Archive for February, 2010

Classically Trained

As I parked my car at work this morning, I realized that I am classically trained. While I gave up on my music career to pursue keyboards of a different variety, I was reminded this morning that I have been conditioned classically–especially when it comes to my radio.

See, I usually have my AM dial tuned to some sport-talk station and even if the topic is not something I’m interested in, I can roll with it. It’s usually baseball that turns me off by the way, although I won’t turn off the radio when it comes up. Sometimes I’ll have my FM dial to a pop station just to keep up-to-date and fresh with the youth movement. Who am I kidding, right?

Once in a while, I’ll get into either a jazz or classical mood. Usually, when I get in the car, I have to turn the radio on and it’s almost always already tuned to sport-talk. But, since I don’t often listen to jazz or classical music, I like to sort of force myself into a habit when I do get into those moods. What I do is this: I’ll turn the car off while the radio is still on and tuned to my classical station of choice. In LA, there was only one classical station, but up here in SF, I have a couple of choices. It’s been KDFC of late though.

I’m proud to say that I have trained myself to leave the radio on before completely powering down my car so as to have the music come on as soon as I return. My classical training did not come easy, but I’m getting the grasp of it with each new day.

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Throwing Fireballs

Whom amongst the least of us hasn’t wondered what it would be like to be able to throw a fireball?

Yesterday, April and I were out preparing for our 5k race (scheduled for Saturday, Feb. 20, in San Leandro, Calif.) with a practice run through our neighborhood. She’s usually far ahead of me when we do those practices so we’ve resigned ourselves to the fact that we can blast the music on our iPods and just enjoy the beautiful scenery along the South Shore of Alameda. On this particular run, it was unbelievably foggy in the middle of the afternoon so there wasn’t much to look at. The mist from the Bay made for a refreshing breath of air though; literally.

As I was heading south on Shoreline Drive, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift away for a couple of seconds. The fresh air was something else to take in. It’s moments like that during which I feel as if things slow down. By that, I mean that I could feel my lungs taking in the air and converting it into energy to use for my run. I know that sounds silly, but I’m reminded of a Toyota commercial that features Bob Harper, one of the trainers from the NBC reality show The Biggest Loser. In it, you see him running through the forest as his voice comes over the top to explain how much he enjoys running because he is literally drawing energy from the earth. It’s sort of new-age in thinking, but the whole idea that energy is far more real and tangible than we allow ourselves to believe from moment to moment is what I’m trying to explain; probably with very little success.

In any case, as I was thinking something deep about the air I was breathing, I started thinking about how our bodies are like machines. In our most recent quest to maintain good health, April and I have begun watching what we eat from day-to-day and have been getting out to exercise nearly four or five days a week. One thing someone brought up to me during that time, as a word of encouragement, was that it’s funny how people will make time to take the utmost care of something like their cars or their homes, but won’t put an extra ounce of effort into taking care of their bodies. Sadly, if your car is stolen or completely breaks down or if heaven forbid, your house should burn down, you can go and buy a new car or house. You only have the one body to work with–and once it’s broken down, there isn’t much we can do about it.

While I enjoy knowing that I’m working towards good health, by no means do I enjoy the physical pain that comes with running. I was complaining to myself when the thought about throwing fireballs came into my head. When I was growing up, I used to play a lot of video games. My favorites were role-playing games like Phantasy Star II or Final Fantasy II and III. If you’re not familiar with those types of games, in them, you control one or more characters and you go through a fictitious world, fighting monsters, fiends or what-have-you.

One of the most important things about those games is gaining experience. Often, you’ll begin the game at a particular level; probably zero. From there, the more you fight and the more you win, the more experience you gain. That experience is measured in something real and tangible; well, points. Every time you gain a certain amount of points, you gain a level. Sometimes, the advancement in level awards you with more hit points, which means your character can sustain more damage from enemy attacks. Sometimes, you might gain magic points or spell points, which allow your character to use more of its magic spells. In certain games, you also learn abilities as your levels go up. In Phantasy Star II, there was an ability that certain characters had, which allowed them to throw fireballs, called Foi.

In the game, I used to walk my character around aimlessly and force it to fight so that it could gain experience points. That way, when I felt like I was ready to go on in the game, I would be prepared to fight the stronger enemies. Eventually, I remember topping out at level 99 (I guess the game didn’t go to three digits) and I pretty much walked through fights with ease.

Stay with me here. There is a point.

So, as I was running on Shoreline Drive, I realized that I was having an easier time than I did the day before; and the day before that. It’s not a surprise that I’m getting stronger and being able to run longer or faster as I get more practice in, but in that moment of slow-motion, I could really feel it. There’s a point on most of my runs at which I feel as if I can’t go any further. That’s when I push just a little harder and once I pass that point, the rest of the way is easy. I would liken those moments to a tough fight in a role-playing game. I’m literally gaining experience in running and hopefully, by the time my 5k race comes around in five days, I’ll be throwing fireballs with great ease.

A Planetary Pleasure

A couple of months ago, my friend Stephen asked me if I would like to see a performance of The Planets by Gustav Holst by the San Francisco Symphony. I recall looking at the available dates and deciding against it as much as I enjoy the suite because of my uncertain schedule.

Earlier this week, Stephen got in touch with me and asked again if I would like to go. This time, I knew I would be available tonight so I told him I was in. My first recollections of Holst’s celestial achievement are from my first year in high school. My band director, Mr. Howard Crawford, handed out a piece entitled Mars one day, and all I could think was “five-four time signature?” As much as we played the first movement in Holst’s collection, I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy it. The dissonance and the chaotic nature of the piece just never resonated with my sensibilities. Of course, looking back, I’m sure the fact that it was a high school wind ensemble trying to pull that piece off had a lot to do with my dislike.

It wasn’t until I heard the Cavaliers of Rosemont, Ill., claim the 1995 DCI Championship with their arrangements of a few of the movements that I truly fell in love with the songs. I’m surprised to say that I’ve never actually attended a professional performance of Holst’s Planets so tonight’s rendez-vous at the Davies Symphony Hall in The City will be particularly sweet.