A Different Point of View

Hello!  I have been asked by Kuli to be a guest contributor to his blog; to share what's been going on in our world from a different point of view.  Initially, I was a bit apprehensive to write in something so, well, public, due to the fact that Kuli's main audience are family and friends, and those who speak German.  Nervously trying to find an excuse not to write anything, I asked, "How am I supposed to write in your blog?  My German is atrocious." Kuli's response was, "Write in English."   "But your family and friends read your blog, and I know that some of your family don't read English." "Don't worry.  They can translate it." "But..." "You'll be fine." "But..."  I couldn't really find a better excuse not to write in his blog.  So here I am, a guest contributor, taking his request as an honor.  Here is my disclaimer; I am not a good writer, only slightly mediocre at best.  Those of you who know me, understand that I am a very, umm, colorful person.  I am at my best when I can rely on facial expression, bodily movement and various vocal inflection to emphasize my point, overall being and purpose.  I didn't pursue a performing field because I am an expressive "wordsmith"...  Oh well, I ask that you bear with me, and I will try my best to get (you and me) through it.  Here it goes: Last Saturday (October 2, 2010) I flew into Boston to re-take one of my doctoral qualifying exams.  I had taken two of the written exams previously in January and only passed half of one exam.  "How can you only pass half of an exam?"  I was asked.  It was shocking to me as well, not to mention an embarrassment.  I failed the music theory exam (which everyone does the first time they take it) and the voice section of the history exam.  I thought, and expressed myself out loud,  "Seriously?  I failed the voice exam?!  How awful!  Vocal performance is my major!  God!  I am such an idiot!  I'm never going to graduate.  I'm just too stupid."  Along with many expletives, tears, facial expressions and stomping my feet like a four year old terror, I decided to suck up my pride and talk to Dr. Pope, who is the head of the Voice Dept. at BU (also my former voice teacher, and current advisor), to see what I had to do to pass this exam.  Now, Dr. Pope is quite a character- self absorbed, flamboyant, and uses his personal catch phrase "Gotta tell ya" so often that it makes no sense whatsoever.  His physical appearance resembles that of a big Teddy bear and has a subtle prance-like gait.  His attitude and arrogance can be incredibly intimidating, so for me having to talk to him was personal torture.  I asked him what went wrong on my exam.  He said, "Your answers to the questions were terse.  You didn't delve in deeply enough to the topics."   Terse? Really. Really?! What the (expletive) are you talking about?!  I responded, "I thought that there was a word limit for this section of the exam, like there was for the first part."  Gathering all my strength not to show my frustration outwardly, "What can I do differently next time in order to pass this test." "Here are a few sources that will benefit you."  He pulled some books off of his bookshelf, and discussed with me how the information in them could greatly improve my chances of passing.  I wrote down the titles and authors, thanked him, and left as he wished me a less than sincere "Good luck."  With this meeting still fresh in my memory, I began to research the new set of questions (5 total) as soon as I received them.  They were, again, ridiculously vague - i.e. - "Discuss sacred oratorio and cantata through today."  Are you (expletive) KIDDING ME!!!???!!!  You can stock a whole floor of a library with this topic alone!  Whatever.  I was at Dr. Pope's mercy, and if I ever want to graduate, I have to comply to his inane requirements. I planted myself in the music library at the University of Michigan.  I can only read the books there, since I'm not a student I can't check out any books.  As I bitterly searched for books on my study topics, I realized that as I read through them, the topics became actually fascinating.  This literature provoked me to read more and more, and researching became like a puzzle- I had to find all of the pieces to make this puzzle complete.  Adversely, the more I read, the more stupid I felt.  I had a few nervous breakdowns (you know, the ones with tears, cold sweats, weakness, stomach aches, hopelessness, lots and lots of expletives... all performed in a very theatrical way by yours truly), but when I finally got a grip, I realized that just because I put on good "performance" didn't mean it would help me pass the exam. Now I was in Boston, which meant that there were only 4 days until my exam.  FOUR DAYS!!!  Oh God!  I ventured to the library with my friend Uli (I was staying with her for the entirety that I was in Boston), and set up camp in the music section of Mugar Library at BU.  I did this for 3 days straight, and as if by some Divine intervention, the weather was drizzly and windy and gross for the entirety that I was in the library.  This helped me to study tremendously.  There was no way I wanted to go outside in that garbage. Wednesday, October 6th came all too quickly (the BIG DAY!  Eeek!).  I awoke at 6:30am, studied, ate a breakfast that I could barely stomach due to nerves, got ready, went to the FedEx store to copy my notes (all 400+ pages), then walked to the College of Fine Arts, CFA, all the while in the crappy and ominous drizzly, windy weather.  I approached the CFA and automatically began to shake and have heart palpitations.  This building has been the source of so much of my stress for the last 4+ years.  I climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling as the thought he ceiling was going to crush me with all it's weight, and found a table in the corner of the lounge where I could do some "touch up" studying.  An hour and a half had passed, and it was now 12:55pm.  The exam was to start at 1pm.  I made my way to the Marshall Room, took a seat, and waited for my fate.  Which 2 of the 5 questions would be on the test this time?  As the test proctor approached me with the exam, I took it (all the while shaking a leaf!), and read the questions.  The first one was on German Lieder from 1889-1928, and the second was on current American Art Song.  I stared at the paper for about five minutes or so, felt like vomiting and crying, and started writing.  I wrote as much as I could for the first question, forgetting poets, dates, etc...  I then moved on to the second question.  I had a slightly better time with this one because I had only focussed on 3 main composers for this topic.  I had already written a few pages for the second question, when my stomach started to growl. (Expletive!!!)  How am I going to get through this!?!  I have horrible time concentrating when I'm hungry.  I had a banana on the top of my bag (thanks to Uli!).  I debated eating it, but figured "Screw it.  What are they going to do?  Kick me out of the test for eating?"  I inhaled the banana, and like magic, I remembered many parts of the test I had forgotten!  From now on, I revere bananas as magical creatures.  Although the banana was magical, it wasn't enough to stop time long enough for me to finish the last question.  The proctor politely told me that I had to stop writing now, for it was 4:03pm.  I felt like I had been defeated.  Again.  I handed in my test and my notes and slowly dragged myself to the lounge.  Wow.  All that work for nothing.  I sat there for almost an hour before Kuli messaged me with his Kuli-esque way of asking, "So, how did it went?"  What was I supposed to say?  That I had failed the test, again?  I decided at that my answer to everyone who asked was going to be, "I'm waiting for the results," hoping they wouldn't pry, and if they did, I would respond, "It's hard to tell."  Vague, I know, but safe for now. I finally removed myself from the lounge in CFA an hour and a half later, dragged my sorry self to Uli's and made myself a delightfully comforting dinner of Pujab choley (Indian food), French cut green beans and quinoa (Kuli refers to this type of meal as "Jennifer food").  I later met up with my friends Uli, Diane, and Sonja.  Finally!  Some social time!  But I just wasn't feeling it.  We went first to one of favorite standby's, Sunset Cantina.  It was way too busy.  Next, we ventured up Comm Ave. to a restaurant called Zocalo for the best sangria ever, just to find out that it was no longer Zocalo, but some casual French place.  Lame.  So, we went to Harry's- a nice pseudo dive with decent food and drinks.  I sat there trying not to think of that stupid exam, but it was like an itch that I couldn't scratch, and kept annoying me all night.  Instead, I dodged the exam oriented concerns by talking about what it was like to live in Ann Arbor, my voice teacher and lessons, and even a recent stink bug invasion that Kuli and I lived to tell about (ask Kuli about stink bugs).  I started to feel better, now truly appreciating that I have friends to be with again. After a couple of girly drinks and lots of girly talk, I said goodbye to Diane and Sonja, while Uli and I went back to her place.  I fixed up my bed, and passed out!  I was exhausted! I woke up the next morning slightly hungover remembering that I still had to submit my bibliography to Dr. Pope; not by his request, but by the wisdom of Kuli and the fact that I wanted to be absolutely thorough in proving my preparation for the exam.   About an hour later, I received an email from Dr. Pope in response to my bibliography and exam.  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh Jesus! I didn't want to open it, but morbid curiosity took over, and my hand (as if possessed) pressed the open button on my BlackBerry.  I read the first line.  "It's okay.  By the way--- very good exam." What?  What's "okay"?  I had to think for a moment.  Then I realized I had apologized for submitting my bibliography late, and he's accepting the late bibliography.  First question solved.  But the bigger question at hand was what exactly "very good exam" meant.  I had failed the exam!  Well, in my mind I had failed that stupid exam, and had surrendered to the fact that I would have to retake it again in January.  I read further.  He had asked me why I hadn't stopped by his office to say hello.  Huh?  Since when has he taken interest in me, one of his dumb pion students?  It also included advice as to what I had to brush up on- poets, dates, etc... and closed with, "Again, good exam."   I tried to wrap my head around this email.  Finally, after rehearsing what my response would be, I emailed Dr. Pope something along the lines of, " Thank you for your response.  I knew as soon as I left the building I had confused dates and forgotten some of the poets that Wolf and Strauss had used."  Panicked, I threw in,  "Me and my test anxiety!"  I felt that would some up why I missed what I had on the exam.  The truth is, I did know the poets and dates, and remembered as soon as I left the building, so I wasn't exaggerating.  I told him I would be in town until Sunday, Oct. 10th, and would like to see him if he were available.  I sent the email and met another friend, Basil, for lunch.   A few hours later, I received another email from Dr. Pope, with a very emphatic, "Believe it or not I actually am going to be [in my office] tomorrow!  I will be available before 10am... and after 2pm..." including many dramatically written constituents of his schedule...  Upon closing his email, there was that phrase again, staring me in the face, "By the way, good job on your exam." Ok.  This was 3 "good exam" comments within 2 emails.  This had to mean something, right?  I don't think I had ever gotten a "good" anything from Dr. Pope.  I didn't have time to worry about the outcome.  I would be talking to this tyrannical "Teddybear" tomorrow morning, and at the moment had to enjoy my time in the city I loved the most. Tomorrow morning came (now Friday, Oct. 8th), and the truth about my exam was to follow.  I armed myself with a "Joy of Soy" sandwich from Bagel Rising and a cup of lemon mate (Power Breakfast!), and marched over to the scary, ominous CFA.  I climbed those foreboding stairs up to the second floor, and went directly into the Music Office.  This wasn't Dr. Pope's office, but I felt I needed to prepare myself before climbing more steps to the fourth floor, where Pope's penthouse dungeon lie. I first talked to Jessica, the Vocal and Choral Coordinator of BU (also the test proctor).  She's a nice, laid back girl from North Carolina, who is quite approachable, unlike so many pretentious a**holes in the CFA.  We chatted for awhile, talking of her recent enrollment into a Master in Marketing program, living inside/outside of Boston, husbands, etc.  We were having such a pleasant conversation, I had almost forgotten my purpose for being there, until she said in her slight southern drawl, "Oh, by the way, great exam!  Dr. Pope was so excited when he read your test.  He was so pleased.  He opened it up and a minute later exclaimed 'YES!!'"  I couldn't help but give a nervous, but relieved, laugh.  "Really?"  I asked.  "He really liked it?  But I forgot important information and didn't finish the second question, and..."  She cut me off with a bright "Hello" focused at the entrance of her office.  I turned around to see none other than the one only Dr. Pope.  With a gaping smile across his boldly expressive face, he approached me with his arms wide open, and engulfed me with sincere hug.  This man is huge!  He towers over me and know even more so! "You did a great job on your exam!  Even with your 'test anxiety.'"  He added mockingly.   "I tried.  I know I forgot stuff, but remember now that Goethe was a Classist."  I replied anxiously.  We ventured up to his office (that fourth floor "penthouse dungeon") to discuss the exam, doctoral programs, jobs, etc.  And this time, his office did not invoke fear and heartburn.  In fact, the sun was shining warmly in his office and birds were singing in the distance (or maybe just in my head!) "Yes, your exam was so detailed and got straight to the point.  You added specific info about the composers and their music.  You definitely passed."  What?! I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!  I PASSED THE EXAM!!!!!!!!!!!  I wanted to leap and jump around his office like a fairy princess pirouetting on pink and purple sparkling clouds!  Instead, I sat in the chair next to his desk and thanked him. We continued to talk about job prospects, how to prepare a good interview and CV, and what to prepare for my oral exam.  "Gotta tell ya,"  Yes!  My visit wouldn't be complete without hearing my favorite "Pope-ism" catch phrase!  "You are one of my few DMAs that I can tell to, 'Go out in the world.  Be fruitful.'"  all complete with his trademark hand gestures.  At the end of our delightful conversation, I thanked him again, and this time bounded weightlessly down four flights of steps feeling alive, human and important!  I had been waiting for these feelings for a long time.  I stepped outside of the CFA, where the sun was shining, birds singing, horns blaring from the impatient Bostonian drivers, the T bell ringing, construction workers yelling at each other with their Bostonian accents- a cacophony of sound that was absolutely music to my ears!  I was in Boston; my "city" and "home."  I went off into the sunshine and enjoyed my last few days in Boston feeling accomplished and free to relish in a city I love!

Was lange auf sich warten laesst... (und andere Unsportlichkeiten)

Muss auch nicht wirklich gut sein.

Falls es einem der beiden Leser aufgefallen ist, hab seit fast einem Monat nichts mehr geschrieben (und keiner hats vermisst). Dies hat mehre Gruende und ihr koennt euch den aemrlichsten aussuchen:

1) Immer noch kein funktionierender Computer und Jennifer hat ihren mit nach Boston genommen. Wie ich die Woche nur mit Internet auf dem Handy ueberlebt habe weiss ich nicht aber probiert es bloss nicht zuhause aus -ist in etwa so nacheiferungswuerdig wie sich nackt in einem Ameisenhaufen zu waelzen.

2) Akuter Zeitmangel: Nachdem ich letzte Woche Montag habe anklingen lassen dass ich gar nicht viel zu tun habe und mich ein wenig unwohl fuehle wenn ich nicht in fieberhafter Panik Ueberstunden arbeite die Dank Gehalt nicht bezahlt werden habe ich dann ganz ploetzlich halbtags gearbeitet, d.h. einen halben Tag (12h und dies nun regelmaessig) und irgendwie war dann ausser zum Essen und Schlafen auch zu nichts mehr Zeit. Wenigstens langweilig ist mir nun nicht mehr.

3) Wenn ich nicht arbeite lebe ich immer noch in Ann Arbor und selbiges liegt noch immer in Michigan. Wenn man sich da nicht fuer College Football interessiert (und das tue ich wirklich nicht) da gibts auch nichts zu erzaehlen.


Sucht euch als den Grund aus, aber seit dem letzten Blog hat sich so viel nicht getan. Nur etwas kuehler ist es nun und die Farbe der Blaetter kuendigt an dass die meisten von denen schon tot sind. Sieht zwar ganz nett aus aber so wirklich auf den Winter freuen will ich mich noch nicht, besonders wenn dann ganz ploetzlich (heute) noch mal 25 Grad sind und mir selbst in kurzen Hosen und T-Shirt zu warm ist. Und der Pool ist inzwischen schon leer und winterlich abgedeckt mit einer grauen Plane.
Das Football Team der University of Michigan (ich weiss es interesiert weder euch noch mich) hat inzwischen seine ersten 4 Saisonspiele gewonnen, vielleicht auch 5 und heute spielen sie gegen die andere grosse Uni - Michgan State und jeder hier traegt stolz seine College Shirts und Trikots je nachdem auf welcher der beiden Unis man denn war. Ausserdem hat dies hat zur Folge dass wieder mal 200,000 Leute mehr in dem Kaff sind als eigentlich reinpassen und nicht nur auf dem Goldplpatz und sonstigen Wiesen parken sondern auch in allen Vorgaerten, Einfahrten und Gruenflaechen, demnaechst wahrscheinlich auch noch auf meinem Balkon.

Ein bisschen schwer faellt es schon sich fuer das Spektakel zu begeistern, ich war eben an keiner Football Uni sondern an einer Eishockey Uni (und selbst das liess mich kalt) und noch dazu in einer richtigen Stadt in dem es auch richtige Sport Teams gab.
Die Red Sox zum Beispiel, auch wenn selbige dieses Jahr ausnahmsweise die Playoffs verpasst haben und sich das halbe Team auf der Verletztenliste befindet und die andere Haelfte wahrscheinlich in alle Winde zerstreut wird bevor die naechste Saison beginnt. Damit loesst sich das Herz Boston's so langsam auf; ironischerweise wurde diese Entwicklung noch durch den Verlust meiner inzwischen 3-jaehrigen Red Sox Muetze unterstrichen. Vor ein paar Wochen waren wir endlich mal Kanu fahren auf dem Huron River, ohne wirklich zu wissen wie das geht und das endet dann damit das man im Zick Zack den bloeden Fluss rauf wuergt und sich schaemt wenn einen jemand sieht. Mein schnelleres Paddeln trieb uns zwar vorwaerts doch Jennifers Bemuehungen mit dem Ruder sorgten dafuer dass es dann doch alles nicht so schnell gehen konnte und wir den doppelten Weg zuruecklegten auf der kurzen Strecke... und weil das so viel Spass machte fegte mir ein spaetsommerlicher Windhauch die Muetze vom Kopf, was kein Problem haette sein duerfen da selbige vom staendigen Aufsetzen aehnlich dem Gefieder einer Ente gut geoelt ist und eigentlich nicht oder nur ganz langsam sinken sollte. Das tat sie dann auch genau wie ihr grosses Vorbil die Titabik, und da unser 3m Kanu Oeltanker einen ganz grossen Bogen fahren musste um zu wenden und dabei fast kenterte (malt es euch selber aus) war der Deckel dann leider schon versunken und mit ihr meine gute Laune. Ging also mein letztes und teuerstes Erinnerungsstueck an Boston (neben der am Steuer sitzenden Begleitung) dann genauso unter wie das Team das es repraesentierte.
Glueklicherweise beginnt zum Ende der Baseballsaison die Footballsaison und man kann schadlos von einem Team zum naechsten wechseln (und da hab ich auch noch eine Muetze!) und sich an dessen Erfolg den tristen Alltag ein wenig aufhellen. Und das haette auch fast funktioniert, immerhin sind die Patriots dieses Jahr stark in die Saison gestartet und erziehlen im Schnitt die meisten Punkte in der gesamten Liga. Das war bis letzten Dienstag als man beschloss den besten Spieler (und meinen persoenlichen Helden, eine Art Football Kobe Bryant) mal eben  nach Minnesota zu schicken. Fuer einen mickrigen Draft Pick! Das ist in etwa so wie sein Haus gegen einen Haufen Ziegeln und eine Tonne Moertel einzutauschen (der dann im naechsten Jahr geliefert wird) um dann wieder von vorne anzufangen. Grossartige Idee. Soviel zu meiner mich nun aufheiternden Football Saison.

Gut, dass die Basketball Saison fast bald und demnaechst anfaengt.

Ganz nebenbei bekam Jennifer dann schon vorzeitig ihr Geburtstagsgeschenk (von den Eltern) - ein hellgruenes Fahrrad zum selber zusammenbauen kaputt machen. Und genau das habe ich dann auch gemacht. Wie ein richtiger Mann ganz ohen Spielregeln das Ding zusammengezimmert, genau so wie das schon bei meinem Fahrrad fast funktioniert hatte. Nur das dieses einen Schnellspannverschluss fuers Vorderrad mitbrachte uvon dem ich nichts wusste (da mit den Pedalen am Hinterrad eingepackt). In Unkenntnis dieser Nebensaechlickeit schraubte ich als einfach die beiden Muttern an der Vorderachse los (auch wenn das richtig schwer ging, verdaechtig schwer sogar) und ruinierte damit das Vorderrad -denn einmal montiert drehte sich dann auch gar nichts mehr. Kaum bemerkt liess sich das Porblem dann leider nicht mehr loesen, besonders da es an Spezialwerkzeug mangelte. Der nette Mechaniker im Sportladen bekam es auch nicht mehr hin, fand aber ein Problem mit dem Kugellager das wahrscheinlich auch ohne meinen Fehl Eingriff bestanden hatte und riet das gesamte Teil beim Hersteller umzutauschen. Das tat ich dann auch, uebberraschend einfach, bekam einfach ein neues und diesmal sogar schon vormoniertes Fahrrad vom netten Kundenbetreuer in Sears der natuerlich wie alle Amerikaner schon mal in Deutschland (Mannheim) stationiert war und voellig verbluefft feststellte, dass ich gar keinen deutschen Akzent habe. Er war so verbluefft und begeistert, dass er mir ein neues Fahrrad gab und gleichzeitig Jennifer's Mutter ihr Geld zurueckerstattete. Wie ich spaeter erfuhr hatte ich also Jennifers neues Fahrrad geklaut und der ganze Laden war kurzzeitig in Aufruhr bevor der Fehler behoben wurde (und das ruckerstattete Geld wieder eingezogen war).
Und heute oder morgen besuche ich den Kevin im Sears gleich nochmal und versuche den Trick noch einmal, habe naemlich soeben meine Vorderbremse 'repariert' und nun ist der Kabelzug gerissen. Liegt aber wieder nicht an mir, die Feststellschraube fuer den Kabelzug an der Bremse hat naemlich beim AUFschrauben einfach den Draht durchtrennt, da waren wohl die Kanten zu scharf und ueberhaupt ist die Schraube kaputt.

So viel Spass fuer wenig Geld. Werde mich heut nachmittag mal an Jennifer's Auto wagen und sehen ob es dort nicht auch was zu reparieren gibt. Schmutzig ist es auch, also mach ich's einfach kaputt finde ich einen Defekt und gehe es umtauschen, spart mir die Arbeit mit der Autowaesche.

best,


-k