Wednesday, December 8, 2010

The end.

December 8th, 2010.

Classes ended today.

I'm really excited about that! My life is coming back to me.

But this time in the semester always brings me sadness along with the relief. An end has come. I won't ever be in those classes again. More importantly, I probably won't see all of those people anymore. I won't see most of my professors on a regular basis, if ever, anymore. Most of my classmates will become people that I might pass in the hallway from time to time, but that's it. We won't work together ever again, we won't sit together from that point on.

Even though I'm the kind of person who doesn't really know most of the people she has class with everyday, this ending still makes me pause and almost start to grieve. It's when the semester comes to a close that I start to wish that I had reached out to people more. I should have been talking to everyone during the semester, because now our time together is over, and I don't have another chance. When the end of the semester comes, I always feel like we should all stop and give each other a proper farewell, at the very least. Ideally, everyone should promise to keep in touch, make sure they find each other on Facebook, and distribute hugs amongst the group. I mean, we've spent an entire 14 weeks together, in the same environment, learning the same things, taking the same tests, dealing with that same frustrations. That means something. A lot of something. We can't just walk out and not acknowledge it.

But so much of the time, we do. Class ends, we rush out the door, and with that, people we've been living our lives with for three and a half months are things of the past, never to be seen again.

So, even though I've been looking forward to it, I'm having a bit of a hard time being happy about classes being over. I suppose I'll get over it, but there are some people I had class with my freshman year whom I have not seen since, and I still feel a bit of sadness that our lives are not interconnected anymore, or that we didn't even properly acknowledge our inevitable separation before it happened.

There are few endings in life that are quite as final as the ending of school. I think that's why I have a hard time with it. Most things that end in life just fade. I don't know ahead of time that they're going to end, it just kind of happens over time. So I'm not hit with the force of the same impending finality.

And in May, I graduate.....

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

"This could be the start of something new."

Significant things happen on a regular basis. One can never know what is going to unfold in the next moment. It could be life-changing.

I don't know if you're like me, but most things in my life don't seem like a big deal at the time in which they are happening. I live my life, moments come, moments go, and for the most part, they all feel about the same. Life is ordinary. That doesn't mean it's not interesting, but interest is not an exclusive, or even necessary, determiner of significance. I look at most things in my life and think, "Well, that was fun. I don't know if it will ever mean anything beyond that. But it was fun nonetheless."

To be sure, there are moments that feel really weighty and they are really weighty. On the whole, however, it's not that obvious. In many cases, the urge to speculate is irresistible. Something happens that seems like it could develop into more, and I mull over what that might look like in my head.

One of those moments occurred today, in my History of Popular Music in America class.

We were assigned a big semester group project, and that project was to write and record a song.

When I first heard this, I was both excited and scared. The thought of writing and recording a song is cool. But before this, I had no composition experience. Not a single song lyric had been penned, outside of the ridiculous things that seem to come unthinkingly out of my head when I'm cleaning, cooking, walking down the street, etc. No melodies had been strung together, outside of those same ridiculous songs. No harmonic progressions had been dreamed up, outside of the disastrous passacaglia I had to write in theory II (and that was classical music, so it doesn't count anyway.) So I was feeling inadequate. The fact that I can't really play anything didn't boost my confidence either. The one thing I clung to was my ability to sing. That I knew I could do, so I didn't despair completely.

So we started, none of us really knowing what to expect. While talking about what we might want to write about, one girl in my group pulled out a song that she had written with a friend and played it for us, just because. But we all liked it. It was good. With some work, it would fit our purposes.

And so I had my first real venture into songwriting. It was a tiny one. The song was mostly whole, but I wrote a few lines, changed a few existing ones. And she had words for a bridge, and a chord progression for said bridge, but no melody. So I wrote a melody. The work I did wasn't much, but it was exciting nonetheless.

The next big obstacle was recording. None of us had access to a studio, and it turned out that none of us even had basic okay quality recording equipment. Nor much experience editing. The best thing I could come up with was to ask my brother if we could use his laptop, which I knew would produce something passable. Graciously, he agreed and we got together in a practice room with an acoustic guitar and my voice, and recorded one track of the ambient sound in the room. It wasn't great, but you could hear everything. And it wasn't painful.

Thus we were done, and felt kind of nervous about what people would think about it.

Today was the day of reckoning. Presentations of the songs from every group took place. When our turn came, I thought "here goes!" and we stood at the front of the room while everyone else listened.

To my great surprise and pleasure, the first thing that was said was something like this: "That was beautiful. I really liked that. That recording did not do that justice at all. I think you need to give that to someone who can take it and really make it something great."

What? Did I hear that correctly? I, of course, don't take much credit, because most of the writing was done by someone other than me, but I did contribute. And it was my voice that was on that recording, and as great as the words may have been, I don't think anyone would have earnestly called it beautiful if the vocal presentation had been crummy. Or worse. So I'm encouraged!

This is only possibly significant because of the things I've been thinking and feeling. I have felt for a long time like making music is in my future, but with the lack of original creativity, there never has really been any evidence to suggest that that would be a reality. Also, even though before this project I had never written anything, my brother has been...not quite hounding me, but almost...about writing songs. He keeps telling me I need to. I've been thinking to myself, "Where is this coming from? I have no songwriting track record, so why is that the one thing that he keeps telling me I should get busy doing?" It would make more sense for him to tell me to start catering. Or writing literary criticism. Or sewing for people, even. I do not call myself an experienced seamstress, but I have more experience with a needle and thread than I do with melody-making.

Maybe there's a reason for all of this. Maybe this song project will lead to something more in my personal life that just a grade in a class. Maybe, even though this felt like just another ordinary, yet fun, part of my life as a college student, I will look back on it in the future and see that it was significant.

Or maybe not.

Either way, I'm grateful for this experience. Whether anyone ever knows me as such, I can now call myself a songwriter.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Grateful to be incapable.

Remember what I said yesterday about maybe passing theory IV?

I'm a little more unsure today. A little more than a little unsure, really. I'm trying to not count my eggs before they hatch, as they say, and not panic. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't fret.

Money has also been concerning my brain. My attitude about money usually runs something like this: "I need to get across town today and I have just enough money to get enough gas to get across town and back home. I'm doing pretty good." But there are times when my insecurity gets the better of me, and I see what I expect is coming in the future, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out. And it bothers me. That's where I am right now.

I also injured myself on Tuesday. Somehow, in the course of my much walking in the rain, I pulled a muscle in my leg. Since then, I've been limping. It takes me twice as long to get anywhere. The elevators at school and I have become better friends. I feel handicapped. As someone who is always darting from one place to the next, motivated by an urge to get things done now and an intolerance of being late, it's frustrating.

Due to others in my family needing to use my car, I wasn't able to drive myself to school today. I hold no hard feelings against anyone. I'm happy that I have a car that is available when someone else needs it. But as soon as I got out of my second class, I was tempted to drive home for my break before my last class. Since we had a test, we got out earlier than normal, so the temptation was even stronger. But I can't go anywhere. Again, being the hyperactive person that I am, that's never easy for me.

In my next class, I have to get up and "teach." Instead of lecturing all of the time, my professor seems to like having his students learn by way of researching themselves and then telling the class what they've found. Essentially, we all lecture a little piece of what he would normally be doing himself and he supervises. This isn't an illogical concept, but public speaking and I still aren't the best of friends. I don't get nervous like I did at one time, at least not consciously. But my body still acts like I'm nervous, regardless of what my conscious feelings tell me. Whenever I have to speak in front of an audience, I feel fine inside, but my legs start shaking to the point that they won't support me. And I fear it comes through in my voice. This is another frustrating situation. I'm not nervous, so why do I shake? Even in a situation of complete confidence, I can't seem to get anything right.

In a word, I'm feeling incapable. In every area of life.

But this is a good thing. My incapability reminds me that I'm dependent, which is something that I, an extremely independent person, need to have put in front me regularly. Frustration, suffering, adversity, all of these things build character. They shape me into a better person.

As Caedmon's Call said in a song that I have loved since childhood, "I am thankful that I'm incapable."

"You know I ran across an old box of letters
While I was bagging up some clothes for Goodwill
But you Know I had to laugh at the same old struggles
That plagued me then are plaguing me still
I know the road is long from the ground to glory
But a boy can hope he's getting some place
But you see, I'm running from the very clothes I'm wearing
And dressed like this I'm fit for the chase

'Cause no, there is none righteous
Not one who understands
There is none who seek God
No not one, I said no not one

So I am thankful that I'm incapable
Of doing any good on my own

'Cause we're all stillborn and dead in our transgressions
We're shackled up to the sin we hold so dear
So what part can I play in the work of redemption
I can't refuse, I cannot add a thing

'Cause I am just like Lazarus and I can hear your voice
I stand and rub my eyes and walk to You
Because I have no choice

I am thankful that I'm incapable
Of doing any good on my own
I'm so thankful that I'm incapable
Of doing any good on my own

'Cause by grace I have been saved
Through faith that's not my own
It is a gift of God and not by works
Lest anyone should boast"

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

12/1/2010

Things I am grateful for today (See, I told you I give little regard to convention):

  • It's December 1st.
  • It's kinda cold outside.
  • It's Wednesday.
  • I didn't do any homework yesterday.
  • What is likely to be the hardest part of my semester is over.
  • Finals start next Friday.
  • The end of the semester is almost here.
  • Christmas is coming.
  • Jesus was born, which is why I'm glad for Christmas.
  • It snowed yesterday. In November. Which never happens.
  • My grandma is coming for a visit.
  • She's bringing Thanksgiving leftovers from the dinner at her house that we missed.
  • This will be my only Thanksgiving dinner, because we didn't have one at my house at all, so that makes this especially exciting.
  • I made an 89 on my last theory test.
  • I made a presentation yesterday with little preparation, and no one laughed at me.
  • Apparently, I'm not a miserable public speaker.
  • I don't think I'm failing any of my classes.
  • I think I might actually pass theory IV.
  • We're performing Handel's Messiah twice this weekend.
  • I live in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.
  • I'm not sick.
  • I can breathe.
  • I have friends. A lot of friends. Great friends.
  • I not only love my family, I like them.
  • All of them seem to like me, too.
  • Most of all, I'm grateful for this: "Behold, I make all things new...It is done." (Revelation 21)