Self-insertion and its quandaries

I have never conceived of my Shepard as myself.  Perhaps an extremely idealized version of myself in some ways - the “this is what I would choose if I were in this situation” mentality.  A lot of my personal traits crop up in my Shepard, magnified: the desire to do good, exasperation at ignorance, a carefully held-back desire to knock people’s heads together when they’re being stupid …

But my Shepard was not me.  There was something fundamentally not-me about her, and I thought that was one of the reasons I loved her so much: she was me, and not-me, and a powerful woman to whom, in some backwards way, since I ‘made’ her, I could look up.

And then I went to IMC this week [a few weeks ago] (the International Music Camp), where I interned with the drama instructors, and the coordinator described me thusly: “someone who has a wonderful “what more can I do?” attitude.”  I was touched, since I hadn’t felt like I was doing much more than what I considered my job.

I was in my car, listening to “M4 (Part II)”, by Faunts, which plays at the end of the first Mass Effect, and which always gets me thinking about my ME Shepard OTP (which is Shakarian in case you’ve been under a rock :P).  Mass Effect, and Commander Shepard, and all the other characters in this vast amazing universe, often get me thinking about life and its meaning and our place in the universe …

and then those sentences popped into my head.  ”What more can I do?” … and then, “This is my job.”

I realized that those two sentences described my Shepard perfectly. She sees it as her job to do everything in her power to make the universe a better place.  And I sort of feel like that’s my job, too, as an artist and as a human being.

Suddenly I had universes colliding, and I had a moment of mental vertigo. Commander Shepard - my Commander Shepard - was never really meant to be me. But she is me, in a way.  In many ways.

Or, perhaps, she is a woman whom I would like to resemble in some ways as I grow older and mature.

I think we see ourselves in all well-crafted characters, and so I can’t say I’m terribly surprised that I’ve started seeing Shepard in myself, and myself in Shepard.    But the way it happened … was just so … backwards.

Alright, musings over.  (Not really.  There will be/have been more.  Just not here.)

some thoughts on marriage

Preface: I've been in a relationship for just over four and a half years now, and have probably thought about marriage way more than a lot of people do in day-to-day life.  I'm just now starting to puzzle out what marriage means to me, and write a little bit of that down.  You're free to disagree with me, of course.  I think the meaning of marriage can differ depending on your personal situation, your culture/history, etc.  So these are the thoughts of one Caucasian, Canadian, Christian woman nearing the end of her teens.  They may or may not apply to you, and that's okay.

What is marriage, anyway?  A commitment between two people to be the other's partner, companion, friend - a promise to seek to fill the other's needs, directly or indirectly; a promise to guard and protect the other; a promise to love, cherish, adore, and respect the other as an individual - to uphold them with respect and love through any means possible. Marriage is a commitment to be steadfast when the other is weak, to love unconditionally through all the different permutations of love and life, to stand between the other and the world if they need a shield, or to have their back when they take on the world.

Marriage is accepting that it's never going to be perfect, but you want the other at your side, at your back, taking point, through all the imperfections.  Marriage is choosing to put the other first, and trusting that the other has your best interests at heart, and will do the same.  Marriage is trusting the other with every aspect of your life.

Marriage is living with a friend, near or far, physically and mentally, spiritually and emotionally.  Marriage is knowing the other is thinking about you.  Marriage is choosing to take on the world as a pair, rather than alone.

domesticity (or rather, the connotations thereof)

Domesticity is a funny word.  Does it mean powerlessness, or empowerment?  I suppose it depends on your personal bent.  I think it can be either.  For the person who needs to be out and about, domesticity can be deadly to the spirit; for the person who seeks a home ground, a safe haven, a place of their own design, then domesticity can be a godsend.

But don't we all want a home?  I would argue yes, but I would also put forward that home can have many definitions.  Home is where the heart is, after all, and if your heart belongs on the road, or on the sea, then a bungalow with a white picket fence just won't do.

How does one seek their home?  I have always sought escape.  From where, what - life? responsibilities? anxiety? depression? yes.  To where, what? ... Good question.  Isolation.  Art.  Intelligence.  A place where I am unafraid.  That is home - where you are unafraid to express yourself.  

I wonder how many artists are ever truly home, in their heart of hearts, in their soul.  

There is beauty in so many things.  There are no confines to beauty.  On beauty.  Beauty has no limits.  We see beauty differently.  And isn't that terrifying?

IMC, day 2

Monday was pretty calm.  Woke up a bit later than I meant to, but it worked out okay.  It turns out that there are more people here at camp who remember me than I thought there would be - there are at least five or six campers who were at camp when I was, which was pretty cool.  A couple of them did a bit of a freak-out when they saw me in the breakfast line, which I found kinda touching.  :)

After breakfast, I met up with the instructors one-by-one, and we all touched base, said hello, nice to see you again, etc.  This morning, I ended up helping out with the stage combat workshop, and then being a tech for a large group activity (I pressed Play, and Stop, in succession).  Good to learn the ropes ... and to find that I haven't forgotten all the stuff I learned when I was here, three/four years ago ... sheesh, I feel kinda old now.  That's weird.

I had lunch with my friends, feeling distinctly at-home in the drama-camp atmosphere (about time I came back here, it feels so good), and then had a short break where I untangled all my necklaces.  The afternoon consisted of helping out with an image theatre workshop (acting with senses and such, exploring the human mind as it relates to the body) and then observing another large group activity.  I then stapled music together, figured out part of the piano accompaniment to said music, and went to dinner.  Dinner is served absurdly early here ... the faculty eats at 4.45, the campers at 5.  It's so that we have one more hour of class/rehearsal before the evening activities, but still, you end up hungry again ...

I had dinner with the faculty (which is really weird after you've been a camper ... not waiting in line?  what?), and then went to the staff lounge (sheesh, it's like I work here or something) to see if I could get some Internet going.  My laptop's wireless card is dead as a doornail, so I have to plug a LAN cable in somewhere.  Luckily I managed it, and it really only depends on whether or not someone is using the communal desktop, which is easily worked around.  So many people here have laptops - there are nine in the room right now, as I type.  It's crazy.  We're all connected, even out here.

I found out, during my brief stint on the Interwebs, that I may have a job lined up for July and August, living with my grandmother a couple hours north of where I am now.  It's probably my best bet for a job right now, as I kind of doubt I will be able to land anything when I go back to Winnipeg at last, but I was given so few details that I don't want to say an unqualified yes.

The final hour of class today was the introduction and learning of the group musical number (the music which I stapled earlier), which went quite well ... not too surprising, as probably 90% of the drama kids already knew it rather well.  It's Seasons of Love, from Rent ("Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes ... " etc).

After that final hour of class, I went back to the faculty lounge (where I sit now) and called my grandmother via Skype (long-distance pay-phone fees are exorbitant) to get more details about this potential job ... and of course she was not there, or did not hear the phone.  I left a message and said I'd call back.  So I will.  Soon.  I'm not exactly looking forward to the reaction of my younger sisters, if I end up getting this job - they will not be impressed that I may not be coming home this summer ...

VISI, day 8

Today flipped over about midway through.

I did not get up at six, as I had wanted to, but at seven-thirty.  Sleeping better with a blanket on top and more towels added to the pile underneath ...  

I went to the performance psychology class, and after that intimate and gentle cajoling of intentions, past experiences, goals, motivations, etc ... I was kaput.  I was depressed.  I was so down.  I could not possibly face two hours of lecture and masterclass.  It just wasn't going to work - not unless I shut down entirely, sat at the back and spent the rest of the day closed to everything ... which was the whole point of the psychology class to get away from, now that I think about, so in the end this was a good thing that ... I didn't go.  I escaped back to my room, spent a while just breathing and reminding myself that it was okay to be hurting, and then wrote a bit.  Not a lot, just a bit.  I'm easing back into the whole writing thing - it bothers me that I don't write as much fiction as I'd like, and instead I do a lot of journaling and written-daydreaming (though mostly journaling nowadays).  Maybe the fiction will come.  Right now my life is tough enough in my head (which on its own makes me sound incredibly egotistical ... one of the things I journal about).

I forced myself out to the concert at one, which wasn't worth it, in my opinion.  I didn't particularly like the voice of the mezzo who was performing - couldn't understand all her words, some of her emotions felt a bit contrived - but I think my lack of connection was mostly due to my mental state, which was still right down in the dumps.  The first lecture afterwards was nice - an hour and a half on why diction is important and how it's actually interesting (which had never really been articulated to me - diction was just a tool before this afternoon, and now, having been contextualized into language, which I adore, it is much more interesting), but the second session ... the coaching ... 

The man coaching, a pianist named Dr Harley who teaches out of Washington DC, was absolutely fantastic.  I ended up going first, and we worked through Die Mainacht (a song I must have coached four times now).  He made it come alive like no other coach had managed to do, and he did more talking than I did singing but it was so fascinating that I really didn't mind.  Each other singer's session was just as fascinating, and I felt my spirits lifting even as he was saying hello and introducing himself at the beginning.  He's very British, and very funny, and managed to hit the right combination of suggestion, encouragement, and a very little bit of correction.  It didn't feel like correction at all, though - just, "well, why don't we try it this way, because xyz?"  reaction: holy crap that is precisely what this means.  It was glorious.  I would definitely want to work with him again.

Right after lectures, I popped away to do a bit of grocery shopping, and then came home.  Eating some dinner now - just veggies and dip (bought an amazing masala salad dressing, love it), will have rice tomorrow sometime.  Yay for buying interesting things, not just staples!

I am feeling better about life right now, but I feel as it the balance is very fragile.  I still feel very tired, and my body is not the way it was before - I am stiff and sore still, and it is very painful to stretch in the morning.  Stupid bed.  Ow.  On the other hand, fresh fruit and vegetables, and the hope for more coachings like this afternoon's ...  and maybe, just maybe, more writing. 

VISI, day 7

Today has been less tiring than the last few.  I put my blankets underneath me, adding to the mattress, and only slept under a sheet - it's a good thing Vancouver is warm even at night, otherwise I would have frozen.  Even as it was I kept waking up because I was cold, but I got a better sleep and was able to cajole myself out of bed.

I went to the performance psychology seminar at nine, during which we looked at our motivation and ignition tactics, as well as whether the focus was external or internal.  I found that much of my motivation was internal, but I feel very much dependent on the outer attention and approbation I receive, which I found interesting ...  The things which ignite me were simpler, but harder to focus on - I thought about rewards, and then thought about the things I receive after a performance ... more concrete than my motivators.  It was an interesting exercise, but difficult.  I walked out feeling tired and beaten down - not through any fault of the instructor, no, she was wonderful and understanding and encouraging - simply because it is difficult to look at what motivates me without thinking about how difficult this all is, and how tiring life seems to be these days ... 

Sitting through two lectures was hard, but not impossible - very interesting topics, as always.  The first was about how Schubert conceived of his Lieder, covering topics including original keys, transposition, published vs. manuscript copies, etc.  Fascinating.  Probably more so if I'd been more awake.  The second lecture was about the sonnet Silent Noon (Dante Rossetti).  Very much an English class - a bit more advanced than IB, but more or less the same thing.  I connected very closely to it ... makes me wonder again about writing as a career ... 

(no, I still think I have to do more than one thing.  I need variety.)

After the lectures, I showered and had lunch, then went for the two coachings of the day.  Both were somewhat piano-centric, which was nice for a change - I could work on the things that the coach told me, but I had a little bit less to remember.  The second one was particularly good: I worked on Die Mainacht, and the focus of the coaching was really dramatic - what is the story I am telling, how can I make the phrases work for me in this way, and so on.  It made singing the song a lot easier with just a few small adjustments!

My pianist and I practiced briefly afterwards, and then I headed back to the dorms to make supper.  Since then I've been checking up on the world and talking to people.  I'm going to try to head to bed around ten tonight, and wake up at six - another Manitoban said that it worked really well for her, with the schedule we're keeping, to be up earlier than classes started rather than later after they finished, with the added bonus of still more-or-less being on Manitoba time. 

'Post-script': when I first arrived on campus I saw a truck that said "UBC Plant Operations".  I thought, oh, wouldn't it be funny if it actually had to do with plants, since there's so many around?  But I had seen similar trucks on my home campus, and it's just the physical plant operations - maintenance and such.  The next day (or later that day, I don't remember), I saw another truck like that ... except it had a trailer, and it was full of gardening implements.  It turns out it really does mean plant operations!  The trucks show up all over the place, tending to the flowerbeds and trees and such.  One flowerbed went from prairie wildflowers to bedding plants in about two days.  It was a bit surreal.

moments when you realize you're an artist

And in my case, a musician, more often than not.

I had a very strange and surreal moment yesterday morning.  I realized that I was off the beat - as in not playing on the beat.  In time.  It wasn't a regular beat.

I then abruptly came to a halt in my thinking as I realized that, in fact, I was not living my life in any specific time signature at all, and furthermore, never had.  And this was truly a terrible thing.

And then I pondered where the heck that came from.

December 15th, update; life, update

Last thing: YouTube proof. That would be me, ladies and gentlemen. :D

(yay)

Also: school. is nuts. To do:

• chemistry lab report
• French written task
• study material for French oral commentary
• finish/reread La Princesse de Clèves
• finish/reread L'enfant noir
• read/reread La misanthrope
• revise history assignment
• prepare English oral presentation on Hamlet
• • write and annotate script
  • prepare writing variables sheet
  • prepare props and costume
  • oh, memorize script
• reread Running in the Family for detail test
• reread Hamlet for commentary test
• prepare English oral commentary on Running in the Family
• prepare lesson plan and material for concert band piece
• write first draft of Extended Essay
• write and revise Theory of Knowledge essay
• research for Theory of Knowledge oral exposé
• get 29 more CAS hours, fill out all paperwork
• get 60-ish more hours of physical activity, 45-ish of which must be moderate to vigorous
• prepare university audition pieces
• get an accompanist
• translate word-by-word foreign pieces
• send paperwork to Brandon U
• raise $2169 by January 12 to go to Rwanda
• finish writing song for trip to Rwanda
• cease being sick
• relax somewhere along the line
• I'm sure I've forgotten something ...

yeah ...

Maybe I'll actually be able to blog now. who knows. I've never been very good at this.

EDIT: oh yeah, I did forget something - Christmas.