Salaam(i)

January 13, 2015 by Zubin Hill | Comments Off on Salaam(i)

Things began to heat up (figuratively, as the weather took a distinct turn for the extremely chill) once I got to D.C. Why, there were meetings, monuments, and Pho Eurasian.

As the extern, I sat in on two meetings and then did work during the final meeting of the trip. I’ve discovered that meetings are highly tiring encounters. You have to sit, prim and proper and largely silent. < = Things I almost never do. I am a habitual chair-sloucher/slumper/folded-legger, and a talking fidgeter extraordinaire. In any regard, I performed quite admirably. I managed to devote my attention to the goings on and produce coherent and vaguely intelligent responses when called upon.

I was not, thankfully, the stumbling mutterer from class who always gives the wrong answer when called upon. I should also note that I got to D.C. courtesty of my extern sponsor (she paid for the Amtrak).

The table spread (turnovers eaten)

I ate some delighful spinach and cheese turnovers at Just World Books author, Laila El-Haddad’s house. And admired her seriously cute baby. I mourned for JWB’s new D.C. representative, bestowed of the name Steven Fake.

I happily wolfed down vermicelli at PhoEurasian – because pho and I are close friends.

I had the opportunity to wander D.C. in search of monuments on Saturday. The air was crisply freezing and I briefly feared that the homeless man bundled in a mountain of blankets and trash bags had expired. (I even wondered what to do if he had – he hadn’t). I stumbled down 22nd Street, asking many passersby, “which way to the Lincoln Memorial?”

Is that…a vision from Egypt or that Tom Cruise Movie Oblivion?

What I saw first was not the Lincoln Memorial but, rather, a mirage of an obelisk.

It was as though I’d inadvertantly entered a hallucination from Hildalgo or something. Much like a mirage, the Washington Memorial was in the annoying habit of disappearing behind buildings. Each time I wondered if, in my cold-induced madness, I had imagined it.

Not cute.

Naturally I hadn’t and there it would appear again. Somehow, I managed to reach it and take this less than glamorous photo:

I also reached the Lincoln Memorial but, by that time, my camera had died and refused to participate in any photo ops.

So that was D.C.

Of Monticello and Offices

January 7, 2015 by Zubin Hill | Comments Off on Of Monticello and Offices

Aren’t you all surprised: your trusty blogger decided to come back early. While the chances of human persons (aka non-droids) reading my next fews posts are likely slim, I shall persevere!

Now, I have chosen to address you once more because I’ve had a quite lovely externship opportunity. (Externship = internship for us ordinary folk). I’d arranged it a while back through the Career and Professional Development Office and their Extern program. It pairs Bi-College students with either Bi-College alums or their parents; sophomores on up can apply. My externship is with Just World Books, a small, internationally-focused publishing business. I’m really hoping it will boost my chances of getting an ace internship/job over the summer.

It has been a real blessing for me. I went from doing this at home (in the company of sisters, but still):

To doing this:

I’m a picture of industriousness. What’s nice is that my fellow workers are kindly. I live in-house with the CEO and will be going on a business trip to Washington, D.C. tomorrow. Things have been pretty tame at Casa-Just World. I researched ebook converters, trolled graphic novel reviewers, and did sundry other tasks.

And, shocker of shockers, I actually seemed to have finished last semester well. Who would’ve guessed? I was pretty sure I’d wallow in a puddle of tears upon seeing my final grades.

However, I just received the syllabus for my Power and Resistance course and BOY does it look like I will be a puddle of tears in two weeks.

The Epic Theory of #fail

December 12, 2014 by Zubin Hill | Comments Off on The Epic Theory of #fail

“And behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

Luke 13:30 (ESV)

I’d have to say that’s essentially my feeling about this week: the title and the quote.

The truth is, I was one of the “last” into Bryn Mawr–I was off the wait list and that’s always given me a sense of being the underdog. Against what felt like great odds, I managed to do really well my first year. This whole semester was the opposite of my first year. What’s strange is that I cannot (mostly) put my finger on one particular moment that exemplifies my Sophomore Slump. Nonetheless, I know I’ve been experiencing it quite fully. I guess I now have a contender for worst moment, at least.

Thursday was a busy night. I had my final French TA session and my morning classes, a Chamber rehearsal, the Hogwarts dinner, and then a Chamber performance. As I’ve mentioned, I was part of a solo “trio.” I bombed as badly as one can when holding the music in her hand and not squeeking like a pubescent boy. Which is to say, pretty badly. My trio members did a really admirable job covering for me but I know we were the worst “act” (so to speak) of the performance

Wands for sale! Olivander’s anyone?

thanks to me.

And I can’t really say what went wrong. I knew the 2nd solo that I ended up doing poorly on. Maybe it was that I wasn’t ready for my very short cue, that I wasn’t reading the music as closely as I should have been, that I’m underconfident in my operatic singing/singing in general, that I never wanted a solo and felt a bit sick from stuffing all the “Hogwarts” food down my throat, that we’d only practiced our parts within the larger piece a couple times. Who knows? I’m AWESOME at blame-shifting but I don’t know that it matters.

I think the experience is just going to go on the list of things I’d like to forget.

On the list of things to remember is the Hogwarts dinner.

Thomas Great Hall is the perfect venue and it was really nice how everyone (the Deans, and Dining Services) got all dressed up. I saw my manager, Steven, dressed as Professor Quirrel and it was amusing. The Extreme Keys sang, the food was delicious, and a wizard (me) condescended to sit with Muggles/Squibs (my graduated-friend who works at BMC).

I do wish I could have enjoyed it more; it just seemed I’d barely sat before the dinner was over.

Hogwarts Great HalBut if this is my final blog post of the semester then I think I should end on something profound.

But if this is my final blog post of the semester then I think I should end on something profound.

So how’s this for size?

I think what I’ve been feeling this semester is tied to feelings I’ve been having for a long time. Ever since I turned 12, I’ve been trying to escape. It didn’t much matter what it was: home-school, my family, whatever. The thing was, it wasn’t like I wanted to be ignorant or become an orphan. I think I’d (have) just absorbed more of that movie-dream garbage than I’d like to admit. I think I’m finally coming to grips with the idea of staying and not just holding on to the end but trying to grow from everything and know when I’m just being whiny.

My sister asked me when she visited if I thought she was better at starting thing or finishing them. Now I’ve started to ask myself that, and the answer is starting. I’m always excited to dive in but wretched and miserable as soon as I do.

It’s a skill. Going where you need and want to be and seeing things for what they are–not what you wish them to be. That’s what I’ve learned (premature New Years Statements!!) So that’s what I’ll try to look at this semester as: a lesson and an exercise in staying.

That’s it and good night, everyone. BON VACANCES!!

(But you know…)

Hell Requests, Sister Visits, and Yuletide

December 5, 2014 by Zubin Hill | Comments Off on Hell Requests, Sister Visits, and Yuletide

Christmas is in the air…

Christa pretending to be a mannequin.

My Bryn Mawr Thanksgivings tend to be rather dull events. It always seems a rather strange–and short–break. There’s no one here and not much to do.

This break was a bit different. My elder sister, who goes to school at Calvin College in Michigan, came to visit and invited one of her friends who goes to Penn State along for the ride. We spent Thanksgiving with an elder friend of mine and navigated the public transit system (the High Speed Line, cuz we’re cheap) to get into Philly. It was quite wonderful having her around. I’ve really felt and come to grips with the “sophomore slump” this year. My best friends (and Heller) were seniors and graduated last year. I’d just come to view Bryn Mawr with jaded eyes. Christa really brightened things for me. To her, everything was beautiful and novel. She even claimed she wanted to stay just for the juice machines. I think I understand better, too, the idea of living vicariously through someone.

Before City Hall!

Sometimes it takes an outsider to give the insider a refreshed view of her situation.

Another cool thing is this: the Yuletide Hogwarts Feast!

I was so frighened I would miss it (they apparently only happen once every 4 years) as I have a Chamber Singers concert at the same time.

And I’m one of a solo trio so…

BUT I found just the perfect arrangement of Blue buses and mealtimes! I’ll be sippin’ Pumpkin Juice with the best of them!

Though I had wanted to be Ravenclaw, at the time slot I needed there were only:

If being a Hufflepuff = living by the kitchens, then I’ll take it!

Hufflepuff.

I really don’t think I’m a super happy person and all that but, hey, maybe the yellows are where the Sorting Hat wants me to be.

*Shrugs*

Hell Week:

Now, I’d thought I was destined to be Hell-barren (a term I made up)–namely that I would have no Hellees. (All this has to do with Hell Week, a way to welcome first year students). However, all that changed on Tuesday.

I’d just gotten back from getting my Yuletide ticket and encountered my suitemate on the way back to the room. She stopped me and asked if I’d been to the room already.

Now it’s probably a measure of my greed, but the first thing I thought was that she’d gotten me a Yuletide ticket (you could get one for an absentee friend). I prepared myself to say I already had one only to be dumbfounded when she said, “[Our other suitemate] had asked us to be her Hellers.”

So, when I got back to the room I saw this:

And I checked my answer: Yes.

Get ready for Hell Week, little one!

November 23, 2014
by Zubin Hill
Comments Off on On Another Note

On Another Note

Really just so I can feel proper industrious–

BaCaso had their culture show on Saturday AND got Erdman to have a African/Caribbean dinner on Friday.

My plate at the African/Caribbean dinner

The jerk chicken was quite nicely spiced and the plantains were PERFECT! I really did wish for some homemade cooking, after that dinner. Anyway, I got to perform at BaCaso’s Culture/Fashion show and it was pretty nice. I sang Gotye’s Save Me and the crowd was very kind. I think I need to learn to enjoy performing more.

Still, it was a good coda to last week. I do like performing 🙂

A Tale of Two Concerts

November 16, 2014 by Zubin Hill | Comments Off on A Tale of Two Concerts

There is a difference between spectating and participating.

This seems obvious, but it is something that really came home for me this week for t’was Concert Week. I had a Chamber Singers practice every day this week except Wednesday. All in preparation for our concert with Marcel Khalife. And this is the lesson I learned.

But the Khalife concert wasn’t the only concert I attended. I also went to the Bryn Mawr Concert Series’ MisterWives and Little Daylights concert.

The Little Daylights performing during their opening set.

They were contrasting experiences. The first was teeming with people and all very nerve-wracking. The second was reasonably well attended (~110 people) but felt sparse because the space could hold twice that number. All through the MisterWives concert, I longed for a seat, knowledge of the words, or more excitement. I didn’t quite know what to do and felt like a bit of an imposter. Like I was doing something just because others do it (which, to be fair, was kinda true. I’ve never really been to a concert and wanted to try it out). I wanted to go crazy and get into the music but never felt I had the chance. I peered over heads and tried to find the best vantage point but all were lackluster.

Did I need to see the performers? Even when they were hopping excitedly, I didn’t feel like following them. Truly, the best part of the concert was when the lead singer of MisterWives got her band members to dance poorly for us. Then, at least, I got to cheer and have a laugh.

Note: Even saying all this, I want to give a massive shoutout to the members of the Bryn Mawr Concert Series group; they did a phenomonal job promoting and hosting the entire concert. (Brief info on them: they arrange for different classical and contemporary arts acts to come to campus and perform for free).

The concert made me want to re-examine my dreams of being a singer. How can I want to perform when I don’t enjoy concerts? When looking and listening to the lead singer made me think of the burny ears I get when I perform and how she must have felt?

The Khalife concert was worlds away from the other–in more ways than one. It was at Haverford, a Chamber Singers event (meaning I had a starring role in the night), and the music I was singing was in Arabic.

And it was amazing.

Our piece, Chants of the East (written by Mr. Khalife), went by extremely fast. Every other measure we were sitting down. No, standing up. Or hold on, waiting for the boys choir to sing their part? I started to conduct to myself so I could feel internally the same beat that Tom, our conductor, motions and bounces along. It was fun to stacatto out each word. Each word that I had struggled with so during rehearsals. Sometimes I kinda missed the cue or belatedly followed my fellows (I’m still learning to sight-read properly, after all). But sometimes I led them in parts where the vocal section has no breaks. I trilled out the high notes and played with the harmonies on the lower ones.

And in the ending chord I wished I was a first soprano so I could just attempt to sing that high note; so I could share in the glory of the ending and not just hover in the middle.

Sure. My ears felt hot as an oven. And yeah, I stood up from the bow a little too soon and thought something horrendously embarrassing was due to happen any moment. (Cue: music folder falling from hands. Cue: Zubin fainting because her knees locked. Cue: Zubin laughing for no apparent reason in the midst of silence).

But it was OK. It was splendiferous anyway. I beamed like an idiot after it was over and the cutest thing was Marcel Khalife giving Tom a hug and walking off the stage with him, arm in arm.

We’d done good.

I know now that no, I can not like most concerts and still perform. Performing is the opposite of spectating and I revel in it. I need to be in the action, bouncing and reeling, making noise and reacting.

That’s just who I am.

Info: http://www.philly.com/philly/columnists/david_patrick_stearns/20141113_Music_transcends_the_East-West_divide.html

Mawrter Musing

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