I have been running this blog since I was 15 years old. Since spring 2007. That was 8 YEARS AGO. But it does not feel like a long time. Truth, I don't go by "Katie" anymore, except with my very closest friends, but I still feel like the same person who signed up for blogger with the intention of penning morality tales about cross country running and trumpet playing. For this reason I refuse to change the title or url, or delete any of the posts.
Here is another truth, I never actually finished my music degree. And I haven't wanted to be a music teacher in a very long time. So what in the world do I want to do with my life?
Well, I'm not in school right now, I got the heck out of there, but I'm learning so much. I joined an Americorps program so I'm working full time at a youth-serving nonprofit organization in my hometown, which I love. I'm learning about how the nonprofit world works, including donations, both fiscal and inkind, as well as the complicated process of grant-applications. I'm learning about volunteer management, and most importantly I'm learning a lot about kids and education and youth development. My favorite part of my job is goofing off with the students and getting to see the world from their eyes.
A new star wars movie came out. You should google that if you want more information, because this is not really the best place to learn about star wars. Kylo Ren is my baby princess.
Ever since about my sophomore year of college I've been working part time at this one restaurant. Between when I stopped going to school and stuff I was spending quite a bit of time there (excluding the several months I was employed at a Lutheran church, but that's a whole 'nother story). Right now I'm only doing about one or two shifts each week, bartending on the weekends. I really love working there, even though I don't necessarily show it to them very often. But my coworkers at the restaurant are very important to me; they've been there for me through a lot of really tough parts of my life. Plus, bartending is super fun. One of the scary parts of moving on in my life is that i might not be able to be a bartender at this restaurant forever....
The service term for my Americorps program is one year. I've been working for my organization since last June, but I only officially started this service term in October, so I have until next September to make my next big life step. I've got some plans underway, and I'm thinking about making some big changes, so y'all should keep your ears aloft and we'll see what you find out in your diligence.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Monday, March 5, 2012
Trumpet Book Report: Effortless Mastery
Every semester in trumpet studio we have to read a book and write a book report. When we read Effortless Mastery, by Kenny Werner, I thought I would be super creative and write my paper all out of the box and stuff. I submitted the poem you will find below. Unfortunately Dr. G would've rather had something more "conventional", so he made me rework it and turn it in again.
A bird doesn’t choose which notes to sing.
An ocean doesn’t know how loudly it roars.
Why, then, do humans try so hard
When this is music at its core?
We want to be masters
We want to be great
But the path we take
Is full of fruitless study,
Endless hate.
Yet we are just like the roaring ocean,
And the birds that sing.
How can you say music is hard,
When you marvel at such simple things?
God is the one who composed it all--
The great creator of the earth.
He is the master of the big and the small,
And only in Him do we find our true worth.
God is with us all the time,
I am his and He is mine.
Each breath I take is the divine,
And when I play, His light can shine.
Music is to connect with God above,
It tells the story of His love.
If we believe that we are Heaven-sent
Then God himself will play our instruments.
God is within us, in charge of it all
But we have the tendency to fall.
Obsessed with ourselves, we build up walls:
We tighten our muscles,
Rile up our brains.
This leads to frustration,
It leads to more pain.
Yoga can help me to relax,
But my posture changes when I pick up my axe.
I need to keep it cool and free
Because playing trumpet is not about me.
If you want your music to resound,
Let your feet sink into the ground,
Don’t feel like you need to pound,
Relax into the self you’ve found,
The music you want is all around.
You must fall in love with your own sound.
Wasting minutes, wasting days,
Locked away in a practice room,
Trying to force what should come with grace,
Letting frustrations descend into gloom.
So in your practice, take it slow.
Immerse yourself in every measure.
Don’t relent until it flows,
And every hour will be treasured.
Just breathe.
But what if I suck?
Just breathe.
I think I’ve run out of luck.
Just breathe.
I sounded so bad before…
Just Relax!
With thinking like that, you have everything to lose.
You can play from whichever space you choose.
The music will move you,
If you choose to stand still.
Your music will lift you,
If you trust that it will.
Don’t run from your talent,
Don’t put it up on the shelf.
Your music will love you,
If you choose to love yourself.
Kenny Werner’s voice speaks in my ear,
And helps put my tired room-mate to sleep.
His words are nice and his imagery rich,
But I thought that he was kind of a creep.
How is one to meditate and relax,
Sinking deeply into her own simple space,
When there’s a stranger babbling into her ear?
That endeavor seemed like such a waste.
But now, equipped with the sound of his voice,
I can use his concepts, but without the CD.
I can choose to have his words in my brain,
But my meditations are guided by me.
These concepts are easy to say to myself,
And endlessly important in my playing,
But when I chant these mantras
And then go from week to week,
Am I really living up to what I’m saying?
Slipping.
I feel my time slipping away.
I’m losing my grip on all that I had.
Daunted.
I watch my practice hours dwindle,
Try to send them in without feeling bad.
Dripping.
Music drips out of my horn, falls on the floor,
Unexcited by the effort with which I’m striving.
I want so badly for my sound to soar,
It hangs in the air and I see it dying.
I need to relax, I need to breathe.
My journey here is just beginning.
I’m moving faster than I realize,
But it won’t help if my head keeps spinning.
These things can’t be fixed in hours or weeks,
I remind myself with the passing days
The time that I do spend
Does quite well to mend
The bad habits built up from the old ways.
I can begin to fix the little things.
One measure mastered is better than ten etudes worked up.
I slowly put more time on the clock.
Deliberation is my weapon
And the UNI trumpet studio is my flock.
We help each other. We know the curse
Of trying so hard to measure up.
Without my friends, this book would be good,
But it never would be good enough.
Now.
Armed with my mantras,
Surrounded by friends,
I embark on the adventure of trial and romance.
The music is in me.
It’s placed there by God.
My only job
Is just to dance.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
I Don't Have a Fish Anymore
Yesterday was a pretty sad day.
As some of you might know, Fred and George had been experiencing some weird, undiagnosable health-problems. He seemed to have trouble breathing. When it happened, I would put him in a tiny bowl with clean water and he would feel better again. Things seemed to be going okay after that.
Yesterday before my trumpet lesson I went to my room to check on him. I had just moved him back into his big bowl the night before. He was swimming around happily, and I considered feeding him, but I decided to wait until after 3:00, like he's used to.
I had a good trumpet lesson and then took a walk around campus since it was such a pretty day. When I got home I sat down at my computer to check my email. When I looked at Fred and George to see if he was hungry...he just...didn't look very hungry. Because he wasn't really alive anymore.
How can that happen so suddenly?
I wanted to bury him outside like my parents used to do with my goldfish, but our RA told us to put him in a little baggie and throw him in the trash room. Whatever. Since his burial was so unceremonious, I decided to create a tribute video to honor his memory.
Note: I think I got the date wrong for his birth. Granted, I don't know exactly how old he was because I adopted him from a friend who received him as a gift. But I'm pretty sure he was born in 2010, not 2009. Whatever.
Today we honor a fallen warrior. He was a very good friend to me, and I'll miss him very much. I know it's weird to get this upset over a fish, but he was like a little ray of sunshine when other things were going wrong. He made me feel like a responsible pet owner, like an adult.
Maybe I'll get another fishie someday. But it'll be awhile. You can't just replace someone like Fred and George.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The Potato Masher
High Time that I made a blog post in tribute to the world's most interesting looking kitchen utensil.
Step aside, sporks. The potato masher is all over you.
Without knowing what it is, one might have absolutely no idea what it could possibly be used for. But it can really only serve the one purpose, and oh what a noble purpose that is. Mashed Potatos are a tasty treat. Time consuming preparation, low serving yield, impossible mess, carbs and butter...INFINITE GOODNESS.
The patato masher waits in the drawer (a word I never understood and still think should be spelled "droor") patiently for its moment of glory. It does what no mere fork can do, creating the perfect consistency of smooth yet substantial golden-white fluff. It is the hero at the end of a long battle with a patato peeler and a pot of boiling water.
It shines strong in its special, unique moment. Than it is washed reluctantly and put away to wait for weeks and weeks until its next chance of exercise.
God bless you, Patato Masher--a true American!
Monday, September 5, 2011
Once a Riverside Kid...
Well. I have successfully completed my summer as a counselor at Riverside. I feel as if I've grown a lot through the whole process. I feel like a completely different person coming into my second year of college.
But really, have I grown up THAT much?
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