Academia touts the value and depth of art, and does a pretty decent job teaching the difference between it and entertainment, if I do say so myself.
Heck, I spent every cent I had (and didn't have) just to fill myself with as much of this literature as possible. And man, Western Art Music is amazing. Profoundly something. I love those wacky, white, male, deceased composers as much as anyone. Sincerely, these rascals wrote some Good Art Music.
But it raises an interesting question... Did hundreds of years of attrition do the hard work of discerning musical quality for us, or are we learning discernment skills for our own selves? And who, exactly, determines what art is? Who determines what is and is not worthy enough [or lofty enough] to be taught? Who determines from which musical genres art can come from? Was it...
It was the summer before 8th grade when I met my first love. Off I went to Christian summer camp for a week. I'd gone every year with some friend or other since I was in second grade. As overt and social as I am now, I wasn't then. And I had a secret: I wrote songs. Much like journaling or writing emo poetry, I poured my heart into songwriting and never told a living soul. Where other kids would come home from school and watch TV or play video games, I'd sit at the piano writing music and recording it on cassettes.
In the awkwardness of 13, I met The Boy at a picnic on Thursday night. He wandered over to our table in the awkwardness of 14 and said, "Excuse me, do you have any condoms? I MEAN CONDIMENTS!!" My friends and I howled with laughter and The Boy ran off, red faced, to find ketchup for his burger from somewhere else. I thought he was a doofus.
But that night was the camp talent show. He stood al...
I've been toying with the idea of writing a personal blog. After reconciling that this would be for me simply because I want to write it, the pragmatic voice of "Who would want to read it?" disappeared. So here we go!
The past few years have absolutely taken my breath away-- there has been painful drama, mostly internal, that has motivated me to take yet another (my fourth in as many decades) major look inward-- Who am I? What do I want? What do I stand for? What do I do? This particular crisis needs a name, since the previous three crises all seem to have innate descriptions that make at least a little sense:
#1 "Teen Years"
#2 "Single as a Grown-Up"
#3 "Terminal Degree and Terminal Marriage"
...and here we are now at phase #4, and there's not really an event attached to this one. Maybe it's "Child Rearing" or "Staying Married," but this defines the issue of selfhood through...