Heather S. Ingemar's Blog, page 26

Believe

I can’t remember now where, or when, I heard Your voice. That memory escapes me, fuzzy and murky like trees in a foggy forest. But I remember Your voice as clearly as if Your words were spoken to me a moment ago. They echoed in my head for days at a time when I questioned everything: my path, my talent, my being. I heard You, somehow, and it made me cry to realize how afraid I was to keep doing what I do. I was on the verge of throwing in the towel and I didn’t even know it. I had become so tired, so worn down.

But I heard You.

I don’t know, yet, how I will continue, nor what lies in store, but I heard You. And after three days of tears and worry, I realize that this is my calling. I live in an uncertain and sometimes frightening world, but perhaps that is why I am.

I started going to church again. I admit I don’t understand much beyond the very basic truths (I am a sub par student), but I hear an echo of You every time I sing, and that makes a perfect, delicate, beautiful sense.

To Play or Not To Play: Free or Profit?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about free music.

Free music is a concept that has been around for a while. The ideas of “throwing a show,” jamming, and the like are the ones that have kept the creative aspect of humanity alive and kicking since the beginning. Sharing music with friends and family fosters a sense of community, strengthens bonds, and keeps the art alive. Sharing your music freely can also boost creativity (via listener feedback), and keep an artist from having their work stay anonymous. Its also extremely fulfilling on an emotional level to play for people other than yourself, and to have those people appreciate your craft. There are lots of advantages to the ‘free’ model.

But there are also a few distinct issues with this idea. One, I have to make enough to cover my fuel, my mileage, and my time spent preparing (this is doubly true if the distance is far, or if the hire-er requests I learn special material that I have to purchase). I also have to charge for physical CD copies, as the materials cost money. Not to mention instrument maintenance: guitars need new strings. Sometimes when they’ve been played hard for an extended period of time, they need some repair work that only a tech (a music mechanic, if you will) can do. These things require money, which is not found when you give your craft away for free…

But the game is changing.

The traditional idea of an audience is vanishing — fewer and fewer people understand what it means to be part of an audience, let alone to be a good audience member. Live entertainment is falling by the wayside because the places that host it are feeling the pinch of the bad economy. Likewise, fans are feeling the pinch, and are less likely to spend cold, hard cash on something they don’t need. Also, in this digital age, everything is (basically) right at your fingertips — is there truly a demand for another singer-songwriter when there’s at least 80 of them currently featured on the front of iTunes’ Singer/Songwriter genre page?

Point being, it’s getting harder and harder for the musician thing to be a viable career alternative, at least in the traditional sense. So how does a musician keep from losing their job in an environment where the value of an art is changing?

To play or not to play, that is the question:

Whether tis better to play for free

And receive much adulation and exposure,

Or hoard thy skills against a cheapened art

And by opposing, silence it: to quit, to pluck the strings

No more; and by a silence, to say we end

The joyous noise and the thousand lovely songs

That man might have wished to hear?

(a little Shakespearean frivolity, for a serious subject.)

Demon’s Music XIII: Just Relax

That evening after her shift, she made her way to Cal’s office. She still felt shaken after this morning’s strange encounter, and she had made up her mind to ask Cal if he’d experienced anything… Strange… Since the antique piano arrived. Part of her felt deathly afraid of what he might think, but she felt like she had to tell someone. What if she really was cracking from stress or worry or… something? She took a breath and rapped on Cal’s office door. It opened before her third rap.

“Maren,” he said smiling.

Maren smiled back. Her stomach felt full of jitters, good and bad. “Cal.”

He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Come on in for a minute — I have to save my work and then we have the whole rest of the afternoon.”

Maren followed him into his chaotic office. While he rapidly typed in a few last figures and saved them, she took her time looking at the historical Theatre memorabilia collected in the small room. There were old, framed movie posters, pictures of former productions, newspaper clippings, a few plaques, a few awards… Even old photographs from different stages in the Theatre’s lifetime.

“Amazing some of it has survived this long,” he commented right in her ear.

“Very.” She straightened and faced him. “So what did you have in mind for the afternoon?”

He smiled a devilish smile that turned her knees to jelly. His hands snaked around her waist and she found herself snugly in his embrace. “I had… Ideas,” he whispered into her ear.

“Oh really?” she asked, as she found his mouth with her lips.

They explored each other for the next few minutes, just enjoying their closeness. When they came up for air, Cal spoke.

“Actually, I wanted to see if you were interested in playing music with me again?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Just what I hoped you’d say.” Cal seized her hand and towed her laughing down the hall.

She stopped at the edge of the stage though he continued across to the piano. She watched as he swept the cover from the stage instrument, then held his hand out to her with a flourish. Maren felt her cheeks redden as she stepped from the curtains to join him. She took his hand and his fingers were warm as he guided her onto the bench next to him. The touch of their hips sent a tingling of butterflies soaring in Maren’s stomach.

He began to play a slow, seductive melody, and he glanced at her with a wink. She grinned and nudged him fondly with her shoulder. He laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll be serious.” He modified the melody into a different one. After a few moments, Maren identified it as the Barcarolle from the Tales of Hoffman. They spent the next couple hours trading songs; he’d play a melody for her to accompany and then they’d switch. It was fun and yet intellectually stimulating; she got so she could follow him no matter what key or time signature he chose. When Maren had the lead, Cal continually surprised her with how he seemed to know where she headed before she herself knew.

“You two sound great together!”

Maren flinched from the keys to spy Lettie from the box office sitting in the first row. When had she arrived?

“Thank you, Lettie!” Cal called.

“How long has she been there?” Maren hissed at Cal.

“Ive been listening for the last hour, Miss Thompson, and a lovely hour it has been,” Lettie said. “But, it is late and this old woman needs some rest.”

“Good night, Lettie,” Cal said.

“Night, boss, Miss Thompson.” The elderly lady levered herself up from the chair and slowly made her way up the aisle.

Maren gave Cal a shocked look. He chucked softly. “I told you there’d be nothing to worry about if you’d just relax…”

She let out a shaky breath and gave him a small smile. “Maybe I can do this…”

“Of course you can, sweetheart. And just to prove that you can, I would like to ask if you’d be interested in doing a duet with me? Just like this. You can still do your solo if you want.”

Maren felt speechless. The man surprised her at every turn! But furthermore, she’d just played for an hour in front of an audience and had no problem. Granted, she hadn’t known Lettie was listening, but still — Cal had kept her engaged enough in the music that having a listener hadn’t been an issue. Maybe she really could do this! Maybe doing a duet with Cal was a good entry point into combating the fear that had held her career hostage for so long…

“Yes,” she said at last.

Cal grinned and planted a swift kiss on her cheek. “That’s my girl,” he said.

* * *

This is part of an ongoing story — catch up via the Serials page!

Ouch

Heather’s first rule of archery:

If thou forgets thy proper form, much foul language and sorrow will follow…

Traditional archery is harder than it looks. Proper form is so, so, so important… As you have just seen. Normally I do pretty good at remembering my form… Apparently, all it takes is focusing on something new (shooting from a different position) to wreck my habit.

Which really means — that I need to practice more, until proper form is ingrained to the point it becomes automatic.

Which is no different than gaining musical prowess, or learning to bake a pie, or draw pretty pictures or write stories. All the things in life that are worthwhile are worth the extra effort, and you do them over and over again until they are right.

Right now I can hit a 60cm diameter “round” on the butt (traditional archery target) most of the time at ten to fifteen yards. I want to hit it not just all the time, but to do that AND be able to hit a nine-inch pie plate at twice that distance. Range-time is definitely in my future.. That is, after I’m not so ouchy…

Stitches

I am a master

At stitching my Broken pieces

Back together,

at welding cracks

At stemming tears

At silencing cries.

My entire life has been

A mimicry

Of Humpty Dumpty.

My strength

Is in succeeding

Where

All the King’s Horses

And

All the King’s Men

Failed.

(2012)

There are some decisions we make in this life that stick with us. Some mold us into something better. Some break us into pieces which we must then find a way to glue back together. And we have to live with it…

I think, perhaps, that is the toughest thing to understand, to realize and come to grips with. That each of these moments cannot be undone, or changed, that there are no “do-overs.” That each of these decisions we make — no matter how small — can affect numerous aspects of our lives, and even the lives of those around us… Whether we want our choices to affect them or not.

The only thing we are capable of is the effort to make a good decision. In the space of time we are given, we can only do our best to make the right decision for the situation. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we get it wrong. Sometimes, it’s a crapshoot and nothing is right, but we do the best we can with what we’ve got.

And then we get to stitch the pieces back up.

Nobody ever said life was easy or fair. Sometimes I just wish it wasn’t so damned hard.

Demon’s Music XII: Deal or No Deal

Maren jiggled her keys in the lock until it gave, and she fairly danced her way inside the Theatre. What a night! She’d always liked Cal, he’d always been one of her closest friends growing up, but she never anticipated the fireworks when he kissed her. She smiled to herself and waltzed down to the rehearsal room to drop off her stuff. And to find out that he could play! Maren wondered just what other things she didn’t know about him, and decided that she would enjoy finding out.

Maren cheerfully set herself up at the rehearsal spinet and plunked out a quick melody on the keys. She smiled, then set off for Cal’s office to see if there had been any cancellations in her schedule. Though she was a freelancer, most people left messages for her at the Theatre since that’s where she spent most of her time. As she started up the stairwell, she couldn’t help feeling giddy at the thought of seeing Cal again…

The silvery piano-man blocked her path.

Maren froze on the stairs.

“Have you come to a decision on our arrangement?” he asked.

“No,” Maren said. She felt distinctly cornered though his expression remained open and neutral.

“I see,” he replied evenly. “The show is in five days and that’s as long as my offer lasts.” He approached her, almost floating down the stairs, and she was pinned like an insect under his mercury stare. He touched her chin and his fingers felt like ice. “Life is collection of opportunities that appear, then vanish for good. Please don’t hesitate, my dear.”

And he was gone, no more than a vision of grey smoke that left her I’ll at ease.

Don’t hesitate. Don’t wait.

Maren shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She didn’t like being pressured, but what if he was right? What if this was her last chance?

* * *

This is part of an ongoing serial story — catch up via the Serials page!

Gear review: Yamaha APX 500 II

I received this guitar as an anniversary present on July 6th. Initial observations? LOVELY. The finish is flawless and glossy. All the edges and corners are nicely put together. This guitar is beautiful. The Internet photos don’t really do it justice.

The Weekend Review:

Everything works as advertised. I remain impressed: the only time I tuned this guitar was when I pulled it out of the box and after four days of extremely HOT temperature, it is Still. In. Tune. I’ve never had an instrument, let alone a stringed instrument, stay in tune after one tuning. Impressive? Yeah.

The action is nice and low, very easy to play. It masterfully walks the tolerance line: no buzzy strings, no scary intonation issues. I remain impressed with this instruments’ resonance, especially for the thinline body profile. And I’m loving how it sounds. I know some reviews are critical because the APX doesn’t have the heavy bass like a common dreadnought, but I like it. It is plenty loud and rich sounding, without overpowering my voice. So far, it’s everything I wanted in a guitar. The narrow profile is nice on my screwed up shoulder, she’s beautiful, stays in tune… Just great.

The Three Week Review:

This guitar is just right. There’s really no other way to say it. This narrow little Yamaha is everything I was hoping it would be. I’m in love with the electronic system, especially the built-in tuner. I am in love with her sound. I just can’t keep my hands off her (which is a good sign after two weeks). At this point, I have no complaints. I mean, seriously: STILL IN TUNE. I check about every time I play, too, and the strings haven’t shifted one iota. The best part is the intonation is about as close to being bang-on perfect as you can get — all the way up the fretboard, capo or no (I use a Planet Waves adjustable tension capo to help combat the inherent sharpness of fretboard mathematics… This Yamaha doesn’t really seem to care, she’s about right on pitch either way).

And I’m not suffering from any shoulder pain when I play her. And she is not hard to play (F is a breeze for once!). The good things just keep stacking up, so much so that I sold my 3/4 Luna to help cover the cost of this black beauty without a second thought or doubt.

Everything people rave about in their reviews of the APX 500II is true. I will admit I was skeptical — hopeful, yes, but skeptical — and the gamble paid off. This is an exceptional guitar for the money. I might even go so far as to say it’s a steal. In the last few weeks, this guitar hasn’t given me any reason to doubt it as a fine instrument.

Now comes the test of time… Let’s see what I say in two months. Although I doubt very much anything will happen to change my mind!

Demon’s Music XI: Good Night

He cupped his hands gently around her face and lost himself for a few minutes in the heat of her kiss. He probably shouldn’t have done it right then, given Maren’s vulnerability, but damn if she didn’t look so beautiful and happy… His mind wandered eagerly in the direction of the bedroom as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He wanted her. But not yet. He fought the urge to let his hands wander South; that would be too much, too fast. And he didn’t want to scare her. Of course, by the way she had her hands fisted in his shirt, he didn’t think that would be too big of an issue…

He gently brought the kiss to a close. Taking her hands in his own, he kissed her knuckles one by one. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he said with a smile.

Maren’s cheeks turned red. She gave him a shy look. “I can’t believe we did that,” she whispered. Cal grinned.

“I’m glad,” he said, and she flushed again. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her face or trying to kiss her again. The second time was gentler, and he leisurely tasted her. Maren leaned into him, and he smiled against her mouth before pulling away.

“Do you want to practice some more?” he asked.

She gave him a coy look. “The kissing or the music?”

God, he loved her. He grinned. “Both, but I was thinking the music.”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s pretty late,” she murmured.

“You’re right. Want me to see you out?”

“Please,” she said shyly.

Cal hopped up from the bench and offered her his hand. She took it and he was over the moon as they walked to the back door. Holding hands with her felt natural, having her next to him felt natural. The heavy metal rear door clanged as he pushed it open for her and held it.

She placed her hand lightly of his chest. “Goodnight, Cal,” she said, leaning up on her toes to give him a parting kiss. He lowered his lips to hers and time spun in brief, hot circles. They parted, and their breath fogged up the chill Autumn air.

“Goodnight, Maren,” he said, his voice husky. He watched until she got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot. Then he stepped back inside and shut the door. Damn, he thought, rubbing his hand through his hair. He hadn’t expected that to happen. Hot damn. Another giddy smile broke across his features. He started for his office.

Partway across the backstage, he came upon an eerie feeling. Warm thoughts of Maren fled as he turned, carefully inspecting the shadowy rear of his theatre. He felt watched. His shoes scuffed on the floor, the only noise in the tight, tense silence. He bumped into a set piece, a fake stone wall with dramatic bloodstains on it. Something about the wall looked wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The hair on the back of his neck rose.

Get a grip, man, he told himself severely. Cal hustled toward his office. Old buildings were creepy after dark, and the Old Brisby Theatre was no exception. He’d been here too long today anyway. Good thing though… His thoughts turned back to Maren as he walked down the hall.

* * *

The piano rumbled and growled to itself. The manager had to go. The stupid man was going to ruin everything!

* * *

This is part of an ongoing story — catch up via the Serials page!

Don’t Trade it In

I wouldn’t trade

My love

For every wish made

On every star in the sky

Even if

I knew

I’d not get another moment

With you

(2012)

People make jokes about being married all the time. Not a day goes by that I don’t hear at least one snide — or outright petty — comment made about spouses. And then there’s the public conflicts. The blatant disrespect for each other…

I’m tired of it. Grow up!

No, seriously: grow up. All that second grade crap? It has no place in a mature, stable relationship. What, exactly, does bitching about whether someone left the toilet seat up (or down) truly accomplish? Aren’t there more important things to be concerned about in our adult lives?

Put your love for each other first. It’s hard to do, sometimes, especially when times are tough and tempers run short, but if you can grow up enough to realize that the petty shit doesn’t matter at the end of the day, I can promise you’ll be a lot happier. Love is beautiful! Love is durable and will last a lifetime if you treat it right. It’s worth it! It isn’t something you fall in and out of, it isn’t fleeting, it isn’t fickle. If we let it, love has the power to overcome all kinds of obstacles. We just have to trust in it, and forget the misplaced toilet seats, the forgotten errands, the little accidents we make. Love is made of sterner stuff than we think. It may bend and scuff and get banged around a little, but don’t trade it in like a cheap car. It’s worth more than that, and all it takes most times is just a little bit of polish and nurturing to make it shine like brand new.

Life isn’t worth living with no love in it. So why hold grudges? Why go out of your way to make the one you’re with miserable? Why the one-upmanship? Why all this talk of divorce and lawsuits over childish things? Put it aside. Talk. Hold hands. Be best friends. Be lovers. Those are the things life was made for. Not mind games and separate bedrooms. Life is too damn short, people. We’re here for barely a blip in time… Isn’t it better to love — completely, truly, faithfully, passionately — than to spend a lifetime, short as it is, squabbling?

I am old-fashioned, and feel more and more like a stranger in a strange land when others try to get me to follow along in the relationship bashing. I won’t do it. Love is too precious to tear to pieces for nothing more than a few catty words and few gloating moments.

Demon’s Music X: Realizations

Maren hesitated at the edge of the stage. The Steinway grand shone under the single bank of lights and she couldn’t seem to bring herself to step out there. She wanted to run around the back way and take the lower route into her familiar orchestra pit below the stage. The impulse was overwhelming. She swallowed a lump in her throat and forced herself to breathe. If she backed out now, she’d never get out of the pit.

“You alright?” Cal asked her. He put a hand on her shoulder. “You look a little peaked…”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, giving him a brave smile.

“Good!” He clapped his hands together. “Then show me what you’ve got!” He jogged out onto the stage, then down the steps into the first row.

Maren took a breath, squared her shoulders, and strode toward the piano.

“Woo, woo woo!” Cal cheered from the audience seating. Maren felt her cheeks begin to burn, though she was trying not to laugh. She stopped by the piano.

“Are you trying to make it sound like a full house?” she asked.

“Yep! Is it working?” he retorted cheerfully.

“Yes!” She sat down on the bench. Her hands felt clammy and she dried them on her pants.

Cal ceased his cheerleading, and a heavy silence settled on the auditorium. Maren raised her hands to the keys and felt her insides begin to tremble. I can do this, I can do this, she chanted to herself. She pressed down on the first chord.

Notes followed one another and the Steinway sang under her hands. Music burst out of its open top, flying toward the rafters to cascade back down in a wash of lovely harmonies. She had picked a Tchaikovsky piece she used to play back in her college days because of its familiarity. She didn’t have to start from scratch, which was good since the show was in a week. Maren snuck a glance at Cal and was pleased to see open admiration on his features, and she stretched herself, throwing the notes around with gusto. Everyone would be so stunned to see her performing…

Everyone…

And she faltered.

First, there was one missed note, then, two, and then the entire movement came apart at the seams, a nightmarish reproduction of every one of her other failed stage attempts. Maren couldn’t help the sudden onset of panic, and she scrambled about the keyboard, trying to get the damage under control, trying to conceal the mistakes among other calculated notes, and it was no longer Tchaikovsky, no longer music. It was noise. Sheer, ugly noise. Her fingers felt like they were twisted around each other, trying to find notes that evaded her. At last, she gave up, and the cacophonic sound came to a dissonant halt.

Maren let her hands drop from the keys. She leaned forward until her head rested on the piano top. “Cal–” she said, the syllable soaked with self-doubt.

“Not one word,” he said, and she looked up to find him standing beside the piano.

“I–”

“I said not one word. Not one self-deprecating thought.” He sat down on the bench next to her. “Play with me for a bit.”

“What?”

“Play a little duet with me,” he repeated, settling himself next to her.

“You play?” she asked. She was stunned. Everyone knew the theatre manager didn’t do music.

“A little, now let’s go,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you know The Trout.“

“Of course, yes,” she said, and to her amazement, he began to play the top hand. Rather proficiently, too, she noted as she raised her hands to the keys. Cal grinned at her as she came in with her part.

“Now take the melody,” he said, and they switched parts. Maren found herself grinning back at him as she mimicked his gusto in the lower register. Cal nudged her with his shoulder, then launched into an intricate variation. Maren gawked at him as she kept up. He just grinned. They switched again, and it was her turn to come up with something. So she did. Cal threw back his head and laughed, meeting her every step of the way. His glee was infectious and Maren found herself giggling as they swapped themes and variations.

“You can do this, Maren,” Cal said over top of their music. “You just need to relax a little. It’s not a test. It’s music. It’s something you love.”

Maren felt that tiny seed of hope begin to sprout. “You might be right,” she conceded.

He winked at her. “You know I am.”

They lost themselves in the music, and Maren sat back with astonishment as the piece wound around to the beginning, and then to the end.

“That was fun,” she said with a smile. “More fun than I think I’ve had at the piano in a long time.” She turned to find him much closer than she realized. The butterflies came back, but it was a different feeling as she looked into his eyes.

Cal leaned in and kissed her, and to her surprise she found herself eagerly kissing him back.

* * *

This is part of an ongoing serial story — catch up via the Serials page!