Epic Moments

Those moments in band when everything is perfect and beautiful and together and epic... those are hard to come by. When you're young, but after you've improved a lot, maybe in B band (certainly A band) at CMS, they're slightly more common, because you're young and excited about music, but not well-trained enough to hear the difference between in-tune and not-quite-really-in-tune. Then they get less common, as you improve and learn to constantly notice the way you and others are playing, to evaluate cold-mindedly. Symphonic band was the worst, in that respect – the entire year I never once had an epic moment. Even in freshman year concert band I had one or two. Marching band is the same way – by the end of my freshman year, every show felt golden, and this year (my junior year) I was never completely satisfied (several golden moments, to be sure, but never a golden show). But sometimes you can find a balance between your own ability level and that of your ensemble, and you get a few more epic moments. That probably would've happened in county honor band for me, but with only four rehearsals, even the best students in the county can't sound perfect. (Besides, our music selection was interesting, but we didn't have any really epic pieces, per say.)

This morning in Wind Ensemble, we rehearsed Give Us This Day, by David Maslanka.
(Mvmt 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zX9dvpQfp4I
Mvmt 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NW6uG-Z4cOk  )
It's a very difficult piece, but we've been playing it for long enough by now to have it down, except for occasional intonation problems. My favorite part is the last fast section to the end (measure 186 to the end, if you happen to have a score in front of you...), which has lots of noodly notes, then epic fast notes with a repeat of the theme, and finally a slow, brooding, medieval chorale, ending with a series of crashing, dissonant chords and settling into a sort of overwhelming rumble of sound that melts into your bones and becomes your whole self, until the magic is released and the conductor lowers his baton. Right as we got to the chorale this morning, the sun had risen just far enough to burst into sight through the window of the band director's office, and the whole left side of my vision was just glorious morning light as Maslanka's final chords pounded through the walls, the floor, filling the whole room and all the world beyond with light and glory and crescendos.

There are fewer epic moments, now that we've all trained our ears to hear every mistake. And I'm sure my moment this morning would not have felt so glorious if James Galway sat in my place. But I'll take them when I can get them.

A Year of Planning

 At this moment, no one knows of the existence of this blog. In fact, only my family and two close friends know about my plans that are the reason for its existence. But, if all goes according to plan, by this time next year my friends or anyone who is interested in seeing the world through another's eyes will be reading what I'm writing right now, on August 19, 2011.

Well that was an unruly sentence.

So the actual purpose of this blog, as you may have deduced from the title up there ^ “Wanderlust,” is to document my travels to many different places, since I have always had a worse case of wanderlust than anyone else I've met, and plan to satisfy it as much as possible. This will start, esperant, with an exchange student trip to spend my senior year in France.

As I mentioned, I'm writing this before I have even told my friends, and actually before I know it is possible. I haven't talked to my guidance counselor yet, though I've done RIDICULOUS amounts of research and contacted the obliging people at CIEE to let them know I'm interested. So who knows? Maybe it won't work out. But I'm determined not to spend another two years at my nice but boring high school near Sunnyvale, California, where I've lived for the past 16-and-a-half years. Somehow I'll find a way out. There's a lovely phrase in French “trouver un moyenne,” which is approximately “to find a way/a means” to do something, a phrase which I repeat to myself often.

And the “many other places,” you might ask? Indeed. After this, who knows? Not I. But I'll go to college somewhere interesting, and I'll try to do a year abroad there too, perhaps venturing to Cameroon or another Francophone African country. I find it likely that I'll work for an international charity organization at some point, to travel the world doing good things for the Peace Corps, or AmeriCorps, or Les Medicins Sans Frontiers, or whatever. I also find it likely that when I'm figuring out what to do with my life (a process I assume happens at some point between starting college and leaving it) I'll choose something that allows me to travel, like journalism, international politics, or even a normal but highly relocatable job such as nursing. (Yeah, you can tell this is really set in stone, huh.)

Until then, and after then: May we lead interesting lives! I will post observations about living abroad, perhaps some photos, or whatever other mind-vomit really needs to be here (more for me than for you guys, but I hope you few readers will enjoy it).

Oh, a few other things: 1) All my California friends know me as Jenna. I'm the same person, with two names. :) 2) If you were wondering about my, uh... creative URL (there are SO many blogs, it's impossible to get a sensical name), I would love to explain it to you! Envie de voyager is approximately how you'd say “wanderlust” in French, and I've inserted my name in the middle of it-- “Env-ikwe” de voyager. My name seems to have a history of creative mangling, after all – my dear camp friends might recall L'Iktionaire, Ikwe-itis, the Ik-squeak, or Lea's Icky-wee-wee. <3 Good times.

I'm actually posting this first blurb way after I wrote it. Unfortunately, I have little progress to report, a month later. My school guidance counselor is a useless lump of flesh, no matter how kind and understanding I try to be about it. I have everything totally planned out-- but for the past month, all I've needed as a next step is to talk with my counselor, and every one of the half-dozen times I've gone to see her, she's been fairly rude, too busy to see me, unwilling to tell me what else I can do or when she'll be less busy, and altogether thoroughly unpleasant to deal with. The introverted, non-confrontational side of me just wants to slink into a corner and forget about it, but with such a goal in my head (and internal murmurings of “trouver un moyenne,” and “never give up”), I keep going back for still more unpleasant conversations. Wish me luck, oh so-far-non-existent readers!

Amities, Ikwe