The Soundtrack to Your Life
I called in sick for my shift at the temple this morning, not because my cold was keeping me down, but because I didn't particularly want to pass it to others. It let me do a few other things though, like replacing the toilet valve stem that busted a few days ago, flooding our bathroom and part of our bedroom. The new valve I bought was made by Korky and promised to be 2-3 times quieter than standard valves, and was priced the same as the Fluidmaster, so I gave it a try. It seems to be living up to its claim.
Not working at the temple also means that I didn't have to shave my beard, allowing me to keep up my admittedly weak participation in Movember. I really should shave the chinstrap beard so that I'm just sporting the mo', but I haven't yet. I did start the month fresh though. Maybe I'll do it right and step up my prostate cancer awareness next year.
But let's not pretend that the highlight of the day was grooming and plumbing: it was the arts.
We went to see our friend Esther star in a one woman biographic play on the life of Fanny Brice, a popular singer and actress in the first half of the 20th century. We knew essentially nothing about Ms. Brice going into the show, but learned a lot from Esther's thoroughly engaging performance. A one-woman show must be quite the intensive undertaking, and she pulled it off masterfully.
I hadn't seen a stage show in quite a while, but there's something fun about being back in a theater. Is suppose that our youth never fully escapes us, and I retain many fond memories from my high school days building sets, running lights, sound and even acting in our fabulous O'Shea Theater.
Esther is, like many professional actors, an extremely expressive person both on and off the stage. I, on the other hand, am fairly even-keeled and reserved. I once oversaw a brand new mission companion write to a friend that I was strange, "It's like he has no personality." (This from the star football quarterback who had a particularly definable bent to his personality - and not one I sufficiently valued initially.) Suffice it to say, no one would ever write this about Esther.
But is what he wrote true? Of course not. And interestingly, my relationship with that companion evolved quickly over those 6 weeks and we developed a fair bit of mutual admiration and respect. I pride myself on being adaptable and he quickly discovered that I was up for various sporting outings, even if I wasn't stellar. I think he learned a fair bit from watching my work with people, serving in the Branch Presidency and trying to innovate and work in my own way.
That said, I'm rather calculated in my interactions, and so I don't always put myself out there. But art is one area where I do let myself be led by my feelings (as one should).
These days I take to the stage primarily as a singer (although also a conductor) and it's interesting that I receive comments for being particularly expressive. Whether as a soloist or one of 200 voices, people will tell me how they notice my facial and bodily expression of the music. Even in my few times leading ward choir during Sacrament Meeting congregants seem to interpret my passionate arm waving and body swaying as though I'm really good at and know what I'm doing.
Full disclosure: This is absolutely false. I am terrible at the technical theory of music and have very little to do with the fact that my choir sings well. I learn and perform by feeling. This must frustrate my choir to no end as there are times when I am absolutely incapable of articulating exactly how I want something to sound. I can show, but not always tell, so hopefully they pick up what I'm going for based on my short renditions of their line. Dynamics, you ask? Why no, I hadn't particularly thought of that. Do you see my arms waving in larger or smaller arcs? Do you feel the movement inherent in the piece? Ok good. That's it.
Quite simply, music moves me, which leads me to the last point about today: I've been refreshed musically this afternoon. There's a time that, like many youth, I listened extensively to the radio. I built a collection of CDs and MP3s and loved finding new tunes that moved me.
That instinct has faded somewhat. My mornings are set to NPR, and with a manual tuner on my old stereo, I don't move it often. Buying MP3s or an iPod have for whatever reason never figured high on my priority list since returning from France. Constantly walking around or sitting there with little buds in my ears just doesn't seem appealing. Cherry's fairly musically disengaged, so that doesn't help either and has eliminated certain habits, like going to sleep with music on.
But today we drove around a bit with the radio on and this evening I was alone at home, free to rock out to Pandora. (To be fair, Cherry signed up for Pandora, and we have had more music in the home since then.) I discovered Owl City a little bit ago and really like him. Pandora is great for learning about new artists, and one I found through that station was The Secret Handshake.
His "Little Song" has been the song of the day for me. He recounts the process of writing the song itself: one intended to express his feelings for for a girl he loves. The chorus line is, "I want to write the soundtrack to your life and live it with you."
The tune and beat of the song are infectious and had me, quite literally, dancing around. But the words spoke to me too. Music enriches our lives, makes moments vivid, reminds us of the past and brings us together.
I like the vibrant soundtrack that Cherry and I are building together, flavored with influences from all over. I want to write it and live it together. Maybe that's part of why I don't have an iPod. Music is personal, it's true. But it's also something optimally shared. Esther's or my talent on stage would be lost if not for an audience. One could designate "my song" but it wouldn't be nearly as evocative as "our song."
While "Hey There, Delilah" emerged as Cherry's and my song, I've got to say, I see a lot of potential for "Little Song" going forward.
Not working at the temple also means that I didn't have to shave my beard, allowing me to keep up my admittedly weak participation in Movember. I really should shave the chinstrap beard so that I'm just sporting the mo', but I haven't yet. I did start the month fresh though. Maybe I'll do it right and step up my prostate cancer awareness next year.
But let's not pretend that the highlight of the day was grooming and plumbing: it was the arts.
We went to see our friend Esther star in a one woman biographic play on the life of Fanny Brice, a popular singer and actress in the first half of the 20th century. We knew essentially nothing about Ms. Brice going into the show, but learned a lot from Esther's thoroughly engaging performance. A one-woman show must be quite the intensive undertaking, and she pulled it off masterfully.
I hadn't seen a stage show in quite a while, but there's something fun about being back in a theater. Is suppose that our youth never fully escapes us, and I retain many fond memories from my high school days building sets, running lights, sound and even acting in our fabulous O'Shea Theater.
Esther is, like many professional actors, an extremely expressive person both on and off the stage. I, on the other hand, am fairly even-keeled and reserved. I once oversaw a brand new mission companion write to a friend that I was strange, "It's like he has no personality." (This from the star football quarterback who had a particularly definable bent to his personality - and not one I sufficiently valued initially.) Suffice it to say, no one would ever write this about Esther.
But is what he wrote true? Of course not. And interestingly, my relationship with that companion evolved quickly over those 6 weeks and we developed a fair bit of mutual admiration and respect. I pride myself on being adaptable and he quickly discovered that I was up for various sporting outings, even if I wasn't stellar. I think he learned a fair bit from watching my work with people, serving in the Branch Presidency and trying to innovate and work in my own way.
That said, I'm rather calculated in my interactions, and so I don't always put myself out there. But art is one area where I do let myself be led by my feelings (as one should).
These days I take to the stage primarily as a singer (although also a conductor) and it's interesting that I receive comments for being particularly expressive. Whether as a soloist or one of 200 voices, people will tell me how they notice my facial and bodily expression of the music. Even in my few times leading ward choir during Sacrament Meeting congregants seem to interpret my passionate arm waving and body swaying as though I'm really good at and know what I'm doing.
Full disclosure: This is absolutely false. I am terrible at the technical theory of music and have very little to do with the fact that my choir sings well. I learn and perform by feeling. This must frustrate my choir to no end as there are times when I am absolutely incapable of articulating exactly how I want something to sound. I can show, but not always tell, so hopefully they pick up what I'm going for based on my short renditions of their line. Dynamics, you ask? Why no, I hadn't particularly thought of that. Do you see my arms waving in larger or smaller arcs? Do you feel the movement inherent in the piece? Ok good. That's it.
Quite simply, music moves me, which leads me to the last point about today: I've been refreshed musically this afternoon. There's a time that, like many youth, I listened extensively to the radio. I built a collection of CDs and MP3s and loved finding new tunes that moved me.
That instinct has faded somewhat. My mornings are set to NPR, and with a manual tuner on my old stereo, I don't move it often. Buying MP3s or an iPod have for whatever reason never figured high on my priority list since returning from France. Constantly walking around or sitting there with little buds in my ears just doesn't seem appealing. Cherry's fairly musically disengaged, so that doesn't help either and has eliminated certain habits, like going to sleep with music on.
But today we drove around a bit with the radio on and this evening I was alone at home, free to rock out to Pandora. (To be fair, Cherry signed up for Pandora, and we have had more music in the home since then.) I discovered Owl City a little bit ago and really like him. Pandora is great for learning about new artists, and one I found through that station was The Secret Handshake.
His "Little Song" has been the song of the day for me. He recounts the process of writing the song itself: one intended to express his feelings for for a girl he loves. The chorus line is, "I want to write the soundtrack to your life and live it with you."
The tune and beat of the song are infectious and had me, quite literally, dancing around. But the words spoke to me too. Music enriches our lives, makes moments vivid, reminds us of the past and brings us together.
I like the vibrant soundtrack that Cherry and I are building together, flavored with influences from all over. I want to write it and live it together. Maybe that's part of why I don't have an iPod. Music is personal, it's true. But it's also something optimally shared. Esther's or my talent on stage would be lost if not for an audience. One could designate "my song" but it wouldn't be nearly as evocative as "our song."
While "Hey There, Delilah" emerged as Cherry's and my song, I've got to say, I see a lot of potential for "Little Song" going forward.