I, Songwriter

I thought I wanted to be a songwriter until I realized what went into writing a good, popular song.

As a child, I grew up in a religious (and sheltered) home, so I patterned some of my first songs after hymns, which could have up to seven verses. Not until I was older did I realize most songs have only two verses, because that’s all that can fit into a song most people will listen to.

As I wrote more, I became more creative with beats and instrumentation, but my songs were still overtly religious. The famous saying goes, “Write what you know,” and that really was all I knew. But my musical tastes began to change, and I listened to more mainstream music. My eyes opened to a vast world waiting to be explored. I had had no idea just how big and diverse the world was until I entered college.

A lot of songs you hear these days revolve around love, breakups, sex, and going to clubs, among other experiences, many of which I have never encountered. I have learned much just by listening to songs many deem shallow or cheesy. Songwriters will say they write from their experiences, and people relate to them. I desire to relate, not because I want to be just another crowd-follower, but because I want to understand the people around me. I want to understand what public school was like, how young people learned about the world around them, how they experienced pop culture.

I cannot write mainstream music because I do not have mainstream life experience – whatever that is. I have been in love before, but I have never had a boyfriend, or gone to a club. Not that these are the only things I need to do to “fit in,” but I still feel very naive about the world. I yearn to grasp the way people interact with each other, what they do on weekends, how they have fun, what gives them meaning. Every person is different, but some life experiences are more common than others.

My lack of common experience limits my ability to write catchy songs. I am not denying that I have something of value to offer the world, I just haven’t figured out what that is and how to do it yet.

The Irish Harp

Summer 2012

It was my dream to play a harp in Ireland. I had spent years learning how to play the Irish harp, but only in America. Now that I was in Ireland, I thought it would be fun to play a “real” Irish harp. To my surprise, it was more difficult to find a harp to play than I thought it would be. I explored the streets of Dublin, but I never found the harp store. I visited a music store in Limerick, but all they had were ornamental harps, having no more than 4-10 strings. I became discouraged, but I did not give up hope. I knew I would have one more chance to find a harp during the evening of music at Newport.

When we arrived at the school house which held the event, I stepped inside and eagerly scanned the room. I saw a multitude of children playing violins, accordions, whistles, and drums. Then it caught my eye. Standing off-center in the midst of the children’s ensemble was the instrument I had been looking for: the Irish harp. My body shook, partly from the chilly air and partly out of excitement. I desperately hoped for an opportunity to play before the night ended, but I was nervous too. What would everyone think of me, an American, playing Irish music on an Irish instrument? I hoped that I would do it justice.

When my name was called and I was asked if I wanted to play the harp, I nodded eagerly. Rising from my seat, I stepped toward the front of the room, where the harper from the ensemble set the instrument next to an empty chair. I sat down to get familiar with the harp while Denis Carey introduced the piece I was about to play, which was an original composition of his. I am glad he did the talking; I couldn’t have spoken if I wanted to, my voice being scratchy from my cold. While he spoke, I ran my fingers over the strings, feeling the sound. The tuning was slightly different from what I was used to, so I decided it would be easier to transpose the piece from its original key to the harp’s current tuning so I wouldn’t have to change it. The harp itself stood probably less than 4 1/2 feet tall –– shorter than my harp back home. It rested just beneath my right shoulder as I stretched my arms over the soundboard, ready to play. In a matter of seconds, the introduction was over; it was time to play.

I began to play the first chords of a sad, sweet farewell tune, and the magic melody resonated off the soundboard, reminding me of my harp back home. My fingers glided over the unfamiliar strings –– rougher than nylon, but smoother than gut –– I’m not sure what they were made of, but I enjoyed their timbre. In those few moments, my nervousness, the cold, and the people listening all disappeared as I became absorbed in playing. In those moments, nothing existed but the music and me. I played a few wrong notes, which I hoped I covered up smoothly enough, but it almost didn’t matter. The harp was playing itself, and I was along for an enchanting ride.

As the notes of the final chord drifted away into the air, the room erupted with applause. I stood, smiling, and began to walk back to my seat. I received several compliments on my playing from people on the way, but there was no greater compliment than the praise from the composer himself, Denis Carey. I hoped he hadn’t noticed the wrong notes I had struck, and he didn’t appear to. His smile was almost as wide as mine as he told me how much he enjoyed my playing.

I sank back into my seat, filled with a joy deeper than words. My dream had come true.

Indecisiveness

Well, it’s official. I am no longer an undecided major. I have declared Multimedia Production as my major.

When I announced the news to my roommates (and after they congratulated me), one of them asked, “Do you feel like this is finally where you’re meant to be?”

“No,” I said. We all laughed.

The truth is, I still don’t know what I want to do, and that’s why I chose a major that’s broad and encompasses different branches of media (video, photography, web design). I would love to go into filmmaking, but I can’t decide what part of it I would want to do. I love working the cameras, but I also like deciding what shots to call. I love editing. I like special effects and am fascinated with green screens. At the same time I’d almost rather be in front of the camera. When I watch movies, I love observing the actors and wondering what the rehearsals were like and the steps they took to develop their characters.

Speaking of actors, I love live theater. Especially musical theater. What I would give to be able to act and sing like the people I see on Broadway as well as other stages. And that leads me to music. I want to learn how to play the cello. I think it’d be cool to learn the drums. I want to become a better pianist. I enjoy playing the harp for people and get excited when I schedule gigs.

There are so many other things that I want to do. I won’t take the time to list them all, but hopefully that gives you an idea of why I can be so indecisive. There are just so many things I want to do. The nice thing about college is that I can take various classes and try new things. But eventually I have to focus on one path, because taking a bunch of random classes won’t get me a bachelor’s degree.

I’m writing this not to complain, but to try to sort out my thoughts as well as express frustrations that go through my head on a daily basis. Many of the things I want to try out are very possible. I can take voice lessons, I can take film classes, I can make my own videos for YouTube if I wanted to.

I can see people who are so passionate about what they’re doing that they will give anything and everything to be able to accomplish their ambitions. What frustrates me is that I can’t find a passion for much of anything. There are loads of possibilities; there are many things I enjoy, but I haven’t yet found something that I’m willing to fight for. Maybe I would find it if I just committed to something. Maybe I’ll find it in my new major. Right now I just committed to it because it seemed to be the logical thing to do.

Did You Feel That?

Performances light a flame in my soul that I don’t know how to explain in words. You just have to go through the experience to understand what I mean. I haven’t been able to understand why I come close to tears when watching or listening to a performance (musical or theatrical), and it frustrates me when I don’t get the sense that others are feeling what I’m feeling. The adrenaline rush in the midst of a chase, the heartbreak of death, the agony of loneliness, the warmth of a caress.

When I experience a performance, I feel a deep emotional connection to it. But I don’t want to just feel connected to it, I want to be part of it. To help others feel how I feel. It’s not enough for me to turn to the person next to me, grab their shoulders, and exclaim, “Did you feel that? Did it break your heart like it did mine? Didn’t you want to die with them, get married with them, run with them, breathe with them?” Because I can’t make a person feel something. They have to do that on their own. The best I can do is convey that feeling to them.

When I was younger, I had the privilege of singing in a children’s choir that performed in Philadelphia. We once performed a cantata entitled “The Long Bright,” along with a full orchestra and some amazing adult soloists. Provided the link works, I’ll let this website explain the story:
The Long Bright | Schola Cantorum on Hudson

Of course, reading about it and listening to recordings is not nearly the same as being there in the moment. I tend to think I got more out of it as a performer than the audience members did, because I was part of the family that understood the hard work that made that performance possible. But it’s not just about the family. I remember approaching the end of the piece and thinking, “This is it. It’s nearing the end. I’m not going to be able to experience this again.” I savored those last moments, and as the final melodies floated away I could see Anni in my mind, flying to heaven on those last notes. I hope the listeners saw the same thing, but I also think it was a secret that the performers and the writers shared, and could only be told in part to the audience.

This video pretty much sums up my thoughts on communicating through performing for others:

My Thoughts Today: Singing

I was having a few thoughts. And when I have a few thoughts, I like to write them down to try to sort them out. And the sort of thoughts I was having today involve what things I enjoy. I was contemplating my desire to sing. I want to sing because I want to sing for people on a stage. I want to sing for people on a stage because I have been moved so deeply by people who sing on a stage, and I want to move people in the same way.

The next idea in my thought process is that I don’t know if I really like to sing. I don’t like to practice at all. Perhaps if I were alone more often I would enjoy singing by myself more. But I would just as happily play the harp or read a book or edit a video instead. I must admit, though, that when I hear music I feel the need to hum along, and I can’t resist making up a harmony. I love doing that, even if people around me don’t love me doing that. But it’s fun.

My next thought is that when I first started playing the harp I didn’t enjoy it very much either. I hated practicing that as well, and I couldn’t see much of a future in it. I was, however, a very young child at the time, and could not perceive where my playing would take me. I am thinking that perhaps I am still a young child in my singing journey, because while I do not enjoy practicing the exercises, something useful may come of it later, even if I can’t imagine what.

Things I Love: Theater

Bleached overalls, Superman shirt, suspenders. Yup – the earliest memories I have of a theater performance would have to be my church-at-the-time’s production of Godspell. It was being put on by the youth choir there, which my big brothers sang in, so my mom and I would watch the rehearsals. In fact, I think I remember the rehearsals more than I remember the actual performances. The feather boa worn by the girl who sang “Turn Back O Man,” the angry face my one brother made when he had to freeze during “We Beseech Thee,” the way Jesus’ head hung upside down as he was being carried away after the crucifixion.

Through the years I’ve discovered that when I watch people on stage, I’m moved in a way that words can’t quite describe. It’s not just the “aww” moment when a couple kisses or the blood boiling when the main character gets beaten. I sense a unity between the actors, a bond formed only through countless hours of rehearsing, and I feel like I want to share that bond. I don’t just want to watch the magic, I want to make the magic.

Many people (and I’m about to make some huge generalizations here) will only think about the performance for the couple hours they are there. They’re not thinking about the show two weeks before when the lead actress sprains her ankle or when one of the light fixtures breaks. They can’t feel the sweat caused by having run that one dance number eight times. They don’t know the stories told backstage or the inside jokes created when someone messed up his line. They’re not stressing out three days before over a ripped costume or a missing prop. They simply attend the performance. Which is great, because that’s what an audience is supposed to do. They’re not supposed to know what goes on behind the scenes. But I don’t want to be just an audience member. I want to be onstage. Not for the fame, but for the family. There’s just one little problem.

I don’t act. Or sing.

Sure, I’ve been in a couple productions in school or in the community, but I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. Okay, so I’ve taken one acting class. But when I’m on the stage I feel like I’m missing something. And I can’t figure out what.

I have great admiration for those who can take words on a page and bring them to life. That’s what I want to learn to do. Yeah, I’m not great at it now, but I’m going to change that. I’m taking voice lessons to make my voice stronger. And when I can find where to take acting classes/lessons, I’m going to do that too (if anyone has any recommendations where to go, feel free to tell me!). Will I make a career out of it? Highly unlikely. Will I be an amazing actress? Also unlikely. What I am going to be is the best actress and singer I can be, and learn all I can in the process.