Call from Sylvia who says John Ward is dying. Prostate cancer. Call from Gloria who says that Nora’s daughter went to doctor with heartburn, but was found to be nine months pregnant. . .. She ads that Walter Matthau, her friend Carol’s husband, wieghs 85 pounds and is dying, he too. Phone calls these days are always about diseases and death, never about love problems.
— Ned Rorem
Christi has reported in her blog that I no longer answer the telephone. This is not entirely true. I don’t answer the phone in the mornings.
When I had the flu several months ago, I was reading Miss Manners books and I got to a chapter on the telephone. I thought she was going to talk about telephone manners, but instead she talked about telephone’s lack of manners. It’s a machine and you are free to ignore machines. And anyway, it often rings when you’re in th midst of something important, like dinner, or a bath or staring out the window and you don’t need to answer at those times. I felt freed. No longer did I need to be a lsave to the phone!
And what sort of messages come through the phone anyway? The governor never calls me to say, “we’ve decided to succeed from the union to form an eco-socialist-republic.” (Although Christi once got a call from President Bill Clitnon, back when she was a democrat, telling her to go vote. It was a recording on the answering machine. Too bad you can’t transfer your voive mail when you move.) No, it’s always your uncle saying your grandma had a heart attack or your grandma died or your mother has a brain tumor or somebody is dead. These messages are infrequent, but they’re bad. Worse than I can deal with before lunch.
Otherwise it’s you boss or somebody’s boss wanting to know where you or whoever is and could you do some more work. Or your credit card company is trying to sell you more stuff to get you deeper in debt so they can own your soul. Telemarketters, surveys, impersonal strangers calling up to part me with my money. This is a disease of capitalism. I reserve my afternoons to deal with diseases of capitalism.
My friends hardly ever call, probably becuase I hardly ever answer. But telephone conversations are awkward with long silences and it’s hard to read the other person’s reactions. Am I talking too much? Did that last joke hurt her feelings? How can I tell, it’s the telephone.
Telephones exist to carry terrible news and they’re excellent at that. The first telephone message was when good old what-his-name who invented the phone spilled acid on himself and needed his assistant to rush to his aid. This set a precedent. And it can wait till lunch time.
Ok, I have to write a statement of purpose for my applications. I have a book that adviss me of things to think about (it also advises me to start my application process 1.5 years ago. arg)
etc etc. it’s all dull and weird and hard. yikes.
When I was in highschool, I had to make a descision between pursuing a career in computer programming or in professional tuba playing. After getting advice from my tuba teacher, I decided it would be smarter to study computer science. In college, finished all the requirements for my major by my junior year, so I started taking music classs and got interested in composition. I graduated with two majors.
I started a professional career in computer programming, the plan I chose for eceonomic reasons. It wasn’t long before I realized that studying computer science is interesting, but day-to-day programming is not. I had a hard time fitting in the the culture of sillicon valley. When I got laid off in 2001, I didn’t look for a job right away, but instead evaluated making a career change to music, but as a composer, rather than as a tuba player.
Last spring I went to the Composing a Career Confrence sponsored by the Women’s Philharmonic. Almost everyone else there had a masters degree and the presenters all assumed they were speaking to a masters-educated audience. Realizing I needed more education, I started looking into master’s programs. Your caught my interest because of you faculty, especially [professor] whose music is very intesesting and whose books I’ve read cover to cover.
Your program is also interesting because of it’s electronic music program. This is where my current skills lie, but I’m also interested in aquiring new skills in composing for pitched instruments. Since your program covers both types of composing, I hope to be able to hone my existing skills and translate them, while aquiring new skills, to more pitched composing.
I was chary of returning to JK’s lair after the peril that had last met us there. “Should we report back to HQ and let them know about Mr. Anderson?” I asked.
Shelia kept speeding forward without looking at me. “That was pure chicanery. He’s a prisoner of Dr. Cool.”
This was news to me. “Then why did gaurds hustle him to safety during the cacophony?”
She shook her head. “They were preventing him from escaping. Dr. Cool thought Mr. Anderson could give you a cogent argument to stay put until things cooled off. Mr. Anderson agreed, but then he was capricious and started giving you hints. Why did he say he was out in the dessert?”
I thought back. “He said something about avarice.”
“That’s one of the seven deadly sins. That’s a clue.”
“So Mr. Anderson is bolstering our side, so he must be an ally?”
“I’m not sure he’s an ally or was just getting tired of treating Dr. Cool with complaisance. I’m sure he’s being censured as we speak, though.”
“So whose side is he on?”
“His own of course. Isn’t that the adventurer’s canon?”
Shelia pulled the hovercraft behind a dune, but instead of barren dessert, a bucolic panorama lay in front of us.
“Agriculture!” I exclaimed.
Shelia shook her head. “This is no normal agriculture. Look at the way the plants burgeon.”
I watched a corn stalk grow several centimeters in front of me. “Good Heavens! How is this possible?”
Shelia pointed at the ground. “There’s a catalyst in the soil. The plants grow quickly, but their fruit is caustic.”
“Yes.” said a voice behind us, “and very toxic. Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly.”
We did as told. And found outselves facing a woman in a white catsuit.
“So, we meet again, Mr Anderson.” she smiled, “But this time you’ll face castigation for your trespassing. You will receive the canonical mistreatment of spies!”
It’s serious. deadlines are soon. but I still don’t have an appointment, but i do have . . .
Remember, when you make an ASSUMPTION you make an ASS out of U and MTPION. . . . Or something like that. Whose that quote by? Where’s my old GRE book?
My new GRE book sucks.
I awakened in an utterly austere room. I was lying on a cot and bare lightbulb hung overhead. I tried to sit up, but fireworks exploded behind my eyes. Afetr a minute, the fireworks abated. I swung my legs around to stand up. Standing was arduous but I stayed on my feet.
The door at the end of the room opened and a man who looked quite a bit like me walked in. “Jane Smith, we meet at last.” he said, “You’re lucky some of my agents were aboard Dr. Cool’s hovercraft, or you would be dead from astringent gas.”
“You have my approbation for that.” I replied. “Are you, by chance, Mr. Anderson?”
He smiled. “You demonstrate excellent acumen.”
“Thank you for your accolade. Why is everyone looking for you?”
He smiled again, but this time it was acerbic. “They say everone wants to be wanted. But it’s an axiom not to give away too much to your enemy. Ironically, my henchmen saved you because they thought you were me. If you’re amenable you can remain here alive, but imprisoned. Otherwise, it’s really the end for you.”
“Where’s Shelia?!” I demanded.
“Fine. Safe. She’s practicing being an ascetic, as are you. I must say she had a bit more alacrity than you’re demonstrating.”
“Why do you want us imprisoned?”
“Because I’m guilty of avarice. There’s a great fortune to be made out in the dessert, as JK, Dr. Cool and I all realize.”
Just then, there was a large explosion in the hallway. A section of the wall collapsed, opening up the hallway and my cell to the outside. Mr. Anderson umped out of the way and two gaurds hustled him to safety. “Sieze them!” he cried, as he ran to safety. Shelia appeared in the hole grabbed my arm and we ran together outside, where we saw the hovercraft. “Jump in!” She said.
She got behind the controls and piloted us away. The gaurds shot, but their bullets ricochetted off the armored hull.
“How on earch did you escape and blow up the wall?” I asked, filled with adulation for her.
“Oh, just a litle alchemy. I realized that my soup, when compined with bird droppings that I scraped from the window and some household cleaner would make a powerful explosive. Anyway, we must get to Dr. Cool’s hideout right away!”
I lost my GRE book, so I’m working on a different set of words now…
You’ll be happy to learn, loyal readers (yes, apparently I have readers. Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?), that so far I am keeping to my resolution of flossing my teeth. You haven’t lost your five pounds yet or written your statement of purpose for grad school yet or prepared for the GREs or made an appointment to take them or put together a portfolio or even compiled a list of schools yet even though deadlines are looming on the 15th for most schools and that’s less than two weeks away. No, but last night, my teeth were flossed, despite me feeling like crap.
I feel better today, but pretty tired actually.
ack i’m not going to get into gradschool cuz i’m too far behind and all i want to do is take a nap.
Stop reading my blog. It’s boring and it will just piss you off.
Happy new year.
I think I have the flu. Bleah. Yesturday, I just thought I was hungover, despite the rarity of being hung over after one beer and one glass of champagne, but you never know. I really doubt two days of hangover could be pinned on that. Luoi told me that there’s a flu going around.
I skipped on resolution mkaing pretty much completely this year. I still remember all my resolutions from last year. I had a plan, I was on track, then things went suddenly awry. I think John Lennon said that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. So anyway, I decided “no resolutions.” But that in itself is kind of a resolution and thus self-contradictory, so here’s my list of 2003 resolutions.
Hopefully I can keep to it this time. For some reason, when I get stressed, I just stop flossing my teeth. So I’ve decided to start flossing again and not just quit when the going gets rough. Otherwise, I’ll get cavities!
I’ll make more resolutions vis a vis my five year plan after I recover from last year. Anyway, I finally submitted something to the Jack Straw call for scores, so I’m not 100% off track. I called it No No Nonette.
Ok, now I’m going to go back to sleep.