gatherings and schoolmates

There are reasons why I avoid large scale alumni gatherings. In fact, I think a gathering of 5 is already too much of a crowd.

These outings and gatherings used to be fun when I just graduated from high school. We were kids then, and our only job was to study hard enough to get into college. High school was still a recent memory, and we tried our best to preserve that, before everyone's paths diverged.

Then these got less and less frequent as the months go by. Many forces draw us in different directions --- our courses of study, our time spent with our special other, our jobs, etc.. Besides the obligatory "what are working as?", we are quite lost for words when we do meet up.

And I knew that would happen. I've been deliberating whether to attend my middle school graduating class reunion. The attendance numbered over a hundred, which was pretty respectable for a cohort size of over 300 students. Here was a chance to meet many long-lost friends and establish lost connections! Besides, some of my teachers would be attending, and I really wanted to see them.

But such events are both overwhelming and unsatisfying. Conversation invariably stops when one has run dry of the "what's your job?" line. The fact is that most of us do not wish to discuss our jobs and its frustrations. We are forced to because there is no better conversation starters.

Group dynamics also tend to devolve back to those days when we were still 16 year-olds. In a big group, we still tend to cluster around people we used to cluster around in school, never mind that we haven't spoken for a long time. The geeks are still geeks and the sportsmen still hang around sportsmen. We have moved on in leaps, yet so little seem to have changed when we are back in each other's company. That may not be a comforting thought if one wasn't a well-adjusted kid in school.

So I opted to give the event a miss. However, I made sure I didn't miss the teachers I wanted to meet because of my decision. Of course, there are friends I wanted to keep in touch with, but I just didn't think the occasion fits that purpose. By striving to meet as many "long-lost" friends as possible in that one session, we sacrifice the depth of our interaction with them. Worse still, the brief meeting may prevent potential communication in future because we have "had our fill" at the gathering.

I believe that friends who want to keep in touch are already doing so. Hence a massive gathering that gets everyone together does little to rekindle past friendships. I prefer to see it as a business gathering.

If I seem stand-offish, it's only because I prefer a deeper level of contact with the friends I really cherish. It is much more satisfying when one meets another to share their lives over a drink or a meal, without the time pressure of having to "move on to the next friend" or "catch up" with as many friends as possible.

music of no boundaries

The composer cum guest conductor, Kuan Nai Chung (关乃忠), shared this amusing anecdote about the encore piece played at an SCO concert I attended last year.

About 20 years ago, a government body in Hong Kong that dealt with cultural affairs realized that they had some budget surplus that had better be used up in what I recalled to be a few days' time. So the composer was commissioned to deliver a work before a tight deadline. Naturally he became rather anxious for ideas. Somehow or other, inspirations of writing a short piece depicting a harvest ritual in Taiwan came to him. The piece was hastily composed in a matter of days, and became known as 丰年祭.

It then became a runaway success and was performed widely, especially in Taiwan --- an implicit endorsement of the authenticity of theme on which the piece was based on. It's popularity survives even till recent days, when it was chosen as a set piece for a school-wide music competition. One of the judges of the competition, who is a friend of the composer, remarked that he got really sick of listening the same piece tens of times. Just when he was relieved that his adjudication duties were over and he was outside the performance venue, he heard it again, played on someone's cell-phone as the ring-tone!

In reality, according to Kuan, he had never witnessed the harvest festival before the piece was composed. So he couldn't, of course, have been inspired by the music sung there. He declared that it is a totally phoney piece (实实在在的假货)!

It's funny how some popular compositions started out of modest, sometimes even disparaging, expectations (e.g. Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1).

The concert also featured a world premier --- Kuan's Erhu Rhapsody No. 4, played by SCO's concert master. For this piece, the soloist's erhu had to be tuned to G-G, i.e. the two strings were tuned an octave apart, instead of the usual fifth! The enlarged range comes at the price of fingering ease. A whole octave's worth of notes had to be played on one of the strings, and that would require much more hand position shifts. For someone used to playing on strings tuned a fifth apart, getting used to a new mental map of notes and their positions on the strings poses another challenge. The piece wasn't memorable on first hearing, even though there was some folksy sounding bits. I wouldn't mind listening to it again, for it expressed the solo instrument's niche while not succumbing to harmonic tendencies in modern Western music.

piano trio in a minor

I ought to take advantage of my workplace's promxity to the local conservatory. It offers a respectable selection of solo instrumental and chamber works not usually heard at major concert venues. And most of these concerts are free!

I heard Tchaikovsky's Piano Trio in A minor at the Yong Siew Toh conservatory yesterday and have since grown to like the piece. The night's performance was supposed to be a farewell one of the faculty members, who was also the principle cellist of the local national orchestra. The violinist is from the same orchestra while the pianist, by profession, is involved in the development of a private equity fund.

It sounded like a dialogue between the violinist and cellist most of the time, with the pianist playing a background role. The violinist and cellist had complemented each other well, while the pianist seemed to lack direction and awareness. It sounded awkward whenever both the violin and cello had rests, which left the pianist naked with his shaky tempo and edgy melodic lines. It was particularly telling in the closing bars of the trio, when the piano had to conclude the piece after the strings each made their final statements. In spite of that, it was an admirable effort on the part of the pianist, who is not a musician by profession. The piece is perhaps one of the most demanding work Tchaikovsky had written for the piano.

I wonder if the seats assignment was done by a human. There were plenty of empty seats in my row, but I had to be put next to another lady. Was this another not so subtle attempt at social engineering?

on motivation

It isn't extremely appealing to have to relearn the entire undergraduate physics curriculum in a matter of months. It feels like going back to grade school. Yet I can't neglect the preparation entirely. There's just too much I've forgotten over the three years away from college.

However, there's no one I know whom I can turn to if I need help. Since I'm in a working in a field with little connection with what I need to study for, my working peers are of little help.

It is not that I lack time. I consider myself lucky to be working in a lab where overtime hours are relatively rare, compared to friends in other jobs. A lot of my co-workers, including the bosses, see the wisdom of not staying back unnecessarily. Besides, a good number of them have families and kids to care for, which is a good thing because they can't get totally consumed by work and propagate unhealthy working habits. The unmarried folks don't work their butts off either. We get plenty of time to complete our tasks and no hard deadlines are set.

College was of course, a different world, not that there wasn't any similarities between that and the working world. Life never got boring. If things got monotonous, it would all end by the end of the semester. I liked how my schedule experienced a "reboot" once every semester and I never felt stuck. I was in a place where my peers motivated me just by the right amount --- not so much that I became sorely jealous, nor so little that school life became a party. I had many role models from the students and professors alike. I genuinely felt something positive was coming out from the late nights and hard work I've put in. Being in a liberal arts environment also meant I had much latitude to explore subjects outside my specialization. I felt constantly enriched. Then, life was going somewhere.

In recent years, things have become far too comfortable. Amongst my co-workers, I can hardly find someone as driven as some of my college friends, nor can I easily find people who share my interests. I no longer feel as eager to learn. I'm not feeling intellectually fulfilled. I feel I'm descending into mediocrity.

This paragraph from a book I just finished reading has a timely piece of advice:

"A good rule of thumb is that any environment that consistently leaves you feeling bad about who you are is the wrong environment. Have the courage to evaluate your job, to demand more from it, to put it on probation when it is failing you, and to terminate it when necessary. Dream job or no, you have a right to change your mind."

I need to reclaim what I've lost.

I've probably said this before: I should get off my ass and move on.

decisions and plans

My grad school plans are in a mess. Much has to do with my inability to leave the company. I've registered for the April GRE subject test, but now I'm thinking of withdrawing. March's schedule leaves me with little time to catch up with work I've lost touch with for more than 3 years. So, October it is, I guess?

I've not decided if I should perform in the March concert. It shouldn't take a lot of time, now that I'm withdrawing from the GRE. If I'm performing, it will occupy all of my weekends in February.

March will be a busy month. I'll be attending night classes on weekdays. That class will end in early April. One of those weeks, I believe there's another class I'm supposed to attend during the day. Gosh.

And there's the GRE subject test in October to prepare for.

And the music exams, one in September, another in December.

Somewhere in between those months, I've got to figure out my career plan. Major ones.

I'm probably planning a trip to China in August. Major celestial event. If I don't find a travel companion, I'll travel alone.

Oh, grad school applications need to be submitted by the end of the year, if I get around to it, that is.

Wait, GRE comes with a general version too. That's yet another exam near the end of the year.

I ought to accept more invitations.

I ought to stop procrastinating...

promises

I received a note, forwarded to me from a facebook friend recently. It was about the setting up of an alumni ensemble/orchestra. Someone had taken the initiative to realize a promise he made to himself two years ago, that he would organize and set up an orchestra for the former members of his high school's group.

Alumni ensembles and orchestras aren't that uncommon. My high school's symphonic band has an alumni arm, and so does a handful of bands from other schools.

Much has changed in the group that I used to be associated with. The members are more "professional" now, with many holding certifications from graded music examinations. Their morale seems high too. As an orchestra, they are even trying out pieces arranged by student members. That was something only one or two of my friends from my then orchestra attempted but never took off because of a combination of enthusiasm and expertise. I guess they were ahead of their time.

Their numbers seem respectable for a small orchestra at the moment. The present members are quite recent alumni, and their graduation classes does not include mine. I feel terribly old! They are nevertheless, looking to increasing their numbers in any ways possible.

Understandably, a lot of them hold fond memories of their experiences in the orchestra. Regretfully, I cannot say the same for my then orchestra mates. We were coerced into joining a student group --- the orchestra was a last resort, and a backwater of sorts. A number of my friends were only too glad that it all ended the day they graduated. So it comes as a surprise to us that the group we had dragged our feet to now has members who are taking the initiative to organize a group made up of alumni.

Will I take up the invitation? There's almost a 100% chance that I won't know anyone in the fledging orchestra. I'm almost certain that none of my friends from back then will have the technical ability to perform, seeing that we've been out of high school for at least 7 or 8 years. Plus, how long will the bout of enthusiasm last? While I don't hold the unrealistic hope that the group would flourish eternally, I don't want to see it fade out when the pioneering members move on to their lives outside of music eventually. I guess I'm not of the enjoy-it-while-it-lasts camp. That's quite a pessimist huh?

Nostalgia's for those young enough to remember.

yesterday's music

Tonight's concert (yesterday now, since it's past midnight) featured Chinese oldies and movie music. My fear of less-than-perfect ticket sales was unfounded. It turned out to be way better than usual! Those in the audience were, on average, middle-aged folks. It wasn't such a big deal, after all, that the younger members could not get their peers to attend the concert.

Most of the arrangements were quite good, and I'm not embarrassed to say that I enjoyed some of them. The orchestra piece, I later found out, is in fact arranged by Kuan Nai-Chung (more about him in a future post), a composer I'm starting to favor. And I just love the harp cum guzheng 千言万语 solo in that piece. It was really really ethereal.

How would I feel, when I'm in my 50s or 60s to be sitting in a concert hall, listening to pieces that forms my musical diet today? Today, this may just be another concert I perform in, one with its hiccups, technical challenges and foreign sounding song titles. But what would someone from the audience say?

I don't know how it feels to be 20 or 30 years older, but something stirred in me when I heard the amateur choir, made up of middle-aged men and women, sing 南屏晚钟, the only song I recognized, with a vitality, idealism and youthfulness I never thought would come from them.

我走出了丛丛的森林
我看到了夕阳红
又看到了夕阳红...

music from the ether

Presenting... the theremin, performed by Pamelia Kurstin.

Isn't that amazing? Now I'm really inspired to get one.

giving thanks

The trip home from the hospital felt less heavy hearted today. I was glad to see significantly less bile liquid get sucked out from mum's digestive tract. She definitely looks better today, and seem to be in higher spirits.

If there's anything my mum's situation taught me, it is to be glad that we are able to do the things we forget we can do, such as breathing, eating, laughing and drinking. I am, of course, blessed with so much more. Much more than she can ever imagine she can have when she was my age. My life so far has been rather privileged amongst a lot of my friends, co-workers and relatives. But I don't mean life is so perfect that I'm fully content with how things are going. I just realized that there's no reason, and I also have no right at all, to mope when I have so much and I'm at the same time not trying very hard to get my future in order.

an update

The themes in this post are not necessarily related.

I'll start by linking to this article from The New York Times.

The article makes for an interesting read from many levels. I'll just quote a paragraph:

“A century ago the same people who knew Schoenberg’s music knew Kandinsky’s art. There was no separation. Rubinstein used to say that at the turn of the century 25 percent of the audience played the music he was playing, and 70 years later 25 people in the audience owned his records. The responsibility is ours. It’s not the fault of technology. The person who wants to listen actively will get more out of the music than the person who just sits there waiting to be inspired.”

I guess the same can be said of many disciplines these days. How many people see the greater unification within specializations?

While I enjoy the concert experience and would gladly perform if my schedule permits, I hate being a salesperson for concert tickets. The concerts I perform in don't exactly have very wide appeal amongst my friends. I can just see them searching their minds for tactful reasons to decline the invitation when I advertise these concerts. I still can't take rejections well.

I'm becoming an instrument junkie. I've signed up for violin lessons! The first few lessons went pretty well. My teacher commented that I seem to have "played the violin in my previous life". I took to the posture quite naturally and managed to keep the bow in the same line when I bowed the string for the first time. It was quite a surprise even to myself. Some credit must go to my teacher. The string length on my full-sized violin is about 32 cm, quite a lot shorter than the 38 cm on my erhu. I need to get used to the less widely spaced stops.

If things go well, we'll have a family car next year. This means more options for stargazing locations and equipment. I should think about getting a larger scope. It looks like I'm not going dormant in amateur astronomy just yet.

I'm getting worried about the GREs. I need to absorb the entire undergraduate physics curriculum by early April next year. A lot of the content isn't very intuitive to me now. Studying for it is a distraction I look forward to, however.