A snow day love letter (and rant)

It’s such a crazy thing getting older, you know? Planning your life. Figuring out how you want to spend your energy.  Compromising. Taking risks. Trusting other people.  Trusting yourself.  Prioritizing. Letting your guard down. Choosing to be around people who inspire you. Becoming your own person.

All of these things are constantly on my mind these days. Which, from what I can gather, is probably a good thing (for my future) while also extremely tedious (in the meanwhile). I can’t speak for the non-musicians out there, but I can for the (27 year old) musicians I know, and I have to say, we have a lot of tough decisions to make at this age.

With simply the pure intention of finding a healthy balance between some kind of artistic satiation, personal fulfillment, and all the other stuff like love, money, family and friends, I’ve considered so many different scenarios for myself in the past two months, it makes my head spin.  Full disclosure(!) I’ve thought about slicing my teaching load in half to become a full time nanny, moving to a completely new city to start something from the ground up, and I even applied for a full-time administrative job (which I didn’t get). Whoa. What in the world is happening to me?!?!

Of course, there is one HUGE factor in all of this, which is the fact that I CAN’T PLAY THE VIOLA .

(Side rant: It’s so ridiculous — I feel like I’m suspended in this perpetual land of limbo, where I don’t know what to tell myself.  If I choose to think about how I will get better in the future, I feel frustrated by the waiting game.  And if choose to accept my current state, I’m unfulfilled by what I have to show for my life currently, even though I love my teaching.  Not being able to play seriously affects my income, and my happiness.  And makes me write pissy blog posts like this! Bah!!)  

But nevermind that. If I look around at some of  my wonderful musicians friends, we’re all finding a way to make our crazy and challenging lives work.  Giving and taking, always. Maybe you have to live somewhere that’s ideal for your partner, but not for you — but your partner is the most incredible human being you know and is so totally worth it.  Maybe you have to teach late five days a week — but when you finally leave your teaching job each night, its with a better feeling than when you first began.  Or MAYBE,  you can only afford an apartment where your bedroom has (1) stupid outlet in it, but you know that one day, ONE DAY, you will perform Mozart K. 387 with some of your best friends for an audience, and it will feel better than anything else in life ever could.

                               Goofing off with the Q ladies at Ellen’s wedding last year!

“Singers and Musicians are some of the most driven, courageous people on the face of the earth. They deal with more day-to-day rejection in one year than most people do in a lifetime. Every day, they face the financial challenge of living a freelance lifestyle, the disrespect of people who think they should get real jobs, and their own fear that they’ll never work again. Every day, they have to ignore the possibility that the vision they have dedicated their lives to is a pipe dream. With every note, they stretch themselves, emotionally and physically, risking criticism and judgment. With every passing year, many of them watch as the other people their age achieve the predictable milestones of normal life – the car, the family, the house, the nest egg. Why? Because musicians and singers are willing to give their entire lives to a moment – to that melody, that lyric, that chord, or that interpretation that will stir the audience’s soul. Singers and Musicians are beings who have tasted life’s nectar in that crystal moment when they poured out their creative spirit and touched another’s heart. In that instant, they were as close to magic, God, and perfection as anyone could ever be. And in their own hearts, they know that to dedicate oneself to that moment is worth a thousand lifetimes.”- David Ackert, LA Times

Dear 2012

Dear 2012,

Oh! How I’ve waited for this moment.  For 12 months now, I’ve fantasized about this letter.  I’ve dreamed of telling you exactly what I think of you. For an entire year, I’ve stockpiled memories and moments you’ve given me, like a squirrel preparing for a long and harsh winter.  You’re a crafty one for sure, but I’m totally onto you now.

It all started last January. January 3rd, actually.  You didn’t waste anytime. POOF. My car “disappears”.  I think it’s because you thought I deserved something much nicer than my little two-door Civic that I whipped around in during high school.  And when the police found it in that random alleyway spraypainted, with no tires, no radio, none of my stuff, and um, no engine, that was just for closure. Right? I mean, I needed to know I wasn’t getting that sucker back. You were helping me move on.

Of course, when I bought my next car after that, you had more invaluable insights for me.  I needed to know that I couldn’t work for a month and half without a day off, and expect to get from point A to B in one piece.  Also, that I should check the brakes first before buying a car off Craigslist.  So naturally, you had me smash my brand new car into the one in front of me at 9pm in a horrible neighborhood. I needed to learn! You let me down easy though, because the guy in front of me drove a beater, and the cops totally took pity on a the little white girl with the violin.

But I was resilient, because that’s my middle name.  I got myself another car, and I think you forgot about me for a little while, because I seem to remember a tiny pocket of time somewhere in April sans any kind of epic drama.

Then you hit me with a few little jabs, nothing as big as your usual swings. Sure, a few pretty horrific bouts of the flu, but I got to watch two full seasons of Downton Abbey, so we’ll leave that out. Oh, and about that custom built, extra small-framed road bike that I spent a lot of time and money on, I guess I didn’t really need that. Or my two childhood cats. I mean, they were really old.

What I clearly needed was some kind of debilitating shoulder injury that would take an eternity to diagnose and treat.  And of course, cost a freaking fortune, too. Yes! I was too happy, and I was working too much.  How dare I find three other girls that I love to make music with? How dare I  absolutely love what I do for a living? I was getting cocky, and it needed to stop.

Oh, and it has.

At first I was devastated.  But then I remembered that you have a round-about way of showing your love, 2012. I started to look at this chapter of my year differently. I realized, you didn’t make me spend my savings on six months of treatment that got me almost nowhere. You gave me four more wonderful relationships to brighten my days — Paul the massage therapist, Steve the chiropractor, Maria, the acupuncture lady (she was such a good listener!), and Mike, the redneck physical therapist, who loves Romney and guns.

But then something changed.  After spending the entirety of the summer in the dark hollows of my violaless life, I decided that you really suck sometimes, 2012. And I wasn’t okay with that.
So I somewhere found the strength to ignore your antics, and piece together a personal mantra for the things in my life that make me feel incredible.  Soon after, my life started to level out, and now I once again bounce around with a big smile, and a sunny outlook on most things.  After all, few people have families and quartets like mine.

But I got wise. I made a deal with 2013. And this is what she insisted:

I must:
Challenge myself musically, and personally. And push myself to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do.
Continue to surround myself with people who I value and love.
Continue to push myself to develop a strong voice, and to stand up for my beliefs.
Try to be the best friend, colleague, and teacher I can be.
Always try to find good, even when it’s extra tricky.

And in return, 2013 will:
Bring me good car luck.
Bring me strength to navigate all of this injury crap.
And of course, 2013 will just be a lot nicer to me than you were, 2012.

Don’t let the door hitcha on the way out!

Love,
Aimee

Thoughts from the bench…

In May of this year, I started experiencing numbness and tingling in my left hand, and severe pain in my left shoulder.  The pain was not caused by any trauma. After spending six months abstaining from playing and seeking weekly treatment from a handful of specialists, I’m still searching for an answer to why I am in pain.

It’s hard to believe I’ve been without my viola for half a year.  This whole experience has been so difficult and overwhelming, it’s been a challenge to see it with any clarity.  It sounds dramatic, but I’ve sort of just been meandering through the Five Stages of Grief.  To musicians, our music is an extension of who we are.   It’s our passion, our means of expression, our inspiration, voice and self-worth. It’s also how we pay our bills, put food on the table, and survive.  You could ask anyone who knows me, I am such a violist.  It’s weird, you know, not to be for a little while.

A string quartet is already such a delicate entity, without the burden of dealing with something like this.  Like a lot of challenges my quartet has faced, we realize there is no manual. We’ve had to be strong, and creative to navigate this tricky situation.  I have to say, I am humbled and spoiled by Ellen, Kate, and Sara.  These girls have been such incredible troopers, you have no idea.  I kinda secretly wish we could make our group tag line: Chicago Q Ensemble, rolling with the punches.

So now I share with you the top 6 shocking discoveries I’ve made while being injured:

1. Musicians work REALLY, REALLY hard. Looking back on the months before I started having pain in my shoulder, my schedule was just plain stupid, to steal Kyle Vegter’s phrase. No days off, running myself absolutely ramped, no time to relax. I watch my roommates now (they are both wonderful musicians) and I can’t believe how much they’re doing.  It plays with your head to be an observer.  We don’t realize how hard we’re working while we’re in it, just like I didn’t realize how important downtime was until I had a some.

2. It’s really important to evaluate your self-worth away from your instrument.  As musicians, we spend our lives mastering this one craft. We put so much of ourselves into it, that our self esteem often goes hand in hand with our playing. Not being able to play has made me explore strengths I have away from my viola and other ways to feel good about myself.  I wouldn’t have believed it if you told me last year that public speaking could actually be fun!

3. Making music is a PHYSICAL thing.  I remember my old teacher and mentor, Roger Chase saying “We’re athletes of the small muscle groups”… and its true.  We are!  We also use our big muscle groups, even though we’re not always supposed to… (Errr, like my pectoralis minor). Music schools are letting down musicians everywhere.  Teaching us to play our instruments is NOT enough. I’ve often complained that music schools have failed at giving us enough entrepreneurial skills to survive as classical musicians, and now I feel they’ve failed at teaching us about our bodies.  Anyone who plays for 3 or more hours a day should be getting regular deep tissue massages at the very least!

4. Everyone you talk to will recommend treatment.

5. I’d be totally screwed if it weren’t for my family.  Not just emotionally, but monetarily. Seriously. What do people do without the luxury of families who are able to help out financially?  Seeing doctors is EXPENSIVE, especially when you can’t work. But that’s a whole other issue.

6. Taking care of yourself mentally is just as important as eating or sleeping. Meditate, see a therapist, keep a journal, do whatever…  but keep in touch with your feelings.

As you can see, I’ve made lots of good discoveries despite all the crap. So while it’s true that dealing with the artistic and practical challenges of an injury is an uphill battle, I kind of don’t have a choice. I think there is more good I can get out of this situation, and since I’m stuck here, I am determined to find it.

More than just music…

Just recently, I went sifting through a stack of old journals that I found in my bedroom at my parent’s house. When I say stack, I mean stack! — Those things were my means of survival in navigating through the forest of insecurity, doubt, and self consciousness that always seem to surround most vulnerable high schoolers. Most of what I wrote about is now insignificant; what I did that day, how annoying it was when my mom told me to practice, or a detailed account of my accidental interaction with the object of my affection, so I was delighted when I found these words: “When I grow up, I want to live in Chicago close to my family, and play in a string quartet”.

When I was in high school dreaming of one day playing string quartets for my job, I had no idea about anything except how the music made me feel. I didn’t know what 501©3 status was, I didn’t know a thing about marketing, and I hadn’t even begun to understand real teamwork, never-the-less COMPROMISE. (Which I think sits at the centerpiece of quartet playing!) And what’s funny is, I don’t feel I learned much about any of that while pursuing my music degrees either.

Over the past (almost) three years, I’ve spent my time holding down the viola fort in Chicago Q Ensemble. Risking sounding pretty annoying, I have to say, I love our organization and what it stands for. Aside from everything musical Q has taught me, I feel it has made a profound impact on the way I approach the relationships in my life. Some people have a thing for politics, others go crazy for sports, but me, I like people.

I am currently struggling with a shoulder injury that is keeping me from playing, (which totally, TOTALLY sucks) but it hasn’t been all bad. I’m surprised to find myself more aware of the skills I’ve learned through the quartet that don’t involve my viola. 16-year-old Aimee didn’t know that a string quartet could do so much more than fill my ears with some of the greatest music in the universe. Through working with my three incredible counterparts, I’ve been lucky enough to learn patience, to be vulnerable, to trust, to problem solve, and to listen. All the things you’d ever want in a relationship.

Greetings!

Whoa. I just started a blog, which is definitely outside of my comfort zone.  Well, I did have a MySpace blog but everyone knows that’s not very cool anymore. So here I go: Through this blog, I intend to share my true thoughts on what it’s really like to be a violist in this incestuous classical music world that I both love and question.  Being a classical musician isn’t always easy, or always all that it is cracked up to be, but it’s my life, and I love it.

What I’m doing with my life: I am the violist of a pretty special string quartet.  We are 4 mighty women on a mission to make classical music cool and relevant.  Our actual mission statement is  more refined and expansive than that obviously, but making music relatable is a big part of it.  In fact, for me, one of the most exciting parts about what we are able to do with Chicago Q is to bring classical music to those who otherwise wouldn’t ordinarily seek it out.  It’s confusing to me — let me explain.

Walking around the city of Chicago with an enormous double violin/viola case on my back attracts a lot of attention, as you can imagine.  Especially because I’m under five feet.  When strangers randomly stop to ask me what the hell it is that I’m carrying, (favorite guesses include: portable massage table, and rifle) you can’t imagine what enthusiasm my answer elicits. Seriously.  ”Oh, you play the violin, I LOVE the violin! I used to play, and I really want my kids to play!”.  or “I love classical music, it’s so soothing and relaxing…” Amazing right?! People love what it is we do.  They really do. So why don’t they seek it out?

Oh gosh, here comes my rant.  Errrrr… A large part  of it is because of us, the musicians, I think, anyway.   I think there are some really simple things we could all do to help our community.

BE GRACIOUS.  Really.  I feel like SO many classical musicians walk around feeling entitled.  Why? I couldn’t tell you. Probably because what we do is really hard, and takes a ton of hard work.  I don’t care, still doesn’t give you the right to expect people to know what it is that you do, or anything about the culture.   It’s your job to tell them – and your job to not judge someone who doesn’t know how the hell to pronounce Mozart.   Or to not roll your eyes at the person who loves Pachelbel’s Cannon and requests Freebird to your wedding quartet.  Okay, well maybe the Freebird thing, but still.  I have witnessed so many situations where musicians have seriously been offended by someone outside of the community inquiring about what it is that they do.  Our attitudes of today are going to effect our support in the future.  Come on people – stop being snobby – for the future of classical music!

And something else – I feel like people want a different vibe.  Or maybe just me… Ha! I’m not sure why, but the older I get, the less interested I am in seeing the symphony.    Someone once told me that in music, it doesn’t matter who is playing the instrument – it’s what they say with it.  And I disagree.  I want to be at a concert where I can better connect with the performers.  I want to hear their voices and learn about their personalities. I want to feel their enthusiasm.  Something about small ensembles who work their asses off to put on a concert makes the experience so much more exciting. Watching symphony members with blank faces chit chat while they  half face the audience at Symphony Center doesn’t do it for me anymore, regardless of how amazing the music is. I’m just not interested.  I want to be surrounded by enthusiasm, creativity, humbleness, and love.

Good thing I live in Chicago!