Here I am, minding my own business, getting ready to do a demo on using iTunes in tomorrow’s Intro to Music Technology class, and Apple drops this on me. A new, quite different, version of iTunes…even the icon is different.
So, now I have to figure out if I am going to give the demo on iTunes 9 (which is now officially obsolete) or if I will try to give it on iTunes 10. Also, I’m going to have to rethink several lectures in my Intro to the Music Industry class. I suppose there are worse things that could happen, but trying to keep up with Apple and the advancements of music technology can be tiring. I have yet to teach the Intro to Music Tech class using the same technology twice in a row. Ditto for the Industry class. Now, to figure what what to do tomorrow…
So, I’ve been Jonesing for an eBook reader lately. I am not really sure why, but I’ve doing all sorts of research, trying to figure out which one is better (between the Amazon Kindle and the Barnes & Noble Nook). I think the thing that excites me is the idea that I could get rid of a bunch of clutter if I ditched half of my books. Of course, I am not willing to just ditch them outright, even though I haven’t read any of them in who knows how long. So, the thought of having a magic little box that would let me keep the books for the small possibility that I mightmaybesomeday actually read some of the bazillion books I have while being able to get rid of a bunch of crap is quite appealing.
I tried a Nook very briefly at a Barnes & Noble store once. I was really pretty excited about it, but went home kind of disappointed. Mostly, I realized that an iPod touch could serve the same purpose (plus a whole lot more). The fact that the new Kindle has free web access over 3G is really pretty cool. That would most definitely come in handy when traveling. I like the DRM-less quality of the Nook, and the lending/borrowing capabilities as well.
So, do any of you five folks out there have any experience with either of these things? Maybe you can tell me that I have better things to do with $180?
As you know, my family and I just returned from a two-week vacation. During those two weeks, we drove some 2200 miles; four days of solid driving.
I sometimes like to play little games with the soundtrack while we drive. I try to find songs that talk about where we are, as specifically as possible. If I can’t find that, then I’ll just go for something that “fits” as closely as possible.
My favorite matchup is when we are driving north of Sacramento on I-5…I turn on this song:
“Arco Arena,” from Comfort Eagle by Cake
When we used to live in Idaho, and we’d drive to my in-laws in Sacramento, I would try and remember to turn this one on right around Sparks, NV:
“All the Way to Reno (You’re Gonna be a Star),” from Reveal by R.E.M.
Every time we are in Silverlake or Echo Park, I pull something like this out…I just have to:
“Hotwax,” from Odelay by Beck
I think I am pretty clever, but I think my wife thinks I am just annoying.
We actually have a discussion in my Intro to the Music Industry class about musical geography and various stereotypes for certain cities across the US (ie. Nashville, Seattle, etc. as well as less obvious ones). It’s actually a really fun discussion. I always try to get them to tell me what San Diego sounds like, or should sound like…at which point they start to tell me about how San Diego is too diverse and it’s impossible to have just one sound to represent the entire city…What do you think? What kinds of music sound like where you are?
Given my financial situation this month, and given my eternal quest to more fully embrace minimalism, I am selling a bunch of crap on ebay this week. Plus, selling old stuff (sometimes) means you get to get new stuff!
So, if anyone is in the market for a skateboard, a some snowboard bindings, some snowboard boots, a wetsuit, a baroque/classical double bass bow, or a bass viol bow, let’s make a deal!
For some reason, the majority of my closest friends from high school and college were girls. Maybe it is the fact that I was a music major, and most of my classes were 70% female, maybe it’s because I am not into typical “guy” things like organized sports or video games, but when I sit and think about the people I cared about most, the people I miss the most, most of the folks on the list are girls.
Darcy was one of my closest friends in college. We met during my (and her) first year in college. We had a mutual friend who thought we should know each other because we were both kind of weird, both vegetarians, and both into music. It turned out that Darcy and I ended up hanging out a lot, and I made many other friends through our relationship.
Darcy now lives in Portland, so I had to see her while I was there. She took my wife and I to this little coffee house called Rimsky-Korsakoffee (I am assuming that is how it’s spelled), which is a cute little victorian-looking house where they serve coffee and deserts accompanied by live music. It is very Portland, I am told. When she asked me what I wanted to do, how much of Portland I wanted to see, I told I wanted to see the hairy-arm-pitted, hairy-legged, dread-locked lesbian Portland, and Darcy delivered! :)
I wish that my high school reunion was as nice as this reunion was. It was really fun to catch up and hang out with such a close friend from “back then.” It was especially nice that I got to share that reminiscence with my wife, as she wasn’t around for that part of my life, and having her there kind of made it feel like she was.
Our daughter threw a fit when we were leaving. She said that she really wanted to see my friend too. She asked me why I wanted to go, and I told her that she gets to go play with her friends sometimes, so I wanted to, too. She asked if Darcy had any toys at her house. I said that I didn’t know. She finally gave in by asking if we could at least take a picture of her so she could see her too. Here’s the fulfillment of that promise:
I’ve been told that there are three really good reasons to become a teacher: June, July, and August.
Because of those reasons, though, I only get paid 11 times a year. My last paycheck was at the end of June, and I won’t get another one until the end of August. The timing of several other events (including a car insurance deductible, and the arrival of my new instrument), we’ve found ourselves really having to scrimp and save this month.
I keep thinking to myself, “I can’t wait until the end of August when I won’t have to scrimp so much.” But, what this time has taught me is that we actually can get by spending not nearly as much money as we usually do. If I was to make this “scrimping” more normal, I’d have a whole lot of extra funds to put away or invest in more worthwhile endeavors.
I am in Portland, Oregon (actually in Hillsboro and Forest Grove). I’ve been here since Sunday. I decided to attend the VdGSA Conclave this year.
The VdGSA (the Viola da Gamba Society of America) hosts this big get-together every summer. Basically it is a week of group lessons, classes, and workshops, most of which are hosted by the top players/teachers in the US. The conclave moves around every year, usually alternating between the East Coast, Mid-West, and the West Coast. Ever since I’ve been paying attention, the West Coast events have been in Seattle or Tacoma. Being from San Diego, Seattle might as well be the Mid-West, as it is still 1500 miles away. There was a series of events, though, that made me decide to come this year. First, I have a full-time job. Second, I have a new instrument. Third, Portland is at least a little bit closer than Seattle. Fourth, my wife has family that live very near the conclave’s location.
Anyway, so I came out here to attend the conclave, which was/is my first visit to Oregon. For me, Oregon has always been one of those mysterious places. I’ve wondered what it was like, imagined things up in my head about how great it must be. Three years ago, I had even resigned to the idea that I would get a job up here, and that I’d become an Oregonian. Oregon always seemed like a rugged, hip, semi-radical type of place. I liked that it had coastal amenities, I liked that it had a certain DIY aesthetic, I liked that it seemed like it had a vibrant, artsiness.
Now that I’ve been, I have to say that I think I might have built it up a bit too much in my head. There is nothing wrong with Oregon, really. It is a beautiful place—more beautiful than most, I’d say. What kind of surprised me, though, was how rural Oregon is. I imagined that Portland was a lot bigger than it actually is. I thought that Eugene was going to be this über-hip college town, simply oozing coolness. When we went to the beach on Wednesday (which was gorgeous!) I was surprised at how small the beach towns were. Tillamook takes all of ten minutes to drive across.
I can still see myself living up here someday. But now that I’ve been here, and driven across the entire state, I’ve let myself down a bit. I have actually had to remind myself on several occasions that I am not in Canada or some other foreign land, as everything seems kind of backwards ‘round here…you can’t even pump your own gas!
Ever since my first post about speaking French, I’ve been thinking a lot about other cultures. In the summer of 2001 I went on a tour through East-Central Europe. Specifically, we visited Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Austria, and Hungary. I got this opportunity because I was recruited, at the last minute, as a member of the Ricks College Bluegrass Band accompanying the Folk Dance team. At the time, I couldn’t think of anything more uncool than singing cowboy songs, dressed up in cheesy Americana attire, accompanying corny dancing. It didn’t really occur to me that I was getting an almost free trip across Europe, and an exposure to many, many interesting musics and cultures from around the world, while at the same time learning the rich culture of American folk music.
Everything is exotic to someone. I remember thinking that Irish folk music was really interesting when I was about 18 (not that I don’t still think it is interesting). The folk music from Ukraine was something that really caught my attention at the festivals. A group came to Cuyamaca College last semester that specialized in the traditional music of Bulgaria—fascinating stuff! But, what I imagine is the case, is that back home, people think of this music as cheesy and corny; they probably view it the same way I was viewing the American music. When we were playing at the folk music/dance festivals, everyone just loved us; the little kids especially came alive when they heard our “authentic” cowboy music from the West. We were exotic, strange, and interesting to them!
I remember when we were in Vienna, there were these two girls, maybe in their late teens, that were really excited to get a picture with one of our singer/guitar players. He was tall, lanky, and tough—a real-life cowboy from Southern Utah where he grew up on a ranch. He wore a black Stetson pretty much everyday. He wore a pair of dress boots when he got gussied up. He spoke with a distinct drawl. These Austrian girls thought this guy was amazingly cool! They couldn’t wait to show their friends that they had met a real-life cowboy! I was there, in Vienna, thinking about how cool it was to be in such an old city, with so much sophisticated European culture, so much modern chic. I was embarrassed to be there, dressed like I was, performing the music that I was, associating with the folks I was, yet these girls thought that was really interesting and exciting.
Isn’t it strange how we only see these sorts of things in other cultures, but we think of ours as pretty boring? Or maybe I am the only one who thinks that…
Writing my last post got me thinking about my time at Melaleuca. I worked on the French team, speaking to the Québécois customers. Like I said, I was thrown for a pretty good loop when I first sat down and tried listening in on the French calls; I only recognized a few words interspersed with what sounded like a whole lot of gibberish.
The first thing that I remember is that the callers almost always had a hard time with my name. I’d say, “Merci d’appeler Melaleuca, la companie de mieux-être. Je m’appele Taylor. Comment puis je vous aider?” (Literally: “Thank you for calling Melaleuca, the company of better-being. My name is Taylor. How may I help you?”). And almost every time, they’d say “Quoi? Comment vous appelez-vous?” (What? What is your name?) Then I’d have to try to explain my name. Early on, after spelling it out for a woman, she thought about it for a second and exclaimed, “Oh, Taylor! Comme madame Elizabeth!” (“Oh, Taylor! Like Ms. Elizabeth!”) Though it felt kind of silly, every time one of the customers had a hard time with my name, I’d tell them, “You know, like Ms. Elizabeth.” That seemed to work. When I was in high school, our French teacher had us pick “French” names to use in class, so we’d get used to using the right accent and inflections (instead of constantly “breaking character” to say an English name). I was François. I always thought it was funny that I had both the French-est first name and the English-est last name possible. Maybe I should have just called myself François on the phone.
The second thing that I remember is that I was constantly being mistook for a woman. Apparently speaking French on the telephone makes me sound like a Québécois woman; many, many, many conversations would end with the caller saying, “Merci madame!” I did have one occasion when a woman corrected me because I accidentally referred to my self as a woman. She asked me what I did, how I learned to speak French. I told I was a student (“Je suis une étudiante”). She then said, “I think you mean un étudiant. You don’t sound like a woman…” So, maybe, folks were calling me a woman, ‘cause I was, accidentally, from time to time. I was pretty careful about that from then on.
French pronunciation is kind of slippery. Generally speaking, you don’t pronounce the last letter or two of a word. So, for instance, you would say “Je suis” (“I am”) like: Zhuh swee. So, the only way to tell the difference between masculine and feminine is often the pronunciation or the consonant at the end of the word: “un étudiant” (a male student) is: uh nay-too-dee-ah(n) (you kind of swallow the “n”. “Une étudiante” (a female student) is: oo nay-too-dee-ahnt. Another tricky thing is that if the next word begins with a vowel, then you do pronounce the last syllable of the word: “Je suis ici” (“I am here”) is: Zhuh sweez eecee. “Je suis la” (“I am there”) would be: Zhuh swee lah. You have to be really careful with those subtle differences in pronunciation, ‘cause sometimes being sloppy with it will mean you say something that you didn’t mean to say (like “I am a female student”).
A third thing I remember was the Québécois’ funny ways of saying some things. They have a kind of distinct accent. The word bien sounds almost like “bang.” Kind of like Mexican-Americans, the French Canadians of speak in a mixture of English and French. Once this lady was explaining that there was a little sticker on the box, “Il y a un petit sticker sur la boite.” We were selling these little lampshades for candles, and we’d hear “Je veux le petit lampshade” all the time. In France, a hotdog is simply called “un hotdog.” In Québec, they say “un chien chaud” (a literal translation of the word “hotdog”). The French don’t really have a word for “fun,” the closest thing they have is “amusing.” The Québécois just say “C’est fun!” (“That’s fun!”). My favorite ‘cois-ism was the word tabernacle. Tabernacle, in the correct context, is considered pretty profane. Why? I have no idea, though a lot of the French cuss words are connected to Catholicism somehow…one time, I had a pretty irate customer on the phone and he said, “Taber-freakin’-nacle!” That was totally awesome!
