Tema (notorioustemo) wrote,

Yellow Jews and Blue Jews and Bruised Jews

So this was a horrible week. I was sick and sad and angry and I am still sick and I’m not sure about the other two. Maybe just resigned and morose. But that’s only in regard to my violin playing. Maybe.
And tonight Punch-Drunk Love was on Fox and there was no orange juice, so I squeezed myself some—oranges in lieu of other things I would have preferred squeezing.

And then I changed my strings. All four. And it felt wonderful. Since there was blood all over my old strings compliments of Paganini. And I know you’re not supposed to do this, but I tuned all the strings (sans E, which is just so kind as to stay where you put it) up a half step. Because I know they’ll have slipped, or rather, stretched, before morning. And sometimes it just seems as if it’s in my best interest to overshoot. A, D, and G, sometimes I wish you weren’t so flexible. Hopefully you’ll work with me through auditions.

And I also played Mendelssohn with orchestra tonight (sort of).

I feel as if I’ve had an extensive history with the Mendelssohn Concerto. I don’t care if Mendelssohn was a Jew, I really just don’t care for him. So here’s a little reminiscing. Or something.

So there was the time (exactly one year ago) Abe Chiang just happened to be in town from Stanford for a squash meet at Yale when I played the 1st movement with orchestra for the first time. Despite a good amount of arguing on Abe’s part, I never let him come to my concerts when he actually lived near me because Matt always came and I don’t know to be honest. But I had really wanted him to come this time, and he managed to get there three minutes after I had finished playing.

Then there was the time I played the 2nd movement for the first time at studio class last spring, the afternoon after Jeremiah had randomly slept over my house one night and I had not slept at all and I fell asleep in studio class and it was probably the worst public playing I had ever done but I didn’t care because I had been too depressed to play violin for several months and felt overwhelmed with happiness and Annie remembers how ridiculous that was. Jeff loves that second movement. I really, really don’t know why.

Then, I played the third movement for the first time at Mr. Vitek’s studio class in California. Jeff’s friend Mike and his girlfriend Sheila were visiting and I was oddly nervous about making a good impression on them and I begged Jeff not to show up at studio class with them. So I get on stage, and before I play, Mr. Vitek makes me “practice” bowing, because apparently I’m just not confident enough with my yoga on stage. And so he made me bow for everyone seven times and I pretty much started crying and then I see Jeff sitting in the back of the hall with Mike and Sheila and was absolutely enraged. And then I played and it was unprepared and Jeff had a good laugh at me and Mike and Sheila didn’t notice. Why is it that I am always most concerned about the opinions of people who are just totally incapable of forming any? And then we went out and I was still angry with Jeff but we listened to Cream and ate Korean food and he held my hand on a beautiful beach, and Mike said “Oh my god, is Jeff holding a girl’s hand?” And he was and I wonder if I will ever visit that beach again and hold his hand again. Let’s be honest: It’s impossible to go back to holding hands.

Then, a week later, I had to play the third movement in concert. So that morning I had to go play Brahms b Major trio in church (playing Brahms in church just feels— inappropriate). So I got up, exhausted (since I think Jeff and I had stayed up late being sappy watching Annie Hall). And I tried to be quiet as I toppled over him and slipping my clothes on just felt good in the strangest way. Jeff told me how pretty I looked, like he did every morning, and I don’t know, he was just sweet, and I went and ate oatmeal and went to the church that he and I had passed two years ago on some 2 am stroll. And then my trio played Brahms b Major, which is probably one of the most beautiful pieces ever written.
And I think it’s just perfect, because Brahms first wrote the theme when he was younger than me, then revised it right before he died.
And who can really manage to capture the innocence of youth and then combine it with pathos and knowledge and life and have it maintain beauty?
And Jeff says, or rather said, that piece is my mantra, and I think Jeff is just too beautifully kind and that I will never be pretty enough to encompass that piece.
And then I see Jeff, who was supposed to be sleeping, sitting in the balcony. So I got an atheist who normally requires nine hours of sleep to wake up with only six and come to church. And really, that’s just how Jeff is. Jeff, who gets his new girlfriend flowers twice in a week (once because she sang and once just because--- and he never got me flowers because somehow he maintained an exceptionally high level of originality and knows I prefer a card) and still calls to wish me good luck before a concert and is still honest with me. And to Annie's dismay, I do not think it would make any sense to phase him out of my life. And am I jealous because I miss that period just after your first kiss with someone when your mind is just buzzing with potential? Probably more jealous of that than jealous because this is Jeff. Things are just a lot more convenient when they involve people you don’t know yet. Then disappointment gets involved and friction prevents anything from achieving its true potential energy. And it’s funny, because I think I knew Jeff too well the first time we kissed. And maybe that’s why I was never scared with him. And maybe you need that fear to kindle a spark? Maybe I’m just too cynical. Maybe it’s time to stop rationalizing. I’m too rational with Jeff Taylor. Never embarrassed or worried or shy. I have to wonder why I was secretive. I still don’t think that my omission constitutes betrayal. But who knows.

So now I’m over fear, but totally lost.

And then after church we went back to bed for a few hours (I know—but for sleep, okay?) which was just excessive and just listened to more Brahms which was even more excessive. And then he put on Dvorak Serenade because he knows how much I hate that piece and was sure it was the only thing that could get me out of bed. And it did. And it’s like he and I speak two languages with each other. And then he went out to lunch with the two other members of my trio and came back stage before I played and gave me this ridiculous Japanese Pez dispenser that he had hoped I would hate. But I love it and it’s still in my violin case.

And I hate surprises, but sometimes I try to make an exception or two or ten, and after many a trial and tribulation, Jeremiah showed up to surprise me when I played with Mendelssohn with Manchester Symphony tonight. And my playing was sub-par and my mood was sub-anything-and-everything, but you can’t blame a boy for trying. And who cares about standards anymore. So that was sweet and thank god this week is over.
And Shane and Annie were wonderful, at least.

I need to squeeze myself a little bit more orange jews, maybe, and call it a night.

I forgot my mantra, and I need "to be more less"---
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