Jazz music
I have been thinking about this post for awhile, but have not had the chance to write about it until today.
I was driving home the other day with my radio set to scan. It briefly paused on the jazz station, and I hit scan again to keep it there. Growing up, I never liked jazz. In fact, if you asked me what type of music I liked, I would reply, "Anything except country, classical, and jazz." At the ripe old age of 30, I have to amend that statement to, "Anything except country."
Let's hope that never changes.
The first time I actually listened to jazz was when I was 21 years old. I was living in Philly at the time and there was a jazz club on Broad Street that was getting ready to close its doors. In somewhat of a strange and random experience, a friend of a friend (or really a friend of a brother of a friend) asked if I wanted to go with him to check it out. Looking back, I suppose it was a date, but at the time I thought little of it. During that year, a lot of odd things happened that were not quite in line with my understanding of "self". Yet, all of those experiences are a part of me, so I guess buried within me is a past self that I have moved beyond. Either way, it was the first time I really listened to jazz.
We got dressed up and I looked the part of arm candy as we strolled through the city on the way to the club. I remember the weather being nice, though whether that meant brisk or balmy, I could not say. I had fun and can distinctly see myself smiling and laughing and enjoying the lights on Broad. I felt good. And I definitely liked the jazz.
When I first accepted the invitation (date?), I wondered what I was getting myself into. I hated jazz. How boring! How repetitive! And besides, I concert goer I am not. As much as I love music, I prefer to be an active participant, not someone sitting opposite the stage. As the night approached, I got more and more nervous. Why was I going to put myself through hours of awful music? What if I am dressed up too much? I barely know this guy - why did I agree to go to this club with him? (Okay, I know the answer to three - he was darn cute!)
And so, we went, and I actually legitimately enjoyed the music! It had a complexity I never noticed before and I appreciated the musicians and their ability to gel without conversing about how they were going to go about it. They seemed fully immersed in their music and their own care was the next note or beat. I knew that feeling, and I missed it. Philly was a year of no music, in more ways than one.
I remember walking back to my apartment feeling really upbeat. While the company was good, I cannot say that it was him who was making me happy. That year was miserable in so many ways, but the music did something to me and I felt lighter.
The evening ended. He wanted to hook up. I declined.
After that event, him and I hung out several times. No kisses, but he was a good friend to me when I needed one. As I moved around my lab rotations, my final leg took me to Hematology, where the jazz played 24/7. I would sit and stare into my microscope for hours on end counting blood cells or sperm or whatever, and let the jazz relax me and connect me to the people around me.
Now this is a strange tie-in, but I heard the news that Steve Jobs, the founder and former CEO of Apple passed away fro pancreatic cancer yesterday at the age of 56. The radio program was discussing his legacy. Not only did he revolutionize how we listen to our music, but he essentially caused the downfall of the CD and physical music stores. He had a hand, albiet a distant one, in allowing new an emerging artists to put their music out there on the web and have it easily bought and sold and heard.
The program played a bit of his 2005 commencement speech to Stanford, which you can find HERE. The speech is really wonderful and inspirational, and as I was reading it this morning, it actually made me think of my whole experience in Philly. As he said, it was "bitter medicine". At the time, I did not know how my life was going to progress. When I woke up in the morning, I knew things had to change, because I was not living a life I wanted to lead. I did not yet know how all of the dots would connect together.
That year had great firsts (living on my own, getting my cat, being independent, taking board exams, seeing shows, trying new foods) and it also had a lot of dark times (cheating, lying, fear, being alone, hating myself, being sick to the soul, not having music, hurting others, breaking up). As I already said in this post, it was miserable. Yet, we all have to go through junk like that. The only hope is that we learn from it and that some day, it will all make sense, and we will get it, and we will be whole again. Nearly every day of that year felt like a bullet hole in my soul... but here I am, all healed. Time helps.
When I hear jazz now, it makes me smile. It makes me think of a cute boy who liked me without even knowing me. It makes me think of working in the lab at the hospital. It makes me feel like winter and cozy sweaters and connections. It is really hard to describe the completeness it makes me feel, but it is like being in a movie when I hear jazz.
To be honest, the deep down reason it may hold a special connection for me is that is was the start of changing who I was. It was the first time I said "no" because it was best for me. It was when I began to realize that I was in charge of myself and that I could be happy and I could figure myself out and, even better, that I would.
Steve Jobs' commencement speech reminds me of those convictions, of that hope. It is like jazz to me. So while I know that this post is probably really disjointed and confusing, maybe you will at least get a sense that I think things can change and be different and we can live the lives we enjoy... it just takes experiences, both good and bad, and time, for everything to fall into place.
I was driving home the other day with my radio set to scan. It briefly paused on the jazz station, and I hit scan again to keep it there. Growing up, I never liked jazz. In fact, if you asked me what type of music I liked, I would reply, "Anything except country, classical, and jazz." At the ripe old age of 30, I have to amend that statement to, "Anything except country."
Let's hope that never changes.
The first time I actually listened to jazz was when I was 21 years old. I was living in Philly at the time and there was a jazz club on Broad Street that was getting ready to close its doors. In somewhat of a strange and random experience, a friend of a friend (or really a friend of a brother of a friend) asked if I wanted to go with him to check it out. Looking back, I suppose it was a date, but at the time I thought little of it. During that year, a lot of odd things happened that were not quite in line with my understanding of "self". Yet, all of those experiences are a part of me, so I guess buried within me is a past self that I have moved beyond. Either way, it was the first time I really listened to jazz.
We got dressed up and I looked the part of arm candy as we strolled through the city on the way to the club. I remember the weather being nice, though whether that meant brisk or balmy, I could not say. I had fun and can distinctly see myself smiling and laughing and enjoying the lights on Broad. I felt good. And I definitely liked the jazz.
When I first accepted the invitation (date?), I wondered what I was getting myself into. I hated jazz. How boring! How repetitive! And besides, I concert goer I am not. As much as I love music, I prefer to be an active participant, not someone sitting opposite the stage. As the night approached, I got more and more nervous. Why was I going to put myself through hours of awful music? What if I am dressed up too much? I barely know this guy - why did I agree to go to this club with him? (Okay, I know the answer to three - he was darn cute!)
And so, we went, and I actually legitimately enjoyed the music! It had a complexity I never noticed before and I appreciated the musicians and their ability to gel without conversing about how they were going to go about it. They seemed fully immersed in their music and their own care was the next note or beat. I knew that feeling, and I missed it. Philly was a year of no music, in more ways than one.
I remember walking back to my apartment feeling really upbeat. While the company was good, I cannot say that it was him who was making me happy. That year was miserable in so many ways, but the music did something to me and I felt lighter.
The evening ended. He wanted to hook up. I declined.
After that event, him and I hung out several times. No kisses, but he was a good friend to me when I needed one. As I moved around my lab rotations, my final leg took me to Hematology, where the jazz played 24/7. I would sit and stare into my microscope for hours on end counting blood cells or sperm or whatever, and let the jazz relax me and connect me to the people around me.
Now this is a strange tie-in, but I heard the news that Steve Jobs, the founder and former CEO of Apple passed away fro pancreatic cancer yesterday at the age of 56. The radio program was discussing his legacy. Not only did he revolutionize how we listen to our music, but he essentially caused the downfall of the CD and physical music stores. He had a hand, albiet a distant one, in allowing new an emerging artists to put their music out there on the web and have it easily bought and sold and heard.
The program played a bit of his 2005 commencement speech to Stanford, which you can find HERE. The speech is really wonderful and inspirational, and as I was reading it this morning, it actually made me think of my whole experience in Philly. As he said, it was "bitter medicine". At the time, I did not know how my life was going to progress. When I woke up in the morning, I knew things had to change, because I was not living a life I wanted to lead. I did not yet know how all of the dots would connect together.
That year had great firsts (living on my own, getting my cat, being independent, taking board exams, seeing shows, trying new foods) and it also had a lot of dark times (cheating, lying, fear, being alone, hating myself, being sick to the soul, not having music, hurting others, breaking up). As I already said in this post, it was miserable. Yet, we all have to go through junk like that. The only hope is that we learn from it and that some day, it will all make sense, and we will get it, and we will be whole again. Nearly every day of that year felt like a bullet hole in my soul... but here I am, all healed. Time helps.
When I hear jazz now, it makes me smile. It makes me think of a cute boy who liked me without even knowing me. It makes me think of working in the lab at the hospital. It makes me feel like winter and cozy sweaters and connections. It is really hard to describe the completeness it makes me feel, but it is like being in a movie when I hear jazz.
To be honest, the deep down reason it may hold a special connection for me is that is was the start of changing who I was. It was the first time I said "no" because it was best for me. It was when I began to realize that I was in charge of myself and that I could be happy and I could figure myself out and, even better, that I would.
Steve Jobs' commencement speech reminds me of those convictions, of that hope. It is like jazz to me. So while I know that this post is probably really disjointed and confusing, maybe you will at least get a sense that I think things can change and be different and we can live the lives we enjoy... it just takes experiences, both good and bad, and time, for everything to fall into place.
posted by FireWithin at 10:31 AM
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