How do you know when you are losing your mind?
Oh, please, let me tell you. I think I am officially certifiable.
How do I know? I have been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. (I have always found that expression hysterical, as well as "I'll never get out of this world alive." What does that mean?)
This might be the CRAZIEST thing I have ever done in my life:
I went downtown yesterday to meet a couple of my colleagues and talk some music. Afterwards, I drove a a cello over to a local luthier for one of my students to be fixed. When I was done, I had to go back to the Sibley Music Library—which is part of the Eastman School of Music. The library is located on a one-way city street. I was in a hurry to get up to the library and get some research done for an article I have been working on. I spent thirty minutes in the library gathering materials, doing some writing on my computer. I gathered up all my materials to make my way out the door. I went to grab my keys in my pocket—not there. Uh-oh. My keys are NOT in my pocket! What does this mean?
I start panicking. If I locked my keys in my car, I am in BIG trouble. It's 5:00 p.m. Wifey is at a rehearsal until 10:00 p.m. The children are at home with a sitter for an hour before I get home and make dinner, and put them in bed. If I locked my keys in the car, there is no one that can come out and bring me a spare set.
I walk down the stairs of the library to street level, all the while scheming how I will break into my car. Remember the old days when you locked your keys in your car and could just stick a coat hanger down through the window (open or not) and release the latch on the door. Ah, the 1970's. Anyway, I walk down to the street and see that not only have I locked my keys in my car, but I also left my lights on. This can only mean one thing. I left the keys in the ignition. Yeah, that's right. Keys in the ignition, and left the car running for thirty-five minutes on a busy city street. How on Earth someone did not jump into my open vehicle and drive off never to be seen again is beyond me. Although, let me just take a moment to thank all you would-be criminals for not ripping the serial number from my Toyota Camry and putting it on a truck to Mexico to be sold for scrap. If there was a regional "Stupidity Award" I would have unquestionably won it yesterday.
First, let me say that being part of the Trakkers family thus far has been an unbelievable experience. The greatest part of it this team for me is to have a group of age-groupers who are as terribly stretched as me with their personal lives, jobs, children, training and everything and anything else we try to fit into a twenty-four hour day. My teammates understand how difficult it is to balance your personal, professional, and athletic lives. For instance, the next few weeks are going to be incredibly crazy for me with work
THE FRIDAY TOP FIVE
I sometimes get into these completely esoteric conversations with some of my musical colleagues scattered about the country about who the greatest songwriters, guitarists, and albums of all time. My Friday Top Five this week include five albums that I could not live without if stranded on a desert island. What are yours?
#4) Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band — The Beatles: Speaking of concept albums and Karlheinz Stockhausen—who was on the cover art—this masterpiece of rock and roll transcends generations for its ability to stay current through the decades. The albums eclectic use of orchestration—quite literally—includes clarinet on When I'm Sixty-four, a string quartet and harp on She's Leaving Home, a harpsichord on Fixing a Hole, tubular bells and a French horn quartet on Sgt. Peppers.
#3) The Art of The Fugue — Bach (as played by Glenn Gould). The Art of the Fugue has always mystified me. Trying to figure this out is like trying to decipher hieroglyphics or read sanskrit with a decoder ring out of a Lucky Charms box. Plus, I would definitely need something a bit more cerebral with a lifetime to figure out.
#2) Requiem — Gabriel Fauré: Ah, a requiem you say? A Mass for the dead? Yes, but this is not your Great, Great, Great, Great, Great Grandfather's Requiem. The Faurè requiem is the "kinder", "gentler" version of this old school favorite. Composed between 1887, and 1890, Faure replaces the usual Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) with the Pie Jesu (a motet derived from the final couplet of the Dies Irae). More importantly, I would need something to listen to as the coconuts and fresh water slowly run out.
#1) Music for 18 Musicians —Steve Reich: This iconic American composer, whose name has been synonymous with minimalism for over forty years, wrote several great works, but none of which really resonate with me as much as this composition. It is a masterpiece in form and timbre that allows the listener to groove with the music, or merely lie back on the sand and enter a deep meditative state. If you have not discovered this work yet, go immediately to your library and check this one out. You can thank me later.
Geneva Bicycle (voted one of the top 50 bicycle shops in the country) to be fitted for my Kestrel later this week.
Did I mention I'm losing my mind?
Some Updates: The Ragner Relay that I am running with eleven of my closest friends (including wifey) is coming together. So far, we have nine runners committed. We have decided to name our team "The White Hots". Rochester, NY is the home of Zewigels hot dogs—a local landmark.
Thanks for reading. Train Smart!