Finals=NO-tivation

She knows the pain of finals

    My hands are sweating, my stomach is flipping around tying itself in knots, I can't eat any food, I don't get much sleep, and I look like I fell out the wrong side of an elephant. Looking in the mirror I grimace, as my hair is sporting a rat's nest peppered with highlighters and bits of notebook paper. I squint at my shirt, noticing that it is not a shirt at all, but an old towel strategically draped over my body. In my state of confusion I completely miss the fact that I am sporting two old hats as shoes, and paper clips as earrings. There is only one reason that I would ever look like this, and one reason only...finals.

My finals diet

    I had never truly encountered a final until my freshman year of college, and that was a stressful time indeed. Pepto Bismol replaced all real food, and my sleep schedule turned into something only Buddy the Elf could function off of, a full 45 minutes. Between handing in projects, taking tests, and getting ready to leave my body started to self destruct. The second final I encountered was even worse because I had to add moving out of my dorm to the list of things to spaz me out. I made at least 8 trips to my car, one time just carrying my fish and the next time an armful of pillows. My organizational skills flew out the window as I started throwing my plates into the suitcase jammed with shoes. There was no time to think, I had to somehow cram my life into my silver Impala and hit the road before the world exploded in my face. It took two weeks for me to stop dreaming about missing a final or failing a class.

Of course Norman Walter has a hat!

    This year is a little different, but that same old feeling keeps creeping up over me until it swallows me alive and suddenly I open my eyes to discover I'm riding down main street in a shopping cart being pushed by an old man named Norman Walter, who won't stop asking me to help him find his courage. After finally pointing Norman Walter toward the setting sun (everyone knows that is where courage comes from), I eventually find my way back to the dorm where my studies await me. I would study...but that's not really possible right now and I have a very legitimate excuse why it's impossible, I DON'T WANT TO STUDY. My projects are finished, I've put in my class time, and I've done all the homework...so why should I study? To get good grades...yes I know. But it's much more fun to pack up all your things in the most concise way possible and then smile because you rock at real life Tetris. It's also more fun to meet in groups of people and talk about why none of you want to study.

You Shall Not Pass!

     To be fair I have prepared for my finals...it's just the whole sit and study for a long time thing that I haven't done much of, because there are so many other things out there to see and do. The only problem with that is, I don't do any of those things. I usually end up watching television and yelling at the microwave for not producing a plate full of cookies when I put in a cup of water. Obviously the microwave is the one to blame for my lack of motivation, or maybe I feel kind of lost because in three days I'm supposed to be able to say goodbye to a whole semester and pack up my entire life.Whatever the cause of my extreme NO-tiveation is I know that no matter what, Norman Walter will be waiting for me somewhere off in the sunset, should I fail my finals. 

Pianist is Not a Dirty Word

     I started lessons when I was in second grade as a wide eyed 6 year old, and I couldn't wait to play the piano. Making my way up the deck stairs I went to the sliding glass door and opened it. A quaint little kitchen met my eyes and I placed my coat on the hook and sat down at the kitchen table to wait my turn. Finally the plunking stopped, and another student walked past me as Mrs.Sperry ushered me into her piano room.
    She was the cutest old lady and she always had on a nice button up shirt and nice pants. Her hair was permed and dyed and her huge glasses covered most of her cheerful face. That woman had the patience of a saint, as I was not the most enthusiastic of students. I was horribly disappointed that I could not play as well as my sisters (who were already at the intermediate level), and I was stuck with the stupid songs that made you play one hand at a time.

DIE THEORY DIE!!!

     Then there were the Alfred books, I hated those books. First of all, if you're name is spelled A-L-F-R-E-D, it should be pronounced like the man's name, not like E-R-F-E-R-D. This was extremely confusing and frustrating to me, as was the theory book. Each time I got to the next set of Alfred books(there were different levels and each level was a different color), I would hope and pray that I wouldn't have to do the theory book; and I was always let down. These theory books were supposed to help me get better at understanding my music and how to play it, but they were just a pain to sit down and do. I would sit there at the piano for what seemed like hours, erasing and rewriting just to get my theory homework done.
     Once a year we would have our piano recital, and that was the most nerve-wracking time my young constitution had ever handled. It was ether sink or swim with your piece, and I definitely had some duds in my day. I clearly recall royally messing up "Walk in a Rainbow", and that was a black day in my piano playing history. The recital was held at Mrs. Sperry's church, and the students would sit in the front two pew rows according to age. The youngest students went first and it slowly went up to the oldest students. Mrs. Sperry was a very smart woman because then the younger students wouldn't have to pay as much attention, and the audience wouldn't be disappointed after hearing some amazing piano solo and then have to listen to a dull version of "Hot Cross Buns". My mom would always make my sisters and I dress up for the recital and then we would have to take a picture with Mrs. Sperry sitting on the piano bench and all of us circled around her.

Rockin Out with ABBA

     As I got older the lessons were more fun, but then a new challenge entered my pianist career, accompanying. Both of my sisters had, at some point, accompanied the high school choir and since there were no volunteers in sight I told the director I would be willing to accompany. Little did I know how terrifying it is to play for a choir, and to have to watch a director the whole time. Our director took her music very seriously and she wanted me to do a good job, and that meant one on one practices with her.These practices would run me through the mill, and she would still expect more of me. Somehow I made it through, although once during a concert the director stopped the whole song because I messed up the accompanying. At the end of my high school career I was pro at accompanying because I had accompanied the choir for six years, and a singing group for two. My senior year went out with a bang as I nearly set the piano on fire accompanying an ABBA medley.

Juries Make Me Feel: Sad

      My freshman year of college I would accompany my choir during practices because any excuse not to sing was a blessing. I hated that choir and playing for it was the only fun thing about it. The lessons my former director gave me served me well and I was in my college director's good graces for my accompanying skills. Somehow people taking voice lessons found out that I played the piano and asked me to accompany them for  their finals. Each student had to sing two songs for a panel of judges to grade them on their semester's work...so no pressure on me. That was grueling work because each voice lesson teacher would want me to come in during their student's lesson time so they could tell me exactly how I should play the song. Now imagine this stress 5 times over and you have what happened to me at the end of my first semester. Luckily, my former training and current practicing served me well and all five of my singers lived through the juries.

Says it all

     I still have to play for those damn juries, but the most wonderful thing about being an accompanist is the fact you get to charge people for your work. At the end of juries it is a most excellent thing to have the money in your pocket and a satisfied grin as you recycle the copied sheet music. Looking back on those years with Mrs. Sperry and my choir director I have to smile. There were more than a few tears shed over frustration and anger, but it all worked out in the end. Then of course there is the joy I have in my heart when I am able to tell people that I am  pianist, and it is not a dirty word.

When God Closes A Door...

Rocking that...bowl cut?

    One of my favorite movies of all time is The Sound of Music, for so very many reasons. Julie Andrews is super awesome and pretty even with her rather interesting haircut, Christopher Plummer looks like an absolute fox in his fitted suit, Rolf is also very nice looking, there are puppets, there is singing outside amidst the hills, and of course a huge wedding with an awesome organ song. It's also extremely quotable and applicable to everyday life such as the quote: "Whenever God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Maria says this as she is leaving the abbey to go be the governess to 7 children, but today it happened to me.
      I was happily on my way to practice organ in the music building, minding my own business. Thoughts of rainbows and sunshine were prancing through my brain as it was finally nice outside, even after the sun went down. The bright fluorescents of the music building shimmered on the polished floor as I made my way past the practice rooms. I stopped outside the organ practice room and slowly bent toward the door to make sure no one else was practicing. Hearing no jubilant sounds of organ music I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned...to my surprise the door did not yield to my will. It also did not yield to my will the next three times I tried it, even though I pushed my weight against it and heaved a few sighs. I bent my head in sadness and slowly made my way to a different practice room to work on my voice lesson songs.

I feel her pain

     This is the first time I have ever found the door to the organ practice room locked, and there is a good reason for that. Posted on the door is a sign that says "DO NOT LOCK THIS DOOR" it also says some more things about not leaving the door open, but mostly we need to focus on the DO NOT LOCK THE DOOR part. I understand someone locking the door if they are illiterate, I mean come on, they can't read the sign no matter how big the letters are but I'm assuming the person who locked the door was fully literate. This assumption being made, now it is time to figure out why the door was locked.
    Some Theories on Why the Door Was Locked
1. Some person was inconsiderate and locked it to be mean
2.The administration has had enough of our organ antics and shut us down
3.Albanian dwarfs need it to conduct experiments with
4.The animals living in the organ needed to be replaced because they went out of tune
5.The Anti-Organist Alliance (AOA) received funding to replace the lock and throw away the key
6.Someone has started living in the practice room and it was bedtime
7.It is a known entrance to Narnia and Mr. Tumnis is sick of everyone teasing him about his scarf
8.Someone accidentally melted the organ through shear mind power...and doesn't want to reveal themselves
9.Artists are painting a mural of Norman Rockwell and need absolute concentration
10.French mimes are slowly silencing the world and had to start with an organ
11.Misconstruing the term "organ donor" someone brought it to a hospital
12.The organ finally made its escape and is now headed home to Germany(or wherever it was from)

    Now not all these theories are viable, I mean, who would be so inconsiderate as to lock the door just to be mean? I think I've got it narrowed down to the AOA or Mr. Tumnis, but one can never be sure when organ door vandilization is at stake. Perhaps I shall never know why the door was locked, or who locked it, what I do know that somewhere there is an open window and it has now become my life's goal to find it. I have high hopes for this window, and I'm assuming Julie Andrews will be the one to lead me there.

The view from the window Julie will lead me to

Vacation Destination: Iowa...no seriously

Vacation, all I ever wanted!

     Summer after my seventh grade year my parents and I went on vacation. We packed up the trusty Impala and headed south. I had the entire back seat to myself and sprawled all my various activities about me. With a book in my hand, headphones and portable CD player splayed across the seat, my pillow mashed against the window, and my water-bottle safely in its holder I was ready to go. A few hours into the car ride I was still awake. I should have been asleep, I mean, any normal 7th grader would have been asleep after the first two antique stores, but here I was wide awake and looking for the next stop. But once we crossed the state border I was out cold, and thus began my week long vacation to Iowa.

Insert Corny Caption

    Yes, you heard me correctly I was on vacation with my parents in Iowa. Sure we had relatives there, but we were going for fun, yes, fun. The thing about Iowa is, they are not kidding when they say it's all cows and corn. The state is literally all cows and corn. If you look closely you may see some towns, or a stoplight, but you have to pay close attention. As we headed into Iowa my brain had no reason to try and keep me awake. Even when I was reading my book, I still knew that I was surrounded by agriculture and livestock. Since neither of those things are novelties for me, I went into sleep mode. My naps would be interrupted once we reached a point of interest, such as the world's largest rocking chair. Fortune must have been smiling on me as I was given the honor of sitting in this chair and having my picture taken.

The Emblem of the some kind of Amish

    On this journey we also made a pilgrimage to the Amana colonies. If that name sounds familiar to you, it should. You've  probably seen it on an appliance at some point in your life. My eyes were allowed to behold the glowing, glimmering spectacle that is the manufacturing plant. The Amana colonies are kind of like the Amish, but not really, because after all, they do manufacture appliances. I can't give you the full run down on the Amana peoples but just picture some form of Amish that allows you to construct things that use electricity.  They are known not only for their appliances, but also for their wool. We got to go to a place that was connected to the manufacturing of wool somehow. I believe it was a museum-y thing, but I had been doing some heavy sleeping that day so I can't remember. While we were there we saw some people who I believe were from an Asian country, as they were speaking a different language. This made me feel a little better, and my vacation was made less lame by the presence of people from a different continent.

We'll always have Iowa!

    After our thrilling time at the Amana colonies we went to a German themed town...which may have been connected to the Amana's somehow. I don't remember the specifics of this vacation, only bits and pieces as I have mentioned before I was asleep the whole time between stops. In this town we had arranged to meet up with my parent's friends who were passing through that part of the state. We met up for a very hearty German meal and then went about discovering the town. While we were "hitting the town" my parent's friend Randy went into a toy store and came out with five pairs of huge wax lips. He then made us put them in and get our picture taken in front of the store. I have to say, it was hilarious seeing these 4 forty-something adults with huge wax lips. As we waved goodbye to our friends we continued on our exciting taste of Iowa vacation.

The Music Man...of my heart

    The next stop was one that I can remember almost every minute of, and that is because we went to Mason City. Some of you may know it by it's movie/musical name "River City". That's right, we went to the town of Meridith Wilson's The Music Man. We went to the Meridith Wilson museum and saw 76 trombones hanging from the ceiling and we also ate at a little Tea House that Shirley Jones had once been to. But that wasn't even the coolest part of Mason City, there was another museum in town. This museum was in no way connected to Meridith Wilson, but it was connected to Julie Andrews. Thanks to the help of an Antique Store owner, we found out that the marionettes from The Sound of Music were right there, in Mason City. I stood in awe before the exhibit of slightly scary puppets, taking in the fact that they were once inches away from Julie Andrews and one of the loves of my childhood, Christopher Plummer(second only to Robert Preston, who was in The Music Man).

Maybe they import the corn from Iowa

     While it is very true that Iowa is a rather dull state at first glance, I would say that dullness is in the eye of the beholder. Looking back at my Iowa vacation I fondly remember the naps, the stores, and the glorious time spent in Mason City(not even being sarcastic here...I really want to go back there). Some of you may think I'm completely crazy, but you have to realize that my family once went to Mitchell, South Dakota's Corn Palace for a day-cation(yeah that's right a DAY-cation). It's impressive from the outside, but there's only so long you can admire a building with corn glued to the side. Maybe that's why Iowa was so refreshing, sure there was a lot of corn but no one was putting it on a gymnasium and calling it a palace. So if you enjoy naps, tourist traps, and dull mishaps you really ought to give Iowa a try.