enjoying the read. Reading Animal Farm has allowed me to think more political thoughts and I’m not sure I’m a fan. Being that I am a born and raised Californian, having grown up in Los Angeles has painted me a liberal in many ways. But my review of the book may show otherwise. I have found that I am able to spend more quality time with the book since it is so short. I look forward to reading the book at least once over.
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As far as my week, it has been going okay, nothing much has changed. I am still struggling to get an adequate amount of sleep and have been scrambling for time to practice, but thus is life I suppose. My goal for this week is to get at least 6 hours of sleep every day. If I can do that, then anything is possible.
Who doesn’t enjoy a nice cup of coffee? Like many, I enjoy the daily cup of coffee during the week. I work two jobs and go to school full time, so coffee is a must for me. The issue I have is that caffeine becomes a crutch for me. I often get less than 8 hours of sleep during the week and am constantly waking up early and going to bed relatively late. Just today, I woke up at 4:45 am and won’t be home till about 9:15 pm. These type of days are normal for me. In order to keep up with my daily grind, my morning coffee is a Grande Pike from Starbucks accompanied by a Zero Calorie Rockstar in the early afternoon. This amount of caffeine is dangerously close to my daily caffeine limit of roughly 700 mg, the coffee and energy drink at a total of 600 mg. Already, 600 mg is more than you would want anyway, but I’m a big guy. I come in at 260 lb and about 25-30% body fat; I’m fairly muscular and enjoy going to the gym frequently. Which brings me to pre-workoutsupplements. Just briefly, pre-workout supplements are basically energy drinks that typically improve focus and pump (or contraction) during the workout. These pre-workouts supplements normally have around 300 mg of caffeine and can mess you up if you have as much caffeine as I do in a day. This brings me to the inspiration for my writing this. I became dependent on caffeine and suffered through some withdrawals. I was running late to class and didn’t have time to stop for my daily cup of coffee. Once noon hit, I was hit by a massive headache and I felt very queasy. These awful symptoms carried on over night and lessened in the morning. Once I realized what was going on, I slowly decreased my daily caffeine intake. Having coffee, a energy drink, and pre-workout daily is not a good idea. I highly recommend that everyone pay attention to your caffeine intake, especially for the younger people. A 19 year old like myself shouldn’t be over doing the caffeine.
My grandma, like many others, has had a long and difficult life. Born and raised in Mexico, she started working at a young age and never finished her schooling. At the age of 12 or so, she went to work in a factory with her mother and continued working in the factory for 5 more years. She then married my grandfather, moving away from her home and starting a family. She then worked as a seamstress for many years. She gave birth to my first uncle, Gerry, when she was about 20 years old. Then came my mother, 4 years after my first uncle followed by my second uncle 5 years after my mother. In Mexico, my grandfather was a state bus driver. He drove the public buses and described it to be a lot like how the Metro works. (Metro is one of the public buses we have, here in LA). This paid very well and my family lived well in Mexico. But things things took a turn for the worst when my grandfathers father died. My grandparents then decided to move up north to start a new and better life for their 3 children. My grandma was then left to take care of her 3 children while my grandfather received a Visa to go look for work in the US. Once my grandfather found a job, my grandmother began planning her departure for the US. This is when it gets hairy, the Mexican Government denied my grandmother, uncles and mother permission to leave Mexico. So my grandma did what she had to do and my family left for the border of Mexico. Fortunate for my family, my grandfather had a friend who ran a business that helped certain families get across the border. My family didn’t physically jump the border, rather they were driven straight across the border in the usual way, just illegally. Now my grandparents had the huge task of finding steady jobs to raise their 3 children. Some how, they managed to raise 3 children while my grand made 25 cents an hour, and my grandma made 45 cents an hour. These numbers might not be exact but both my grandparents made less than a dollar an hour for years. They saved all of their money and spent it very carefully. Both their sons and their daughter made it through middle school and high school without getting into drugs, alcohol, or gangs. They all went on to a trade school and are now making a very good living in their respective fields. My grandma is now 77 years.
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My grandma has taught me a lot about life. Even at her advanced age, she is always cooking and cleaning, always making sure everyone in the house is fed. Ever since she and my grandpa moved in with my mom and I, she has asked me if I’d like something to eat at a minimum of 4 times a day. She mops the floor, vacuums, sweeps the patio, collects the trash, and cleans the bathroom every single day. And she will not let you do any of these tasks by yourself while shes at home. Most times when she sees me making something to eat, she’ll slowly start to “help” and then swiftly takes over. She has always done this with a smile and a kindness like no other. She has always told me that hard work will always pay off ten fold. She has become the best at everywhere she worked and has the scares and lifelong callused hands to prove it. She has also taught me how to be patient. This was more of a lesson I learned by myself, with her. She speaks Spanish and very little English. Although she understands a lot of English, I do my best to speak to her in Spanish. But I didn’t always know Spanish. When I was first learning Spanish, I was easily frustrated because she didn’t understand me and I didn’t her. I also had to learn to walk slowly and eventually how to appreciate walking slowly. My grandparents have taught me to do many things, but the thing that stands out the most as of this moment is, they have taught me to care for people. In their advanced age, they have had many moments where getting up to use the bathroom, walking, sleeping, eating, even seeing was a challenge or impossible. I am fortunate to say that I was there for them through all of it. I helped them get up when their legs failed them. I carried him when he couldn’t walk to the restroom and cleaned up when she couldn’t make it to the restroom. I stayed up when they couldn’t sleep. I prepared the food and fed them when they were too weak to do it themselves. And I guided them when they couldn’t see the things in front of them. My grandparents mean the world to me, and I know I mean the world to them. So when I feel like I can’t get up in the morning for school or work, I remember what my grandma said about hard work. When I get tired and stressed over College, my grandma always dreamt of going to college. Thank you, grandma.
Hey all! Day two of continuous blogging, going strong. I am currently at work and am waiting for more invoices to process. Also, the IT guy said he’d be here an hour ago to allow me to download drivers for my printer. **side note: I can’t download anything from online. Some documents can’t be downloaded.**
Disclaimer! This is only me writing about my experience and is meant to be food for thought. I am no expert, although I do have some experience. Additionally, the Tuba is a very different instrument than any of the other brass instruments and must be approached in a special way. Enjoy.
So tuba stuff. Recently, I have been having some issues with my face. Specifically my embouchure. I am working on trying to engage my corners or my embouchure. Before, I had been using pressure on the mouthpiece to compensate for the lack of embouchure strength/usage. Now, I have been successful in engaging more of my embouchure and have been using increasingly less pressure on the mouthpiece. This process of less pressure has been slow going. I started a few weeks ago and have learned that it isn’t something you can just do in one practice session. You must constantly remind yourself to ease up on the instrument, being sure not to push in any more than needed to get a sound on the horn.
Yesterday, I had a lesson with Beth Mitchell and the focus of the lesson was on the concept of easing up on the horn and taking a step back. What this involved was me playing something, taking my mouthpiece out and buzzing the same thing, emphasizing the quality of the buzz and getting a full sound. In order to get this full sounding buzz, you must think of aiming for the center of the note. Once you find the center of the note and buzz, the buzz will automatically become fuller and louder. Just like when you get perfectly in-tune chords, they become louder. It’s merely the overtones resonating. Once this is achieved, we then put the mouthpiece back into the horn and play, aiming for the same center of the note. This, for some reason, made all the difference in the sound I was getting. Beth even went as far to say that, “you sounded like a professional”. At this point I was filled with emotion, not only because of the incredible complement, Beth doesn’t give those complements to just anyone, but because I was also confused as to why buzzing worked this time.
Buzzing can be an amazing tool for every brass player. The reason why buzzing is questioned by Tubist and some low brass players is because it doesn’t even use the same muscles or embouchure that we use while playing. The reason being, there is little to no resistance in the instrument and mouthpiece. So it begs the question, how does it help when it doesn’t really train or work with any of the muscles on our face? I came to the conclusion that it changes how we think of what we are doing with our face. Something that I heard or felt on my face was different and was an improvement. Some reasons why buzzing tends to not help, other than the fact that it doesn’t engage the embouchure the same way, is that you must be able to engage the embouchure in the first place. How can you be successful in engaging a muscle that you can not see? This leads to students pushing into the mouthpiece and making a “fake full” buzz. Be open minded in your approach to buzzing.
So, if you read my lasts slice of life post, you might have expected me to post a week ago. As we have all experienced, life gets in the way from time to time. Long story short, I worked 32 hours last week while being a full time student and was forced to participate in family events. But all said and done, I enjoyed my family and this is a new week. This Saturday will be Evike’s Annual Airsoft Con! Airsoft Con is a convention that is normally involves the unveiling of new airsoft gear, prototypes to be tested, airsoft shooting range,and a bunch of give away’s. It’ll be my 4th year attending and has been a tradition with my friends. For those of us who are unaware, airsoft is a game that is similar to paintball. Many people know the toys as BB Guns, but airsoft guns are much more powerful and are more like replicas of real guns. They look scary to some and have caused a lot of scare and general concern due to some unfortunate instances of brandishing. But airsoft players know the laws and respect them very much. The sport as a whole is a very tight niche community where players generally respect the rules of the game and the law of the nation. Anyhow, this will be especially special because I’ll be able to buy a gun for myself with my own money. I have been able to buy a gun for a year now but I finally have a job, two actually, and I’ve been waiting for this day for 4 years. I don’t have anything in mind but I like that I have the luxury of kinda just window shopping for it. There will also be raffles, give away’s, and most importantly, FOOD TRUCKS.
Marjane Satrapi‘s graphic novel, Persepolis is written autobiographically and speaks of a time of war between country’s and a war within. This has to be one of the strongest pieces of literature I have come across thus far. Reading the text made me appreciate the life I live and has made me reevaluate a few things in life. Satrapi talks about how she lived through the Iranian Revolution while living in Iran. The sudden change of government meant that women were now forced to wear veils and to be submissive and “modest”. Satrapi discusses the hardships she faces in the early years of the war, having her neighbors bombed, food shortages, and losing friends. The war and Satrapi’s constant rebellious nature encourages her parents to send her to Europe to live a better life. In Europe, things don’t get much better, within a few weeks Satrapi finds herself living in a boarding house with Nuns. Satrapi, gets kicked out of the boarding home after a Nun insults Iranians and Satrapi responded swiftly. This was the first of Satrapi’s moves in Europe. Not long after, a boy asked Satrapi out to dinner and although he wasn’t any prince charming, he was interested in Satrapi when no one else seemed like they were. After two years of a heavy romantic relationship, Satrapi finds her lover in bed with some other girl. Devastated Satrapi decides to run away and become a drifter, sleeping on the tram and on the sleep while preparing dinner using the available garbage. Satrapi does this for 2 months before she decides it’s time to go home and finally returns home after 4 years. She finds that the war devastated and much has changed within the country. Satrapi finds it difficult to relate to her old friends, all while feeling guilty that she hasn’t told her parents about what happened in Europe. Satrapi attempts to take her own life, but when she fails, she realizes that it is better to better herself than destroy herself. She soon later attends an art school and meets her future husband. She begins to speak her mind in school and gets in trouble for it, landing her in a meeting with the Islamic convention. She is tasked with designing a new uniform for female students. Satrapi’s attitude doesn’t change and her standing with the school doesn’t change. She goes on to marry this boy and is happy for all of a few weeks. The couple begging fighting and within a month they are sleeping in separate beds. For one of Satrapi’s finale school projects, she’s tasked with designing a theme park with her husband. She realizes that they work well together when they are both distracted and busy with a project. Divorce looks more and more appealing. She decides to divorce her husband and to leave the country for good.
Where was my mother to stroke my hair? Where was my grandmother to tell me that lovers, I would have had them by the dozen? Where was my father to punish this boy who dared hurt his daughter? Where? 28:8
Persepolis brought a lot of anxiety to my thoughts. Like there wasn’t enough to go around up there. I would not recommend this book to any of my friends who have confided in me there anxiety. Many younger, more hormonal person would relate greatly with this book. Many of my personal fears were tied in with this book, like being homeless and being on my own. I would recommend this book to those interested in the Iranian revolution and or for cultural interests. I enjoyed my time with this book.
Tuba for thought? 