Time for my monthly update. Haha.... Hopefully I'll update a little more often than that for a while. Over the next couple of days, I'm going to upload some of my pictures. Some people have a photo blog that they update every day with a new photo, but 1) I'm not that prolific a photographer (unless I did a daily high school sports picture) and 2) I don't think I'd be able to update every day.
Anyway, on to today's photo.
Fort Dale played in the area tournament at Huntingdon a week or so ago, and the night before had been rather chilly. While I was driving around campus, looking for the gym, I saw this fountain. Even though I was running a little late, I just had to stop and take a picture.
So after several months of inactivity, here I am again. Unfortunately, this first post of the new year will not a happy one. Like a post back in August, this one is going to be about someone who affected my life.
I got a phone call from Greg Phillips on Sunday afternoon about Professor Warden. Greg told me that they were going to take him off life support. That shocked me a little because I didn't even know that he had been ill. He passed away later Sunday night.
Turns out he had fallen in the shower a few weeks ago and broke his hip. He had to have surgery, but there were complications. He was a hemophiliac (I had no idea), and apparently things went downhill from there.
In addition to being just a teacher of mine, he was also my advisor for the years I was in the school of journalism. Any time I needed some advice, he was there. Classes, assignments, whatever. Occasionally, I'd get a glimpse into Prof the person - whether it was after class, sitting around eating pizza and putting the Trop together, managing our team for the Trop-Trojanvision softball game, or the end-of-the-year excursion.
Now that I think about it, there was so much more to him than I knew. He had a ton of real-world experience that he drew on to teach his classes, but I never really took the time to get the backstory. Speaking of his classes, they were tough. But they weren't tough because he wanted you to fail — they were tough because he wanted you to be good. Somehow, I always managed to pull an A out.
I knew him as my advisor, teacher and person, but I wish I had known him better. Thanks, Prof, for all you did. We'll miss you.
This is going to be somewhat of an eclectic post, so be prepared.
Let me start off by giving a few thoughts about the past weekend. I got the news about 11 o'clock Friday night that my great-grandmother died. She hasn't been doing too well for the last year or so, but particularly in the last couple of weeks. The first reaction of people when I told them was, "I'm so sorry," which is completely understandable.
I'm sad that she's gone, but she was 101 years old. That's a long time, and she had a good life. You always hear about funerals being a celebration of someone's life, but I don't think I'd ever seen it until this one. Out of two hours standing in the family line at the funeral home, I only saw one person not taking it well. People were telling stories, sharing memories and just being the fact that she'd been there all our lives. It was truly like she had just gone home.
On a happier note, it's October. Which means that I have to share this.
I realize that the volume is a little low, but turn it up — it's worth it. This is a song by Eric Whitacre called October. I've actually played this piece before, and it's one of my favorites of all time to listen to. He decided to write a piece about his favorite month of the year, and so October was born. (P.S. - make sure you listen for the French horns around 4:40. I love that melodic line.)
I've also started listening to some of Whitacre's choral music, and the man is amazing. The way he uses dissonances, suspensions and resolutions is absolutely brilliant. There's just such a purity about it. If you want to get all philosophical about it, you could say that it's incredibly optimistic. There's all these dissonant harmonies, like the problems we encounter in life, and yet everything works out beautifully in the end. But I digress...
If I had a favorite month, October would be near the top of the list. Today was crisp, with a high in the low 80s, not much humidity, and a crystal clear blue sky all day long. It was gorgeous. The leaves will begin turning soon. Football season is in full swing. It doesn't get much better than this.
And in a reference to college, it's October! *raises the roof* That means National Domestic Violence Awareness Month! I'm not sure why, but we always had to raise the roof for that. So I will continue the tradition.
Ok, so I've joined the herd. Jay tagged me, thus giving me the burden of posting six random things about me. So here it goes.
No. 1 — I hate candy corn. What? How can I be an American and hate candy corn? Don't ask why, but it's just nasty. If all the candy corn on Earth was suddenly removed forever, I would be fine.
No. 2 — I'm forgiving to a fault. If I can give you the benefit of the doubt, I will. Even if I shouldn't, I probably will. I can also usually see both sides of an argument. Because of this, I feel like an elf. In Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, there's a line that says, "Go not to the elves for council, for they will say both yes and no." That's me.
No. 3 — Rarely do I hear music without listening to it. (That'll make sense in a moment... trust me.) If something's really good, I can get lost in it and hear it for what it is. Because of the musical training I've had, I spend the rest of the time picking it apart. "That was a nice key change... I wonder what chord progression that was because it was pretty cool... etc." Sometimes, I'd just like to hear whatever I'm listening to.
No. 4 — I can't stand overhead, incandescent lighting. Lamps? Great. Overhead fluorescents? Fantastic. But I can't sit in a room, like a living room for example, with nothing but the overhead light on. It just drives me crazy for some reason. I guess I just prefer the softer, more diffuse, (dare I say) intimate light that lamps give. My apartment doesn't even have a light fixture on the ceiling in the living room, and I couldn't be happier.
No. 5 — Inspired by the Volcano Taco commercial on TV, I sweat profusely whenever I eat something even a little bit spicy. My dad is wired the same way. Some of my friends think it's kinda weird. Once, I made the mistake of asking the question "Mild or spicy?" at Popeye's with "Spicy." I went through about half a roll of paper towels, and it looked like I had been outside running a marathon. Seriously.
No. 6 — What? A high school randomness? Hmmm.... I can remember my locker combination from eighth grade. It was the easier combination ever: 21-23-21. I didn't pick it. They gave it to me. Go figure. I'm not entirely sure it was in eighth grade, or even what the number of locker was, but I sure do remember the combination.
And because I don't know anyone else that blogs, it stops here. I may have bad luck for the next 85 years of my life and have all my hair fall out, but oh well. I'm a gamblin' man.
I found out today that my high school English teacher died of cancer. I recall that Mrs. Sharpe was always fond of Tennyson, and this poem came to mind after I heard the news. I remember reading it in her class.
"Crossing the Bar"
Sunset and evening star And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark;
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.
Ok, so in response to demand from my adoring public (ha!), here's the first post in a little over two months. I was going to just post a picture of a bunny or cheese or something and be like "Happy now?", but that was before this video.
It's from the show Britain's Got Talent. Take a moment and watch it. And make sure you have the volume turned up.
Ok, time for me to make a few comments about this.
1) I love the look on everyone's face as he's starting. They look about like I did when he started. "He's going to sing what?"
2) Take note of the worried little old ladies at 0:51. The one on the left is shown wiping away a tear at 1:33. Nice touch.
3) I wish I could hear the entire performance. There's more to Nessun Dorma, but they slickly edited it for television. Take a look at 1:07-1:08 — there's the cut. As the strings ascend, you see him take a breath for the next phrase, then the camera cuts and his face is different as the main theme begins. The audience's reaction is another clue. They clap for him after he's gotten less than 10 words out of his mouth if you assume they didn't edit this clip.
Here comes my main point about this video: what was your reaction? I'll go ahead and tell you what mine was. I choked up like they just shot Old Yeller. Even before he reached the emotional peak of the piece, I had tears in my eyes. I can watch The Notebook and be ok, but show me a video of a pasty, middle-aged British cell phone salesman who desperately needs a good dentist singing Nessun Dorma, and all of a sudden I'm like Sally Field after the funeral in Steel Magnolias.
But why? Let me become cynical for a moment. Was it a good performance? Yes. Was it a great performance? Sure. Was it a legendary performance? No. This guy's not Pavarotti. As some critics have pointed out, if you just heard his version on the radio in the car or on your stereo at home, would you still be moved? Ehhhhh....
Thinking more about it, most of the emotional impact of this comes from the setup. Here's this guy who seems kinda down on his luck. He sells cell phones for a living, but he'd much rather be singing. He's not very easy on the eyes. He's going on a show where 99% of the people who audition are horrible. They even put his comment about not having a lot of self-confidence right before he started singing.
Then... he opens his mouth to sing and out comes this voice. You were scared at first, but the first note changes all that. Suddenly, you're rooting for the guy. It's unreal.
After at it from a different perspective, do you feel cheated or manipulated? I don't really. Music doesn't take place in a vacuum. It's one thing to put on a CD and hear a song. If you find a really good song or something hits you at just the right moment, you might even be moved a little. But hearing the story behind the song, what was going on in the songwriter or artist's life can put it in a new perspective and give it that much more impact.
Technically, was it a great performance? Eh, it was ok. But music is not notes on a page. It's emotion. Here's this guy, not terribly self-confident, up on stage in front of hundreds of people and three judges singing his heart out. Who cares if the next to last note was a little sharp? He was giving it all he had, and it showed. To fully appreciate what you just saw, you have to know the backstory there. That's what makes it so great.
Oh, and a note about the title of this post. "Vincero" is the final word of the aria, and it translates to "I shall win" in English.
