05 June 2007

On Moving Beyond

As we reflected on the end of the school year this evening, my brother and I explored the extent to which one's maturity develops once high school has passed by, and how great a person's connection to their high school as an entity or institution affects their perceived maturity.

My time in high school was many things. Educational, probing, trying, satisfying. Certainly, my best moments were with the marching band during my senior year, as this allowed me to focus several of my best facets on one activity-the need to lead, the ability to perform, the desire to succeed. I made some wonderful acquaintances during that time, learned some things about others that otherwise never would have surfaced, and generally found it to be a very worthwile experience. As with everything else about high school, I eventually tired of it. One of the clearest feelings in my life was had during my last weeks as a high schooler-the feeling that it was time, in a very real sense, to move forward, to put aside what at that time seemed little more than petty dramatics to move into that strange and challenging realm of the college student. While that feeling has certainly mellowed, and while I now regard college life as my frame of reference for "normal," and regard my years in high school as fond memories, I feel no direct emotional attachment to, nor desire to revisit, those days. I take this as a sign that I've matured, in a sense-that I can better acknowledge change, hunger for what the future brings, and enjoy my memories while living in the now with an eye on the future. If nothing else, the college life has allowed me to develop a confidence that I never had in high school. That, among the many other learning experiences I've had this year, make me wonder how anyone who's gone to a higher educational institution can ever yearn for the comparatively dull days of HS ever again.

Nonetheless, it happens. It's an unfortunate sinking feeling for me to talk to some people, perhaps hear a couple of sentences about their college life, and then politely fake interest while listening to warmed-over drama carried over from the lower classes in the high-school hierarchy. Heavens, those vaguely known girls who got pregnant-whatever happened with them? What's happened with the former drama artists? Or the gay people. Or, or, or. Perhaps I'm caustic or cynical, but we've all been there-it was only a year ago now that we graduated. What's happened with you in that time? Certainly, something has occurred that's not related to high school. What's changed for you intellectually? Philosophically? Is the connection to a teenage alma mater so strong that even now the need exists to define oneself in terms of it? Look back upon it kindly, perhaps, but why the need for continued attachment beyond friendship with those below you in the class hierarchy? For me, the connection with the institution proper mostly died on that uncomfortably hot morning last May. I was glad to be free of it, to be able to define my future, my life in my own terms. Looking back on it, I find myself paraphrasing a quote that came up at the time of Jerry Falwell's passing-

"Let the good that occurred in that time live on, and let the bad die with its end..."

It's time to move forward. Let's walk that path.

01 May 2007

Frustration, Enlightenment, and Direction

I was reading randomly about some open auditions being held by Steve Vai (wonderful guitar player, check him out at vai.com) and it kind of rushed back to me as to how much I miss playing the trumpet and guitar, either as a soloist or within an ensemble context.

After a month or so of complete disassociation with the horn and the music program, I find myself looking back at what I did those first two quarters and can't say that I am at all satisfied with what I did/accomplished in that time. I could attribute it to several things, but first and foremost is how much I abused or ignored the confidence placed in me by others. What tended to be a regular occurrence would be the receipt of complements, praise, or other general encouragement, which I externally acknowledged but drowned internally in what was by then a roiling sea of self-doubt and fatigue. Like any feedback loop, this grew until all that I seemed able to concentrate on was my impending failure, instead of the generally positive direction I was otherwise on. And you know what happened? I failed, gloriously. I'm really displeased with that, because quite a few people, be it in classes, performance, or otherwise, felt that I had a great deal of talent/potential/whatever and told me as much, and then I went and completely blew it, while being fully cogent of the tack that I was on. To all of you, I offer this as a kind of public apology. Thanks for your kind words, and I'm sorry that they fell on deaf ears at the time.

Of all the mistakes/learning through strife that I've done so far, there's one action that I haven't yet made. I haven't sold the horn, I haven't yet decided to quit, and I find myself itching to play again. Predictable? Probably. Even if I'm not majoring in the playing of the thing anymore, I'd be making a seriously dumb move if I were to put it down for good. How to pick it up again isn't something I've been able to settle on yet, since I'm just plain burnt out on traditional trumpeting. All I know is that at some point, I'll be able to do so, and if that's the only good thing that comes of this, then I'll be glad for it.

See ya next week.

03 April 2007

Erg.

There's nothing here yet-I will begin updating as soon as my brain gets around to composing something worthy of posting. Check back soon.