How do you smoke through this exam?

I've got to give it to music exams: you can't breeze through it with dumb luck. Or through the systematic spot-the-question approach. Or smoking through it, as any mass comm graduate would tell you with a self-satisfied smirk, is the best method there is. I still giggle a bit when I think of how I aced my chinese A's and surprised everyone, including myself.

There's no way you can fool the music examiner into thinking that you have been practising religiously when you haven't. You can't lie with music. Or at least I can't. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that your musical instrument won't be an accomplice to that lie. It'll show you up one way or another--in my case, bow shake is a nice possibility, and so is the slanted bowing that produces my signature screechy playing style.

But I must say the opposite ain't true all the time: even if you have put in the requisite time and effort for the exam, stage fright is still something you've got to reckon with. I was so nervous last year that the (wrong) response that came out from my mouth to a question for the aural component was exactly the opposite of what I was thinking.

So here goes the same refrain that I suspect will repeat itself year after year: I wish I had practised more. I've been lazy and unfocused. There're still so many kinks in my playing that I haven't straightened out and the exam is less than 2 weeks away. Last week someone says its commendable that my passion for music has lasted thus far. I was having a bad day and was tempted to skip the violin lesson later in the evening; I mumbled that it's more of a habit and a sense of duty than anything else now. I think I was giving excuses. Good thing about music exam is that it forces me to invest in my violin playing, and I find that I actually care about whether I'm going to flunk the exam, whether I'm improving, and whether and how I can correct my horrible all-over-the-place bowing in the near future.

But it does sounds a bit like empty rhetoric to my own ears because I was once again distracted, from my practice to blog about how I should be practising more! OK, OK, back to playing now.

Can the new ever be as good as the old?

Recently, I bought a new violin. It's also made in that "factory-of-the-world" country, alas. A friend's husband who's much more knowledgable about music was like "No no! Not a China violin!" But with budget constraints, I shall defer that European violin for later in my musical career!


The old one was too big for me. The new violin is niftier as it's smaller, 7/8 of the usual full-sized violin. Compared to my first violin, the sound is definitely more crisp and robust. Listening to the difference between the 2 is like mono vs stereo sound. However, that means the the mistakes and the screeches are sharper too. And I didn't count on the fingerboard being so much narrower. My blundering fingers now feel even more awkward as they scramble clumsily across the 4 strings, sometimes pressing on more than 1 accidentally.


Now and then, I still take out my old violin and give it a play. The feeling I get as I set it upon my shoulder can only be described as a very comforting familiarity that makes me want to go "ahhhh...this is more like it!" My fingers feel more confident and at home on that generous fingerboard and its just a very shiok feeling drawing the bow over those well-worn strings that I've bowed over and over for 3 years. I started to wonder whether I had ever really needed to change it, and whether I now have an expensive mistake on my hands. *shudder


The change in violin coincided with my change of job, so I can't help but notice my struggle with both. It's a humbling experience to know nothing and having to keep asking around for help and depending on others. I feel painfully ignorant and stupid sometimes, struggling to keep up. It's such a difference from my previous job, when I know what to do, how to do it and where to get the resources. I crave for that kind of security and confidence. I wish I could feel in control again.


But as with the violin, the old job may be more comfortable but not necessarily the best fit for me. And fond as I am of the old violin, I probably should stop taking it out for awhile because it'll just make me feel more acutely how unfamiliar the new one is and make it harder for me to get used to it. And it'll be the new violin that'll accompany me to the dreaded music exam. Onward and upward for my work and music aspirations!

The food hurdle

In the past, when people ask me what I do for a living, I always have to attach a long explanation to my reply of "research assistant" because I don't research--I meddle in editorial work. At last I've resolved that incongruity by joining a publishing company. Hello, I'm an editor.

The process of moving on to a new workplace has been a long one, somewhat less terrifying, but rather harder than I anticipated. But I can hardly complain because I had plenty of time to mentally prepare myself and say bye-byes. After the numerous farewell lunches and messages and thank-you cards and presents, I felt slightly weary, emotionally.

For people who change jobs on a regular basis, I must seem like a bleeding heart. Well I don't quite understand why it has to be so hard for me too, except that the research centre is just too comfortable, and therefore difficult to leave. The people are exceptionally helpful (and smart), the work was stable, culture was free 'n' easy aussie-style, and food was plentiful. There was just this little problem of my "career" and "professional growth" stagnating.

The new place needs a bit of getting used to. New colleagues are typically overworked Singaporeans--need time to open up. I needed to be reminded of this obvious fact after 3 years of general affability. I have to get used to the unsmiling part too.

I was quite excited about the job scope though: it was exactly what I wanted to learn, although I realise that my work would actually be quite mechanical, seeing a book through all stages of production. I can imagine anyone in India doing the job equally well (i.e., not outsource-proof, but which job is, anyway?)

I was complaining to friends about the lack of culinary choices due to our remote location: most people bring their own food, or they order in, but there're only 2 (unhealthy) choices everyday! After 2 days of sandwiches, I decided to cook some instant noodles and was I grateful for eating something hot at long last, even if it was just a handful of precooked noodles and dried peas swimming in watery, MSG-flavoured soup. I was feeling very sorry for myself, after being so spoilt for choice, with the numerous canteens dotted around the campus.

The next day, I ordered in and it was mixed rice: lots of white rice with a small piece of omelette, some tofu, vegetable, and a thin slice of very tough meat. As I told Hong, it felt like I was eating lao fan (prison rice). Just earlier in the morning, my former colleague was still raving to me about the fantastic food they had at the post-conference appreciation dinner. Oh, the indignity!

I get the feeling that once I get past this hang-up about food, things should start to look up. In the meantime, I'm going to feast this weekend.

Reminiscences

I'm supposed to be churning out a report by next Monday about the journal that I've been managing but it's not any easy report and I don't feel like starting.

Anyway, just came back from a night out with the gals. So fast, but we've known each other for more than 10 years. Over coffee, we were reminiscing about our school days happily, now that we can look back on the horrors and tedium of those days from a safe distance: how teachers used to terrorise us, how we dreaded art and music lessons, snooty classmates, our grades and (non)aspirations, and fights that we had with each other.

It's curious how we became good friends: I think some of the bonding came from simply being close to each other during assembly, or chemistry class etc since they went by alphabetical order in those days and 4 out of 5 of us have a T surname .

It feels nice, and safe to have a bunch of friends who have a shared history. I have periods in my life whereby my memory is quite patchy, sometimes because I didn't want to remember. There're so many things that I forgot, and to hear about them again from friends now and to be jolted and remember all over again, I feel thankful. I feel like my memories would be safe with them. Nothing beats old friends. :)

Return of the baking virtuoso

I've gone back to baking! After halting for about 10 months (due to discouraging results), I decided to bake again after colleagues suggested I do it again before I quit the place. These people must be some sort of masochists but since they asked for it, I, of course, obliged!

I decided to make an orange cake, after my mother found this real simple receipe in the Chinese newspapers. She tried it and it smelled good! So I wanted to have a go at it too, for another colleague's farewell lunch. The cake is made with the all-natural goodness of real orange juice and orange peel. Yummy!

I know it doesn't look very good, with that jagged little hole there (Someone said it looks like a donut), but it tasted OK, really! I kinda like the orangey tang, and my colleagues all said it was quite good. That's the thing with my cakes--they're edible, just that they don't look fantastic, especially since I don't like the idea of smothering them in whipped cream. I shall try lemon next. :)