On Proposals

In between the creme brulee stout and (no root) beer floats last night, the ideal marriage proposal popped up for discussion. This is not a very real possibility for me at this point, but Viki should perhaps be dropping more vigorous hints if she wants to pull off her vision. Without further ado, here's a sampling of what modern women are hoping for (we're not insane, I swear).

Ricky
Situation: Under the Northern Lights
Pros: Beautiful location, cheap excluding travel costs, quiet location outdoors ensures that he will not make a fool of himself in front of crowds
Cons: Limited time frame and location options, requires the fickle cooperation of Mother Nature

Viki
Situation: She is attending a Broadway show or a concert, and at intermission, they have a special announcement and Matt jumps on stage. Cue romantic words and then bursting into song. To the cheers and applause of the audience, Viki accepts.
Pros: The level of coordination and planning would truly signal commitment, and there's nothing like being the star of your own show on Broadway.
Cons: The level of coordination and planning makes this almost impossible to pull off. Also, it'd be asking a lot for Matt to belt out a song...maybe we could settle for having someone else come out and sing, or better yet, having someone else sing while Matt lipsyncs, Chinese Olympics-style.

Me
Situation: He gets down on one knee and says, "There is a set R equipped with 2 binary operations called addition and multiplication such that (R, +) is abelian group with identity element 0, and..."
Pros: This brings proposals to an unfathomable level of dorkiness.
Cons: None.

Addendum (Rhea wants in on this too):

Rhea
Situation: On a trip to Cornell, mystery Cornell engineer takes her to Olin library, to the 4th floor-- romance studies. He gets down on one knee and says "in spite of all my time spent in Duffield, I too have always wanted to spend hours and hours in the library--Olin, Mann, or Uris. I proclaim my love for your here for that reason. Not to mention...I think you wouldn't accept if I did it anywhere else. Oh and I'll be sure to teach you E & M 101 tonight". He pops open a bottle of champagne, quietly of course. Rhea calls Crystal to announce that she's eloping and that they need to arrange something with Sage Hall so that she and mystery eng. can have their chimes concert complete with Nessun Dorma, the Alma Mater duet, and Taras to help.

Cantate

It's been over a year since I've performed with any sort of musical ensemble, and while singing in the shower is fun, it's not quite as rewarding as performing on stage. So, on a whim, I started researching choral groups in Chicago and emailed Cantate, a mixed voice chamber choir with repertoire that looked challenging but not too serious. Two months later, they invited me to come for an audition, and my palms began to sweat. Have I mentioned that the bulk of my vocal training comes from only one semester of Cornell chorale?

The director, Ben Rivera, greeted me at the door, and after shushing the dogs, we got right to business. He handed me a page with text in German, Latin, Spanish, French, and Italian. "Read the text, and if you don't know, make something up," he instructed. Hmm, I took a deep breath and began butchering the paragraphs in front of me. The German was by far the worst, though my Italian wasn't terrific either. Having studied French in college, that paragraph was the cleanest. After I stumbled my way to the end of the page, Ben corrected some of my more egregious errors. "The g's are silent in Italian. At the end of line 2, can you say figlio? In German, there are two ways to pronounce ch. I want you to widen your mouth and say ich with plenty of air moving over your tongue." Luckily, I was able to reproduce the sounds he was making; thank god for being a native speaker of a tonal language. I laughed nervously and commented, "Gee, German and Italian, the two languages I've never sung in."

Next up, sight singing and rhythms. I misread an interval in the sight singing, but was able to correct myself on the second pass. The rhythms were fairly straightforward, though I lost count in the swing section and started that line over. I silently thanked all the people who have requested pieces on chimes which force me to sightread.

Finally, we went through a series of vocal exercises designed to test range. "What part do you sing? Alto 1 or alto 2?" I hesitated. "Well, I've been singing alto 2, though that was partially because we didn't have enough of them." Then, he began putting me through my paces with an array of interval exercises. "Hmm, I want you to sing this with a warm tone. Now I want you to sing the same thing as dark as possible." Wait, what? I was at a total loss for what to do, and attempted the phrase with more forceful punch the second time around. Was that what he meant by dark?

"Ok, that's enough for now. I've been through hundreds of auditions, so I like to give feedback at all my auditions because oftentimes you don't get any. So let's go through your audition, section by section. The pronounciation was a bit rough, but you were able to pick up and repeat what I wanted you to say, so that's really what I'm looking for. Plus, your repertoire is fairly thin, so I'm not surprised you were thrown by the text. Your pitch accuracy is great; you're always in tune. The rhythms were also perfect. Now, after hearing your range, I really don't think you're an alto, and I have a hard time even imagining you as an alto 2. Altos do have more difficult harmonic parts, so maybe you were put there because you're good with pitches. However, your upper range is so much cleaner that it's a disservice to put you in the alto section. One problem though, is that from about A to E your voice is extremely bright and sticks out. Above and below that you're fine. Unfortunately, the bulk of soprano 2 notes are in this range. You seemed unfamiliar with the terms 'warm' and 'dark,' but this is what I meant, and it will help you blend with the group." He demonstrated how to round your lips for a darker sound. It was by far the most informative audition I've ever had.

In the end, it appears that my failings (primarily due to a lack of vocal experience) were overshadowed by solid musical fundamentals and my potential for improvement. If you are in Chicago, look forward to me haranguing you to come to one of my concerts in the future.

The Classy/Trashy Divide

Jen's 23rd birthday dinner was Friday night, and she opted to celebrate at Oceanique, a French-inspired seafood restaurant in Evanston. This was definitely the priciest dinner I've had in long time. In fact, I can't remember the last time I went to a place that meticulously followed service rules for serving women first, counterclockwise around the table. (Had I not been a hotelie for a year and worked Statler banquets, I probably wouldn't have even noticed any of this.) Our water glasses were never more than halfway empty, and the sommelier was able to recommend a great South African wine.

Now for the important part: the food. After perusing the menu online, I was more than a little irritated to see that the menu had changed, and further, that prices had been raised. I ended up ordering the 3-course prix fix, figuring that I could afford to splurge, and it was terrific. I started out with a grilled calamari and shrimp appetizer, served over daikon radish and avocado salad with taro chips. This was followed by intermezzo, a scoop of four-berry sorbet served in a tiny teacup. The entree was tender piece of Alaskan halibut, resting on bright green pesto mashed potatoes. Since it was Jen's birthday dinner, we even got an extra dessert, a chocolate mousse accompanied by fresh fig, mango and berries.

For the occasion, I broke out a dress that I'd picked up at Urban Outfitters on a whim for $96. I rarely buy nice clothing, so this isn't saying much, but this is probably the most expensive item in my closet right now. It's funny how clothing definitely affects your mood; my appearance screamed cute femininity, and I felt an overwhelming urge to bat my eyelashes or go get my nails done.

Then I changed back into jeans after dinner, preparing for a night on the town with the Fed kids. When I showed up in Lincoln Park at midnight:

-Jen T (who has a boyfriend), was getting hit on by some guy, who was plying her with lots of free drinks

-Britton was getting hit on by some married guy, who kept texting her all night.

-Ed almost got into a fight with the guy hitting on Jen. Ed's about the last person I'd expect to ever seen in a bar brawl.

-Finally, Erik just had a minor altercation with some girl who didn't believe the triangle inequality. I think he almost slapped her. (And rightly so, how dare she argue with the power of mathematics!)

Normally, I'm happy to watch the circus that is Lincoln Ave bars, but tonight I left with a feeling of disgust in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps it was the jarring turn of events from the earlier part of the evening. Or maybe I just wasn't in the mood to watch drunken hijinks. Either way, I couldn't get past how ersatz and devoid of meaning the scene was. At the same time though, I must admit that neither am I completely at home in fancy restaurants. Flipping through a wine list with 7 pages of $1000 pinot noirs? That's hardly my comfort zone. I could relate to David's apprehension when he asked what each fork was used for.

All of this means the succeeding night I decided to sit on my couch and watch episodes of the Office on Hulu. Here's to being a fish in water.

2008 DCI Championships

Last weekend marked a new high in pageantry, as thousands crowded into a stadium to be treated to a display of artistry and athleticism. No, I don't mean the opening ceremony for the Beijing Olympics (though that was certainly a sight to see), but rather, the Drum Corps International (DCI) World Finals. This is the pinnacle of achievement in marching music, and I was thrilled to witness a season's worth of hard work and talent on exhibition.

For those unfamiliar, drum corps are similar to marching bands, and consist of (bell-front) brass instruments, percussion and color guard. There are several dozen junior DCI corps, which operate as non-profit businesses and go on summer circuit tours to compete at shows. Each corps has up to 150 members, and auditions for these are highly competitive, often beginning in November for next year's marching season. Over the summer, members dedicate ~10 weeks to full-time rehearsal and competition, culminating with performances from the top 12 corps at DCI Finals. This year, the championships were being held at Indiana University in Bloomington, about 3 hours from Chicago. I had never been to a DCI show before, but I was armed with Matt, a veteran marcher from the '06 season and self-proclaimed DCI obsessionist. He was able to fill in various tidbits of trivia about the individual corps and provide historical references.

When I first mentioned that I had tickets to see an "extreme marching band competition," I was primarily greeted with looks of apprehension. Marching band is popularly viewed as the province of band dorks, and with a reputation for loud, uncontrolled playing, it is not accorded much respect from music aficionados either. Well, I am here to tell you that this is a different animal altogether. However badly your high school band played "Tequila" at football games, push those thoughts aside because DCI deserves to be treated with the legitimacy of a unique art form. In fact, it strips away any pretense of connections with football, save for the field on which you perform.

How do I begin to describe what a drum corps show is like? Most people have played an instrument at one point in their life. Many have danced on stage, and still others have performed in theater. Now combine elements of all these disciplines (an alternate "Triple Threat," if you will), and coordinate over 100 individuals into a single, cohesive unit. A drum corps show is a top-notch concert, with a narrative that resonates with audiences and color guard for enhanced visual appeal. If done seamlessly, this is musical theater on a grand scale. In fact, whether or not you've had marching experience, I am positive that the vast majority of people would enjoy watching a drum corps show. It is a spectacle on the order of the Beijing opening ceremony.

Going into the night, my favorite corps was Carolina Crown, whose show "Finis" featured the Candide overture, among other pieces. But I couldn't remain partisan for long. The Glassmen had a whimsical show titled "Karneval" that featured the release of balloons into the sky. Blue Stars had a show ("Le Tour") themed around bicycles, with guard members rolling bike wheels across the field to each other. How could you resist? The Bluecoats show ("The Knockout") told the tale of a boxing match, with music from On the Waterfront and Rocky. On the field, the horns formed two rings, complete with a boxer inside. The Cavaliers' show ("Samurai") featured the eerie sounds of Japanese warriors and some of the coolest drill of the night. The Blue Devils ("Constantly Risking Absurdity") created a stick figure on the field at one point. And let's not forget their amazing bass line spin.

Now for the Phantom Regiment show. This corps was seeded second at the start of the night, up from 3rd place the night before. Their show was titled "Spartacus," and as the drum major rolled dominantly onto the field atop a platform, you could feel the crowd lean forward in anticipation. Guard members dressed as slaves staggered to the ground, as horn players shoved and kicked them. The performance began, and I was enraptured by the battle unfolding before me: for love, for freedom from Roman slavers, for the hearts of the audience. By the end, the crowds in the stands were on their feet, roaring "I am Spartacus!"

When the scores were announced, Phantom Regiment had taken first place by 0.025 points, the slimmest of margins. I've never felt a stadium quake with so much energy.

Drum corps shows are designed to take place on football fields, and as such, I can't tell you how large the gap is between watching a live show and seeing a grainy clip on YouTube. No photo, no CD, no DVD can possibly capture what it feels like to be in the stands with a smorgasbord of action below you, in every direction you turn. Should you hone in on the guard member riding a bicycle across the field, or watch for the snare feature? Oh boy, the marimba players just popped balloons in sequence! I can't think of another art form for which the gulf between an in-person and on-the-screen experience is wider. If you are the least bit curious about DCI, check next summer for a tour stop near you.

Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me

Through my vast, mostly untapped connections, I managed to score a last-minute comp ticket to a taping of NPR's Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me. This is generally taped on Thursday nights in the basement of the Chase building in the loop, an odd location for a quirky show.

The show focuses on current events, and features several types of quizzes and contests between phone-in callers and guest panelists. This week, we were honored with the presence of Boston Globe writer Charlie Pierce, Washington Post columnist Roxanne Roberts, and comedian Paula Poundstone. Unfortunately, Carl Kasell was away on vacation, so Corey Flintoff graciously stepped in as our scorekeeper, announcing to us, "I want America to know, that I am, like, totally ready to lead."

That of course set the stage for this week's comedic fodder, featuring the infamous Paris Hilton presidential campaign ad, a spoof of McCain's spot comparing Obama to major celebrities.

The first thing I noticed was how much of the live show would be drastically edited and polished into a one-hour segment. The taping lasted about 2 hours, and only an hour of that would make the cut to air. This should reassure anyone who calls in on taped radio shows, because it means your awkward pauses and incorrect answers often get edited out of the show. In an effort to make everyone a winner, you are also supplied with ample hints to answers, and opportunities to guess again.

Awkward pauses aside, the redactions also mean that many of the less appropriate jokes are cut. Pierce's line about Bush making it to the locker room in time to see the wrestling team's clean & jerk will not make the air. Nor will Sagal's comments about breaking up with himself via Slydial, because "it's not me, it's me," "I just don't have any chemistry with myself," and "a man's got needs." I'm willing to bet that a lot of the political banter that was overtly anti-Bush and anti-McCain will also get cut. (NPR lives up to its reputation as a liberal bastion!)

It also appears that sitting in front of a computer all day at work is doing wonders for my knowledge of current events. I recognized a broad variety of stories in the quizzes, from the guy who called 911 after a Subway worker didn't make his sandwich properly, to the $79B surplus in the Iraqi government's budget, to the impending foreclosure of the Shire, a fantastic neighborhood in Oregon inspired by Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Particularly now that I know how difficult it is to sound stupid on air, I am tempted to submit my name as a live caller. Good thing this isn't common knowledge, otherwise we'd have a serious moral hazard problem on our hands.

After the show, a few minutes was spent re-recording selected lines from the script, bits that weren't clearly spoken the first time around. You could hear the producers through the headsets, giving Sagal directions and page numbers of sections to redo. The audience tried to laugh politely at the jokes for the second time around.

The show will air on Saturday morning (check your local station listings for times). If you listen carefully, you might hear my notoriously distinctive laugh.