A Memory

Memories and I have a curious relationship.  Nothwithstanding the ability to recall general information, my ability to recall the memory of events is limited.  I often say that anything before age 16 or so has dissipated from my mind.  There is partial truth in that.  I'm sure if I concentrated long enough, I would be able to recall life events from those years.  I can recall a few; however, most of my vivid memories (of those I can remember once remembering) are gone.  When a memory seizes me, I take the opportunity to recall as much about it as I can, for I know soon that memory will be degraded and eventually gone.  It is curious how music can aid in the recall of a memory or in some cases enhance (or also distort) the contents of the memory.

One such memory has moved to the front of my mind, and it is from my final summer at VanderCook College of Music.  It is about a female and the brief friendship we forged over a short period of time in Chicago.  We're still friends to this date; however, there in a month there is only so much you can learn about a person to define their friendship in terms of friends you have had for years--but friend, nevertheless.

Before I continue, I have linked YouTube recording of "Motorcycle Drive By".  Listen to it before proceeding.

The lyrics are not that significant, but do have some meaning to the memory.  The tone of this song is what reminds me of the that summer.  We had planned to lie upon the grass outside of VanderCook and look into the trees.  Because of time conflicts, that never came to pass. That was one part of the over all memory of my experience.

Unfortunately (I can speak only for myself), nothing other than friendship (which is significant in itself for reasons that I'll probably describe in a future post) was to come out of our meeting.  While this memory is on the front part of mind, I'm working to recall and memorize meetings and conversations as best I can, for from our brief time together, I learned a great deal about myself.  Socrates has taught me some valuable lessons in my life, one of which is to "Know thyself."  Through this person, I experienced rare moments of introspection and insight, for that I'll be eternally grateful.

This memory is two years old.  Perhaps it is a problem that my mind has conjured it from the depts of my memory.  However, I wonder my mind's purpose was to remind me of the experience of self-discovery rather than the experience of bittersweet events.  Regardless, I'm glad it suraced long enough for me to attend it and relive some of the discovery.

A brief glimpse

I did not anticipate spending part of my evening listening to some of my old compositions.  Truth be told, I don't know how my evenings are usually going to be spent until the evening is upon me.  Nevertheless, some of my post-teaching time was spent listening to what I've uploaded to this site on the Works page.  They are all things I wrote during the early and middle part of my undergraduate education.

Should you choose to browse there and take a listen, you will not find anything brilliant or earth shattering.  They are merely me following the directions of my ear using some guidelines that I had learned in my music theory courses.  They are all MIDI files, for I do not possess the piano chops to attempt to perform (or perform one part) any of what I wrote.  There are a few others I need to upload -- mostly saxophone works, including an impossible-to-play tenor saxophone solo entitled The Music of a Fatality.

The curious thing about re-listening to these pieces (as I have done several times since their creation) is that they invoke either the same of similar images in my head as they did upon their composition.  Perhaps it's the same idea as a writer of text being able to leave their work for a long period of time and return to it to remember details about their characters and setting.  All pieces of music have something to say.  The challenge is know how to translate what needs to be said into music.  That ability is something beyond me.  Thus, like many other folk, I rely on other composers to hopefully write something that can serve as a representation of what needs to be said.

I encourage you to take a listen to David Maslanka's Symphony No. 2 for Band / Wind Ensemble.  For years (before I was exposed to the first and second movement), I claimed the third movement would provide a glimpse inside my head.  The first movement also contains material that may help you better understand me.  My connection to the second movement (despite the use of saxophone at the beginning) is the weakest.

You'll find the material that connects me to Maslanka's work within the harmonic structure and various other elements.  For example, the high tessitura of the melody in the first movement (and the feeling of an impending fall) speaks volumes of my mind.  What it says, I cannot tell you (I know--that makes no sense).  But whatever it seems to say, my mind says its right.  Likewise for the story of the third movement.  Maslanka describes it with this sentence.

The underlying impulse of this movement is an exuberant, insistent outpouring of energy, demanding a high level of playing precision and physical endurance from the performers.

I agree with that but perhaps not in the way that Maslanka does.  I see it as a struggle, and on one end is life and the other death.  If you want a clearer explanation, ask me.  If I deem it necessary, you'll receive the explanation (see yesterday's post).  Take a listen to Maslanka's second symphony.  Perhaps you'll find something within it for yourself.

On nothing

Nothingness is a curious feeling.  You can easily argue for or against whether or not feeling nothing is feeling something that is nothing (mind you, I'm not writing about feeling numb).  It is a sensation I experience more and more as recent time has passed.

I'm unsure whether or not this is a blessing or a curse.  Being able to be faced with a situation and feel nothing can be advantageous.  It may allow for clearer thinking when a decision must be made.  It may allow you to pass through some kind of danger unharmed.  Beyond those to ideas, I can think of no other advantages.  

Disadvantages seem obvious.  You aren't feeling.  There is no high, no low, no happiness, no saddness; there is nothing.  You could argue such a feeling can be described as "flat."  I'm unsure if flat is what this is.  Perhaps it is, but I can't recognize it well enough to be confident in a description of "flat."

When analyzing this not feeling, the question arises of how is it possible to not feel?  I don't think it is  Using me as an example, I know do smile, laugh, seem happy, etc., but if I dive into introspection the quesiton becomes am I actually [insert emotion]?  Doubt will always appear, especially if you cannot remember any events of true elation or the like.  Perhaps Descartes would relish in this line of self examination.  Though I won't use a circular argument to come to a conclusion.

Why even write this?  A friend of mine had a moment of emotion today.  I could feel no empathy.  I knew I could feel it, because I think I have before.  Now one ought not empathize with everything they observe, but the problem comes when one tries to empathize, but cannot, despite having the experience that would allow them to do so.