i'm a musician. no, i'm not in a band...

6am flight to Baltimore. Ok. So my chauffeur-girlfriend can drop me off at the airport and hopefully pick me up when I return. Flight: $384. Thanks, Orbitz.


Do I know anybody in Baltimore? Of course not. Well, I do have a 12 year old cousin who's going to boarding school out there who I haven't spoken to in about, 11 years. I wonder if an all-girls boarding school would be cool with a 23 y/o male sleeping on the floor in the student dorm. From what I remember, my cousin could be a boy - I'm the worst when it comes to gender recognition for children under the age of 13. That's why most people I meet with kids probably think that I am totally uninterested in their child because I don't say anything beyond "oh, a baby." Notice, I don't ask "how old is she?" or "what's her name?" - I couldn't stand the awkwardness awaiting "oh, HE'S actually a BOY and HIS name is Elroy, which is a BOY'S name."


Ok, so roughly $90/night at A Downtown Hotel which is four blocks from Symphony Hall. At least I'm saving money on transportation. So, my two nights of restless sleep thanks to the procreating neighbors: $200.


Food? Well, so far I'm spending close to $600 so I probably shouldn't eat. But seriously - three days and two nights? Maybe $4 for an overpriced box of cereal and $3 for an overpriced bottle of water which will see tap water refills and then an airport interrogation room recycling basket after I unknowingly leave it in my trumpet case at airport security and miss my flight.


Now I have to consider the audition list. Fifteen excerpts given, five of which will be heard in the first round. Beethoven's Leonore No. 2 is first, then Mussorgsky's opening "Promenade" from Pictures at an Exhibition. Not bad. In fact, I know and have practiced all of the excerpts on the list - I could probably play most from memory. But that's not what should be in consideration - it's whether or not I can play them perfectly, at one shot, at any time of day, in the worst conditions possible, and under all the pressures of an audition. And I have one month to prepare.


Now comes the preparation logistics by numbers. So, practicing 8 hours/day for at least 6 days of the week leaves me one or two 6-7 hour shifts at the cafe and my regular studio teaching schedule. I could probably end up ahead $700 for the month. $200 after I pay rent - if I don't eat and ride my bike out to rehearsals at UW-Whitewater.


So, should I take the audition?


Probably not. Here's why:



Girlfriend drops me off at the Airport. I arrive around 9am and my luggage is lost. No worries, I wore my suit so I didn't have to fold it and carried my trumpets onboard. I go to the hotel to check in and warm up. I arrive at Symphony Hall an hour before my audition time, take "Trumpet #39" card and find 45 other trumpet players warming up, playing through the excerpts as loud and fast as possible - some are even having unofficial range contests. No sweat, only suckers let this get to their nerves.


I walk into the audition. The hall is completely dim except for the stage. Multiple carpets lead to the music stand at the front of the stage with music set up, out of order. The lights are hot. The audition proctor shouts, "Auditionee Number Thirty-Nine!" and whispers to me, "whenever you're ready" and then goes back to reading her book. I flip through the music and find Beethoven's Leonore #2. The lights are so hot.


Already sweating, I look out at the dim audience only to see a screened off portion with the audition committee behind it. One of them cracks open a can of soda while another seems to be flipping through pages and lets out a loud sigh, probably thinking "Ugh, great, number 39 and 40, then lunch. I'm so thirsty. Jim was smart to bring a can of soda."


I take a long, deep breath and start playing. Great, things are going well. My sound is projecting and my body is responding accordingly. Halfway through the Leonore, I start to worry about finding the music for the next excerpt, Pictures at an Exhibition.


"Thank You."

What? Did someone say something while I was playing? Should I just keep playing?

"Ok. Thanks"


Wait, I'm not done playing Leonore. What? Thanks? You're welcome. Don't you want to hear me play some more?

"Thank you. Proctor, please bring in Auditionee Number 40."



That's fucking bullshit. I put my trumpets into my case, sweat dripping from my face and leave the hall. "That was quick," #40 says as he enters the hall. I regret not stealing the copy of Leonore off the music stand.


So, now I have two nights in Baltimore, a box of cereal, a bottle of water, and the clothes on my back. Maybe I can return the cereal and get a six-pack. Along with the desire to finish the six-pack as fast as possible is getting an earlier flight home and getting the hell out of Baltimore, but that costs an extra $100. I hate Baltimore.



Finally, upon my return from the audition, there's the big question to answer, "How was the audition?"


Well, I didn't win. I didn't make it into the finals, or even the next round. I didn't even make it to the second excerpt, in fact, I didn't even finish the first excerpt.


Then I'll be given the pitiful, "Well, was it at least a learning experience?"


Not only is it awkward while I try and think of how to answer this, but what do I say? Did I learn that more preparation would lead to the complete elimination of human error or defy the phenomenon of chance? Would a different approach to the technique of practicing make me better than the other 60 trumpet players? Should I have chosen my lightweight cotton suit instead of black wool? Maybe a headband?



"No."

a better way to keep in touch

I am proud to introduce to you (drum roll "berhrhrhrh") the Coco Chanel Phone! Er..excuse me, its given name is the "Chanel Choco Phone" and comes with a hidden keypad and screen. It hasn't been stamped with a price tag or a carrier yet, but who cares! Nobody threw any bones about the Apple iphone and At&t collaboration - and everyone jumped to their local Dolce & Gabbana to pick up the 18k gold Motorola Razr with a beautiful D&G stamp! My theory is that Chanel's brand loyal consumers have been asking for a phone that can squeeze (via the hinge connecting the screen and keypad/body) the fat out of high society's not-so-gourmet foods (e.g. hot dogs, White Castle).

So, if you're "sitting pretty in the Hampty Hamps," throw on some tights, Uggs, plush dog hair fur, and the biggest sunglasses you can find (preferably CC), rev up the Range Rover that your husband bought for you, and take that 10min. drive to the Burger King on County Road 39 outside Southampton. No shame.

Here are some more images. You're probably dying to get one.

alpha. genesis. 1개. whatever you like.

I've been wanting to do this for a while. (everybody. else. is.)


After attending a recent lecture given by pop culture journalist Chuck Klosterman, I was moved by his statement on the current status of our celebrities. He mentioned how the bar to be considered a celebrity has been greatly lowered in the past fifteen years and also spoke of our guilty pleasures in watching reality television (but not me. no. i never watch that stuff).


Chuckles explained why many viewers of reality shows enjoy the programs. First, the viewer relates to particular reality "actors" (there has to be a better word - my apologies) and sees these people as being famous due to their presence on television, and finally, they can consider themselves as being famous. Klosterman then spoke of how blogs, myspace, and facebook create similar situations where others can read about one's life or personality(ies) and in return, feel famous.


There you go. I want to be famous. If I had my way, I would be a rock star. ugh...


After doing some research on the blogs of close friends, blogs of businesses of close friends, and blogs with large readership, of whom I'd like to consider friends, I found many not starting their online sagas with proper introductions or prefaces. So, here is who i is. I'll try and keep it brief.


I am the product of two first generation physicians, my father making a ten year layover in Sao Paulo, Brazil where he didn't speak Portugese or...go to high school. That's right, Korean elementary to Brazilian medical school. But don't be impressed, he had to spend one year learning the language, and then a few working at a grocery store so he could save money, not for school, but to help feed the family. So, from that, you can probably guess what my childhood was like.


The mom and pops set my life up for med school, kids, hard earned but big dollars with a big house (with my parents living upstairs), a couple cars, and maybe golfing on the weekends. Typical Korean dreaming.


As of this morning, I am a street scholar with a bachelor of music degree and a twice-per-week cafe job. Salary? Health insurance? Sorry, we haven't gone over those words yet in ESL class. So far I know "tips" and for some reason I'm out five hundred bucks every "first of the month."


So here's a start to something great. Fame? Personal venting? Creative writing?



sure.