An open letter to music

Dear Music,

I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know how you'd be there for me all the time. I didn't know how you'd permeate every bit of my life. How I'd hear a simple cello line in a song and wonder, "Could that have been me?" I didn't know how I'd relish spending my precious little free time transforming you from a piano/vocal score, fleshing you out into a four part concoction for the girls to play. I didn't know I'd get to the point where I panic if my cello isn't prominent in the rear view mirror, thinking I forgot it on the way to a gig. I didn't know how you would give me goosebumps to play gentle lines, being part of something bigger than myself. I didn't know that you would fill me the way you do and be missed when you're not there. Would I not love you as much if you were my profession? Would I feel you as a weight on me instead of a joy? I don't know. Was I simply scared of failing you in not pursuing you? I don't know what the future holds for us, but I promise to keep you as close as you are now. I promise to do the best I can.

Love,
Tiffany

Why I Love Being a Musician

I popped "Piazza" back in the car's cd player. I think it has surpassed "Last 5 Years" as my favorite show. I really do. As much as I loved L5Y and what an intense, amazing cello book it has, Piazza is just....swoony. There's no other way to describe it. It's lush and sweeping. It's heartwrenching and beautiful. And when I listen to it I'm instantly transported to playing it 2 summers ago. I can remember all the little nuances in the score. I can remember all the little moments when Susan and I'd peek at each other enjoying a little string duet. I can remember emitting a little tiny 'yehaw' when Donna and I made it through that perilous, rhythmic passage.

Now I'm listening to the soundtrack from "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee" which I'll be doing in February. It's a teeny pit. Lots of delicious cello lines. Lots of hysterically funny lyrics and wildly outrageous characters. But there's a song. "The I Love You Song". It brings tears to my eyes every time I listen to it. It's heartbreakingly gorgeous and sad and touching. I can't wait to play it. And fall in love with another cello book.

First Non-Cello Sunday

It's about 5:00 p.m. est. I'm not finishing up a performance or en route home from a show. I feel naked in a way. But I had a glorious day. I was able to:

* Hang with Lukey-Luke all morning all relaxed-like.

* Try my Panamanian coffee in my one-cupper. (Which shocked the hell out of me as to how good it was - not bitter, not too strong and a nice aftertaste. Exactly what Fairway CoffeeMan described.)

* Have breakfast at Our Diner (the Infinity Diner in West Babylon, if you must know). I love that the proprietor knows us and whisks us to a booth immediately. And I love that no matter what I have, it's delicious. From corned beef hash (which I'm sure Kerry will have something to say about) to a veggie omlette to my usual vanilla egg cream, it's always tasty. Even when I take a chance on something I usually don't order like chocolate chip pancakes.

* Take an impromptu nap with a sweet smelling baby snuggled next to me.

* Finish Chuck Palahnuik's newest book "Snuff". He's such a sicko, but I'm addicted to his writing.

* Have a pot of homemade sauce simmer on the stove. It smells heavenly.

It's good to have some time to myself and a week off, but rumors are a-stirring that I'll be filling in for a few shows of "Grey Gardens" at Smithtown. Love that theatre.

And The Beauty Is

The Light in the Piazza. I am so so loving this show. It's my first 'real' run post-Lucas. I also really enjoy working at Smithtown again. It's the one theatre where I've done my longest run (8 weeks of Cats) and feel like a real professional. I like how professional everyone acts and just how well-run it is. (Or at least it seems to me) I also can't complain about the fact that I get paid regularly too.

But I just completely lose myself in the music when I play. I lose all self-consciousness and just for lack of a better word, feel the music. It's shows like this (and The Last 5 Years) that I enjoy playing so much.

More Beethoven

Played a short little concert today. Since I lost my cello strap I was practically chasing my cello across the floor as I played. Not so much fun. But it was nice to just play and to be appreciated.

Sometimes I love playing my cello so much that it scares me.

Remembering Emily

Two weekends ago one of my first cello teachers passed away. In some twist of coincidence, her husband plays baseball with mine. And her husband had visited the camp she worked at the summer I was a camper there. So, I had met him before my husband did.

But I digress.

It was the first time I had really intensive lessons. It was the first time I really delved into learning the cello. It was the first time I played "real" music in orchestra, not watered-down, simplified versions. (We played the overture to The Barber of Seville, the second movement of Tchaikovsky's 5th Symphony, the 2nd movement of Beethoven's 7th Symphony) Emily had me study Saint-Saens' Swan from the Carnival of Animals. Not only did I learn it, but she had me perform it at an all-camp assembly, from memory and with a piano accompaniment and a dancer. Never had someone had so much confidence in me that I could pull something like that off. She taught me to "feel" music rather than just play it.

There are times you know your musicianship is being changed. There's definitive moments to the shaping of who you are as a musician. For me, the first one was studying with Emily. She taught me to not be self-conscious when I play. To try making things up as I go along. To just take risks as a musician.

Now I wonder. I've posted my question to the universe as "The Three Only Things" suggests. I asked about what it is I really should be doing, and what it is that I'm meant to do. Hearing about Emily makes me re-visit what it means to me to be a musician and what I want to do with it. It makes me remember what a magical summer that was for me and how I felt like a "real" musician for the first time.

Mr. Beethoven, If You Please

I had a rehearsal for the Island Chamber Symphony. It's a small group (obviously, since it's a chamber group) and I simply get a gas stipend, not a usual check, but I get a lot of enjoyment out of playing for them. It's the only classical music I'm doing lately, and I feel like it keeps me in check and keeps my classical chops in gear.

We're doing (did, since we had our concert earlier today) Beethoven's 8th Symphony, which has this wicked little cello part in the 3rd movement. And I was sitting up front by myself. So I get through it, and the conductor says, "You know, I've heard Ricardo Muti do this with the Philadelphia Philharmonic and I could swear that it's one cello at that point, and since you did it so beautifully, how about you play it alone?"

I was mortified and excited all at once.

So we try it again, this time me playing the part alone. And it's this little minuet type thing where it's just basically the French horns and myself. And I manage to get through it again and sound not-so-bad.

And you know what happened? Everyone applauded! It was so cool. I was embarrassed and damn proud all at once.

The sad thing? I hadn't practiced the part like I had wanted to. I went in and winged it. And it just came so naturally to me. Which always makes me wonder and regret and wish and pontificate. Should I have been a music major? Where would I be now if I had? Is it too late to go back?

Back in the Saddle Again

Played my first post-Lucas show last night. It felt great to get out, it felt great to go to the theatre and just play. I lost myself for a few hours and got my chops back in working order again. And it's funny, the show was "Annie." Annie was the first show I saw on Broadway. I must have been maybe 7 or 8 at the very most. My Uncle Frankie took me and I really remember almost everything about it:

When Uncle Frankie called to tell my mother he wanted to take me to see a show, he said, "Go tell your mother I'm taking you to see "Oh Calcutta!" - which he and my mother thought was funny and left me clueless. I remember being so awestruck at being in the city and feeling so grown-up. Uncle Frankie bought me a Shirley Temple at intermission at the glamorous, sparkling bar in the theatre. He bought me a souvenir program that I still have to this day.

And so began my life-long love affair with musicals.

So I was glad that my foray back into the "professional" world of cello-playing was an old favorite.

The Saga Continues

So, all day I'm worried sick about the fallout from the Missing Sub at Thursday's Matinee saga. I actually cried a little over it. I mean, my reputation is what's on the line here, and that's just not cool. So I'm sweating it out all day, worried about it to the point where I really don't even want to go. But I do.

Long story short?

The sub LIED. Lied straight out and said it was my fault that there was no cellist. Ummmmm....no. I have documentation. Emails confirming that said sub would be in that seat on November 1st at 2:00 p.m. So my reputation is fine. The sub's? Not so much I don't think. AND I had a great show on Saturday night and the music director bought the first round of drinks (don't worry, all I had was pineapple juice) and showered his principles (no subs at that show) with love. So it turned out to be all good.

But I mean, can you believe that?

Chaos to the Googleplexth Degree

Yesterday was very black and white. It was either supremely good stuff happening, or supremely bad stuff happening. Which is interesting, because I'm a huge "the universe is balanced" believer, but was not making for a very cohesive day.

Bad Stuff
Work computer turned itself off about 4 times. Which we figured was due to my gazillion songs on/in iTunes. So I was given an external hard drive to keep my tunage and productivity up.

Find out that my sub for the afternoon matinee show didn't show up due to his writing the date down incorrectly in his planner. Ummmm......jury's still out on this one. I'm not quite sure how to process it. I mean, it was obvious that he felt horrible, as I would if god forbid I ever did that. But I'm still...unsettled by it all.

Work is just crazy. Tons of projects in tons of different directions.

Good Stuff
A luncheon I was invited to (toted as a tasting with Lydia of the Lydia's Italian Kitchen fame) turned out to be a surprise shower for me and Baby Jordan. I was so touched and so surprised that I started to cry. It was such an incredibly nice gesture that I really was bowled over. And it was a nice afternoon. Plus I got the Vera Bradley bag I wanted and a really beautiful elephant bank from Tiffany's.

Found out an event that was going to happen at a lovely location than on campus. Having a huge event on campus would have been a nightmare of logistics.

Went to Verizon Wireless to add Tommy to my plan and was able not only to get him a phone but myself a new one as well and because I procured both phones on one day, they were buy-one-get-one AND I had a voucher for a new phone for myself due to my contract being up, so my phone was free. Meaning both phones were free.

But all in all, I just melted into the couch when I got home last night. I plan on doing more melting today after work.

Lost in the Music

I had completely forgotten what yesterday was. Utterly and completely. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Should I be cognisant of the fact that 3 years ago yesterday I was diagnosed with cancer and started a long climb uphill to being healthy again? Or should I just let it fade into the past, as far as it'll go?

I was checking my email before dashing out to the Sunday matinee just in case there were any last minute directives from the music director. But there was an email from my dad. It was a journal entry had made 2 Februarys ago about a nice dinner we had shared and how it gave us some normalcy from the then hard routine of radiation treatments (I had driven 50 miles from work to radiation and then another 30 or so home - 5 days a week for 3 1/2 weeks). And under that was a new entry about how far everything has come and how I have this new miraculous event going on and where we all were 3 years ago. And WHAM! It was like a wet towel hit me in the face. How could I have forgotten? I mean, fall always reminds me of that hellacious time, where we didn't know what was going on with me, what was wrong, what would fix it. And I just lost it. Cried and cried and cried. Luckily, it's a long-ish, quiet drive to the theatre because I cried the whole way there. It was as if something had been bottled up for a long time and had to be let out.

By the time I got to the theatre, I was a little more composed. Crying had stopped and I was ready to just go it and play. I decided to just throw myself into the score in front of me and get lost in it. And it worked. I played really well (or so I thought!), and enjoyed the music. It's really a good score and we're at the point where we know our parts and are really just cooking together. The tempos are familiar and we just click along with it. I'm not even feeling pukey when those 2 honkin' cello solos come up now, I'm more comfortable with those.

So even though I was dragging my feet to get up and ready yesterday, it was the best thing in the world for me to have played. Cleared my head, got me going and made me feel good. While I was playing I kept saying to myself, "F&ck you cancer, you haven't taken ANYTHING away from me." A little cliched, yes, but true.

Another Opening, Another Show

So 'Jekyll and Hyde' opened last night at the "new theatre." What a hassle. First, parking there is abominable. It's either get there super-early or drive around for 20 minutes sweating and swearing, hoping someone pulls out of a spot. So luckily, I get there early and get a decent spot. Sit in the car and relax a little. Get to the theatre. There's a sizeable reception going on. I pull my cello in behind me and am told, "Ummm yeah, we're going to have to ask you to go around to the stage door on the side because we have a big client here tonight." What? Do you not see I'm lugging a cello behind me? Maybe you don't see that I'm largely pregnant. And you want me to do what? So I lug some more, find the stupid-ass door and the stairs which look like they were built on a 65 degree incline. Luckily, someone came in behind me and carried my cello down. I'm coming in a different door from now on and will sneer at anyone giving me flack. Then....we're told we can't go to the lobby at intermission. What am I? One of those immigrants traveling in steerage? THEN......we go to the lobby at the end of the show to get paid and we're told we have to put our instruments in the car and come back if we want to get a drink at the bar. I'm wondering what their deal is with musicians. You'd think they'd want to flaunt the fact that they have real musicians playing and not canned music. I don't get it. PLUS....the actors jumped lines during the honkin', high, exposed solo which made me sound like an a$$hole.

Luckily we get paid:
-fairly well.
-weekly.