Oberlin Blogs

Tonight: Music party at Harkness, with Andrew Gombas, Birthday Kids, and Dos Mil Días De Fuego. Before that, I saw Spring Back, a dance show, so it's been... a long night. My ears hurt. My thighs hurt. I am super-duper happy.

For the record, I am already scared of this story, but hearing it retold in such a dark and echoey space, preluded by an organ piece played in a dark room, well, it was amazing and nerve-wracking. It was the coolest shoot I've even been involved in.

That extra dash of terror because I don't really know what will happen next in my part is always exciting.

I went into the first lesson armed with ten years of violin lessons, one year of music theory, and a textbook.

Oberlin is a mecca for all things music, and not just because of the Conservatory. Cool awesome bands and musicians are here all the time, at a fraction of the cost of most performances in the real world.

I love warm weather. Everything feels better when you can walk out the front door and realize you're wearing too many layers.

Papageno, essentially a humanized bird and bird catcher, sang about how he wanted to catch chicks. And when he said "chicks," he didn't mean those little yellow baby chickens.

Several weeks ago, I found myself on a top floor balcony suite at a ski resort 300 miles away, talking and sharing laughs with a couple of the freshest talents out of Cleveland. How did I wind up there?

For three weeks of the year, the walls of the Bent corridor (which I totally thought was just a descriptor, not the name of two illustrious alumni, up until last week) are graced with beautiful local artwork from students from the 9th Congressional District. I was ever so lucky to be there photographing it.

There were, of course, pages of specific instructions and a symbol key, but that doesn't change the fact that for my friend's recital I was required to look at a photo of a rabbit man in a suit running away from artillery fire and translate it into a part for drum set/percussion.

I had envisioned myself waking up with the sun and birds each morning, going for a long run during which I'd plan out my writing for the day, then plunking down with my laptop and an oversized mug of fair-trade coffee at Oberlin Market and getting to work. (Nope.)

Forget that there was no hot water in my bathroom and that the hotel gym cost an extra $18 a day to work out at; I was delighted with our 13th floor window overlooking Lake Michigan, and the opportunity to spend some time with Linda, whom I adore.