Friday, June 30, 2006
to blog is to live
Last night I looked at quite a few blogs and enjoyed most of them. While I wasn't surprised to see the variety of things people blog about, it's different to actually experience it than 'know' it in an abstract sense.
Many of them I could not understand as they weren't in my native language. Some were from perspectives which were fascinating, others alien to me. Many were much like this is. It's a good thing to just page through blogs at random to keep yourself humble. Too much of one viewpoint can give you a false idea of what's really out there.
The reasons people choose to do this are as varied as what they write. For my part, this is an opportunity to express my own opinion and contribute to the community, and also a way to practice the art of writing.
We are social animals, and we need each other. It is a huge part of being human. Though we are sometimes disgusted with humanity, we mustn't forget all the incredible goodness either. There really is more cooperation than conflict, and we can be blind to that if we allow ourselves to be. Maybe I will take that for granted much of the time, and gripe about what's wrong with the world. But I haven't yet become a total misanthrope. Not yet.
Many of them I could not understand as they weren't in my native language. Some were from perspectives which were fascinating, others alien to me. Many were much like this is. It's a good thing to just page through blogs at random to keep yourself humble. Too much of one viewpoint can give you a false idea of what's really out there.
The reasons people choose to do this are as varied as what they write. For my part, this is an opportunity to express my own opinion and contribute to the community, and also a way to practice the art of writing.
We are social animals, and we need each other. It is a huge part of being human. Though we are sometimes disgusted with humanity, we mustn't forget all the incredible goodness either. There really is more cooperation than conflict, and we can be blind to that if we allow ourselves to be. Maybe I will take that for granted much of the time, and gripe about what's wrong with the world. But I haven't yet become a total misanthrope. Not yet.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Depression: Fear is the Mindkiller
From the time I can think of myself as myself I think I've been struggling with depression. Going back to very early memories I've seen myself as lonely and isolated. Different. Even as a member of a large family. "I'm not like everybody else. Something separates me from them."
Maybe everyone experiences that feeling, but doesn't necessarily interpret it as depression. But I can recall a time when I contemplated suicide, holding a knife in the kitchen of the house I spent my earliest childhood in. I couldn't have been more than 11 years old, and I think even younger. That's what makes me say 'depression' and not something else.
Always having that thought hovering in the back of my mind has affected the choices I've made during my life. There's always been a certain lack of commitment. It's sort of like going into a marriage thinking "Well, I can always get a divorce." There's tentativeness in that way of thinking that undermines success.
In my thirties and still floundering around in college, I began to get more anxious the closer I came to fulfilling my degree. Having spent years observing my cyclic moods, I knew I was in danger of blowing it yet again. If it doesn't happen now, I'll probably never be this close agin. I wanted so much to finally graduate, to bring at least one thing to a conclusion, that I decided to take control.
I talked to a doctor my depression. He gave me a prescription and I started taking the medicine: Paxil and then Zoloft.
I graduated. It felt good. There was also some counseling involved. Afraid that taking a drug daily would make me into someone else, someone strange to me, I found the effect to be subtle. So subtle, in fact, that when I could no longer afford my prescription I let it lapse. That, too, didn't seem to be a dramatic change.
I would sometimes attribute my finishing school as due to a placebo effect. It was my decision to do whatever it took that made the difference, not the medicine. Having now years later found myself mired in depression again, I'm not so sure of that anymore.
I have started taking anti-depressants again, and little more than a couple of weeks in I already seem to feel better. Again I wonder: is it the medicine? Or is it the determination?
For the time being, it's going to be both.
Maybe everyone experiences that feeling, but doesn't necessarily interpret it as depression. But I can recall a time when I contemplated suicide, holding a knife in the kitchen of the house I spent my earliest childhood in. I couldn't have been more than 11 years old, and I think even younger. That's what makes me say 'depression' and not something else.
Always having that thought hovering in the back of my mind has affected the choices I've made during my life. There's always been a certain lack of commitment. It's sort of like going into a marriage thinking "Well, I can always get a divorce." There's tentativeness in that way of thinking that undermines success.
In my thirties and still floundering around in college, I began to get more anxious the closer I came to fulfilling my degree. Having spent years observing my cyclic moods, I knew I was in danger of blowing it yet again. If it doesn't happen now, I'll probably never be this close agin. I wanted so much to finally graduate, to bring at least one thing to a conclusion, that I decided to take control.
I talked to a doctor my depression. He gave me a prescription and I started taking the medicine: Paxil and then Zoloft.
I graduated. It felt good. There was also some counseling involved. Afraid that taking a drug daily would make me into someone else, someone strange to me, I found the effect to be subtle. So subtle, in fact, that when I could no longer afford my prescription I let it lapse. That, too, didn't seem to be a dramatic change.
I would sometimes attribute my finishing school as due to a placebo effect. It was my decision to do whatever it took that made the difference, not the medicine. Having now years later found myself mired in depression again, I'm not so sure of that anymore.
I have started taking anti-depressants again, and little more than a couple of weeks in I already seem to feel better. Again I wonder: is it the medicine? Or is it the determination?
For the time being, it's going to be both.
Monday, June 05, 2006
House of Straw
One dream that has been so far unfulfilled has been for me to build myself a house. The idea seized me when I first did a house-sitting gig in the late 80's. It's never completely left my imagination alone since.
While friends were on vacation my then girl-friend and I watched over their cabin and yurt. The cabin was on a piece of land where it was understood that people could build. That got me thinking-- what would I build given the chance?
Inspired in equal parts by the yurt and by stories of navajo hogans, I dreamed of a rounded home. Thinking I could use timber on the property to frame it with, it would essentially be a central pole supporting the highest peak, with the roof falling away equally to every side. The most obvious advantages being simplicity, easy to heat with a woodstove, and close contact with the materials (trees I cut myself, not lumber purchased).
Though I drew a few designs, nothing came of it. I don't think it would have been advisable to build on someone else's land, or even possible to just build whatever I wanted because of zoning and all. But I had the bug.
Since then I have often looked at house designs and looked at properties for sale that could be buildable. I have come up with a few things that I'd like to incorporate into my dream house.
Passive solar: At the very least, build the house with some relationship to the sun, earth's major energy source. Even an ordinary house could be oriented toward the sun, with energy savings on heating and cooling. Every feature that's built-in to take advantage of that is one less bit of electricity to cool or gas (or oil or whatever) to heat the place.
Radiant Floor Heating: I've always liked the idea of heating the rooms from the floor up. Central heat has the disadvantage of blowing hot dry air at you. Radiant heat is gentler. They are supposed to be more efficient (15 - 20 % savings is not supposed to be unusual). I like the idea of a warm floor.
Slip Form Masonry: I have always liked the idea (and the look) of fieldstone masonry. I remember the church in my Dad's hometown and the stonework foundation on the church they built. I'm no mason, but I could do something called slip-form masonry. One of the charms of building one's own home is doing as much as one possibly can. This gives me another option.
Straw Bale Walls: One idea I happened to learn a little about is Straw Bale Construction. Basically, the idea is to use bales of straw (a very renewable resource) as bricks to build the walls of your home. They're cheap, they're thick, they're thermally efficient, they block out (or in) sound. Once the 'bricks' are in place, you plaster over them. I'm expecting a kind of French country house effect.
Timber Framing: Of course, one element that has kind of maintained its place in my dream house is the open use of wood. Timber Frame construction is another old technique, for homes that can last for centuries. I think with regret that I couldn't rescue the timbers from the family barn. There's probably enough good wood there to build a really fine home.
Part of the idea of building a home is the savings. If I could do some portion of the work, that's money I don't have to pay to anyone else. Escaping a mortgage wiould be a good thing. But there's also the pride of not only ownership, but of intimacy with the living space: I made this, it is mine in a way no amount of money can ever replace.
While friends were on vacation my then girl-friend and I watched over their cabin and yurt. The cabin was on a piece of land where it was understood that people could build. That got me thinking-- what would I build given the chance?
Inspired in equal parts by the yurt and by stories of navajo hogans, I dreamed of a rounded home. Thinking I could use timber on the property to frame it with, it would essentially be a central pole supporting the highest peak, with the roof falling away equally to every side. The most obvious advantages being simplicity, easy to heat with a woodstove, and close contact with the materials (trees I cut myself, not lumber purchased).
Though I drew a few designs, nothing came of it. I don't think it would have been advisable to build on someone else's land, or even possible to just build whatever I wanted because of zoning and all. But I had the bug.
Since then I have often looked at house designs and looked at properties for sale that could be buildable. I have come up with a few things that I'd like to incorporate into my dream house.
Passive solar: At the very least, build the house with some relationship to the sun, earth's major energy source. Even an ordinary house could be oriented toward the sun, with energy savings on heating and cooling. Every feature that's built-in to take advantage of that is one less bit of electricity to cool or gas (or oil or whatever) to heat the place.
Radiant Floor Heating: I've always liked the idea of heating the rooms from the floor up. Central heat has the disadvantage of blowing hot dry air at you. Radiant heat is gentler. They are supposed to be more efficient (15 - 20 % savings is not supposed to be unusual). I like the idea of a warm floor.
Slip Form Masonry: I have always liked the idea (and the look) of fieldstone masonry. I remember the church in my Dad's hometown and the stonework foundation on the church they built. I'm no mason, but I could do something called slip-form masonry. One of the charms of building one's own home is doing as much as one possibly can. This gives me another option.
Straw Bale Walls: One idea I happened to learn a little about is Straw Bale Construction. Basically, the idea is to use bales of straw (a very renewable resource) as bricks to build the walls of your home. They're cheap, they're thick, they're thermally efficient, they block out (or in) sound. Once the 'bricks' are in place, you plaster over them. I'm expecting a kind of French country house effect.
Timber Framing: Of course, one element that has kind of maintained its place in my dream house is the open use of wood. Timber Frame construction is another old technique, for homes that can last for centuries. I think with regret that I couldn't rescue the timbers from the family barn. There's probably enough good wood there to build a really fine home.
Part of the idea of building a home is the savings. If I could do some portion of the work, that's money I don't have to pay to anyone else. Escaping a mortgage wiould be a good thing. But there's also the pride of not only ownership, but of intimacy with the living space: I made this, it is mine in a way no amount of money can ever replace.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
My new guitar
While garage-saling I finally came across a nice instrument: a Montana M18-4 by Kaman (I guess they do Ovation now). Sadly, I wasn't able to find out anything else with a cursory search of the internet. But the guitar is in good shape, no cracks or warps, stays in tune, and sounds pretty.
I felt I needed a guitar because I mostly play to accompany myself on vocals and harmonica, and my Fender Telecaster doesn't quite fit that. What was needed was something acoustic. Now I have been playing some classical-style guitars, but they don't get along very well with my 'style' of playing. They also tend to have a rather dull tone and I wanted something brighter.
Playing harmonica is something new to me. I've always liked the sound of the harmonica, but never even tried to pick one up until one day a friend gave me what was probably a pretty nice one. Though I fiddled with the thing I don't think I ever 'got it.' It wasn't until years later, on a cheaper model, that the breakthrough finally occured.
Now I can play and create some simple riffs on the things, in several keys. With my rack I can play my simple guitar rythms to go with my little riffs and vocalizations. So it adds some complexity to what I do, to be able to have a couple of lines going at once. It's fun for me to recast some old psychedelic tune in the style of Bob Dylan.
I felt I needed a guitar because I mostly play to accompany myself on vocals and harmonica, and my Fender Telecaster doesn't quite fit that. What was needed was something acoustic. Now I have been playing some classical-style guitars, but they don't get along very well with my 'style' of playing. They also tend to have a rather dull tone and I wanted something brighter.
Playing harmonica is something new to me. I've always liked the sound of the harmonica, but never even tried to pick one up until one day a friend gave me what was probably a pretty nice one. Though I fiddled with the thing I don't think I ever 'got it.' It wasn't until years later, on a cheaper model, that the breakthrough finally occured.
Now I can play and create some simple riffs on the things, in several keys. With my rack I can play my simple guitar rythms to go with my little riffs and vocalizations. So it adds some complexity to what I do, to be able to have a couple of lines going at once. It's fun for me to recast some old psychedelic tune in the style of Bob Dylan.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
The Beatles at OSU
Last month I attended an Event: a fundraiser for the Corvallis Center Against Rape and Domestic Violence. The draw? A live performance of the entire Sgt Pepper's album by 28 local musicians complete with horns and strings. They tried to follow the original arrangements track by track, with an intermission when you would have flipped the vinyl (kids, ask your parents about this).
I attended the second of two performances on Saturday night. The concert was held in an auditorium on campus, and the place was full of people and excitement. The crowd a mix of all ages: many who no doubt heard the Beatles' album when it was first released bringing their grand-children; others for whom the Beatles always existed as a part of the culture with their children in tow; and college-age kids whose friends might be the performers.
The stage was crammed with instruments, microphones, and seats for the horn and string sections. The musicians were mostly young (to my eyes): high schoolers, college-age and a few beyond that. The musicians were dressed up for the occasion. Their leader was Charlie Parker, a doctoral student at Oregon State. "I'd had this idea in my mind a long time."
They did a great job, and the each number was greeted with expectant silence and rewarded with enthusiastic applause from the audience. Since each track on the album has a different line-up of instruments, each song performed brought on a shuffle of musicians moving on and off the stage. By the end of the night we were familiar with some of the personalities that were making the music come alive for us.
It was fun! It underscored in my mind some of the benefits and pitfalls of trying to cover a tune exactly like the record.
On the plus side there is the familiarity factor: there is something thrilling for some reason in anticipating exactly what is to come, especially when it is emotionally charged. We invest ourselves in music, and repeated listening to a track makes it somehow our own. We become protective of it. "This is how it's supposed to be!" We can even be roused to anger should the song's author (let alone another artist) deviate from the original arrangement.
Then there is the arrangement itself. We can expect that when making a record a great deal of thought is put into how exactly to best represent the song, what instruments should be chosen, the vocal harmonies, the mix of the recording, special effects... All of these things would be expected to represent the ideal presentation of the information that is the song.
But it can be difficult, even impossible sometimes, to recreate a record onstage. Even (sometimes) for the original artist. In a live performance you get one take. A recording might represent the fruit of dozens of attempts to nail the part. The mood in the studio might be very different than that in front of a crowd. The acoustics are unlikely ever to be the same. You might not want to take the lovely old guitar you use in the studio on the road.
In a recording session you might have your pick of the finest studio musicians in the business. In concert you have your road band. It's no big deal to hire the London Symphony Orchestra to record a bit of stuff to lay in behind the chorus, but maybe not worth the effort to have them trailing along behind your van in a string of buses while on tour. Instruments which can be captured on tape might not be well adapted to live performance in a bar or club or a concert hall or a stadium.
And then, what about cover bands? The arrangement on the record might also reflect the strengths of the original artist. But your strengths and weaknesses will be your own. Trying to slavishly reproduce another artist's work could come off very badly. Also one's musical style, one's choice of particular guitar, the timber and character of one's voice might make it wiser to arrange the song to fit your own particular talents.
Although I quite enjoyed the show I saw the other night, I must admit it could have been better. There's just no way it could acoustically reproduce the album exactly. No one could-- not even the Beatles. But they could have (possibly) made the material their own. And hearing musicians performing arrangements suited to their own voices and style is an experience that cannot be replaced.
I attended the second of two performances on Saturday night. The concert was held in an auditorium on campus, and the place was full of people and excitement. The crowd a mix of all ages: many who no doubt heard the Beatles' album when it was first released bringing their grand-children; others for whom the Beatles always existed as a part of the culture with their children in tow; and college-age kids whose friends might be the performers.
The stage was crammed with instruments, microphones, and seats for the horn and string sections. The musicians were mostly young (to my eyes): high schoolers, college-age and a few beyond that. The musicians were dressed up for the occasion. Their leader was Charlie Parker, a doctoral student at Oregon State. "I'd had this idea in my mind a long time."
They did a great job, and the each number was greeted with expectant silence and rewarded with enthusiastic applause from the audience. Since each track on the album has a different line-up of instruments, each song performed brought on a shuffle of musicians moving on and off the stage. By the end of the night we were familiar with some of the personalities that were making the music come alive for us.
It was fun! It underscored in my mind some of the benefits and pitfalls of trying to cover a tune exactly like the record.
On the plus side there is the familiarity factor: there is something thrilling for some reason in anticipating exactly what is to come, especially when it is emotionally charged. We invest ourselves in music, and repeated listening to a track makes it somehow our own. We become protective of it. "This is how it's supposed to be!" We can even be roused to anger should the song's author (let alone another artist) deviate from the original arrangement.
Then there is the arrangement itself. We can expect that when making a record a great deal of thought is put into how exactly to best represent the song, what instruments should be chosen, the vocal harmonies, the mix of the recording, special effects... All of these things would be expected to represent the ideal presentation of the information that is the song.
But it can be difficult, even impossible sometimes, to recreate a record onstage. Even (sometimes) for the original artist. In a live performance you get one take. A recording might represent the fruit of dozens of attempts to nail the part. The mood in the studio might be very different than that in front of a crowd. The acoustics are unlikely ever to be the same. You might not want to take the lovely old guitar you use in the studio on the road.
In a recording session you might have your pick of the finest studio musicians in the business. In concert you have your road band. It's no big deal to hire the London Symphony Orchestra to record a bit of stuff to lay in behind the chorus, but maybe not worth the effort to have them trailing along behind your van in a string of buses while on tour. Instruments which can be captured on tape might not be well adapted to live performance in a bar or club or a concert hall or a stadium.
And then, what about cover bands? The arrangement on the record might also reflect the strengths of the original artist. But your strengths and weaknesses will be your own. Trying to slavishly reproduce another artist's work could come off very badly. Also one's musical style, one's choice of particular guitar, the timber and character of one's voice might make it wiser to arrange the song to fit your own particular talents.
Although I quite enjoyed the show I saw the other night, I must admit it could have been better. There's just no way it could acoustically reproduce the album exactly. No one could-- not even the Beatles. But they could have (possibly) made the material their own. And hearing musicians performing arrangements suited to their own voices and style is an experience that cannot be replaced.
