Me and my handsome brothers


Sick Day

I pride myself on no longer coming down with colds, and what do I feel today? That's right, a cold. Aaaaaarrrggggggghhhh. I thought they were gone with my university days! I was sick all of the time in university, really bad chest colds. And of course I got these colds when I had to play a lot of gigs. Try stifling a massive cough with a viola under your neck. T'ain't pretty. Looking back, I think I was sick due to the, hmmmm, shall we say, "upsetting" relationship I was in and out of at the time. Now what is it? This is really bad timing considering I've got a show tomorrow night and two overnight out of town gigs on the weekend. Wait a minute, the "upsetting" rat- to- my- congested- tat, is involved in these gigs........nope, I just don't think I can blame my colds on that any longer. Probably just the stress of wrapping up teaching and moving to another continent.

Speaking of which, our wedding date is confirmed. June 24! In Malta! No North American family or friends are coming, but we do have a few fellow sailors attending. Lemme just say that the party may resemble the village people. That's all I'm sayin'.

If one more person says to me, "so what are you going to do in Italy," I may just have a psychotic episode. Oh, I don't know, BE HAPPY?!? It's not so much their concern that bothers me, it's the fact that their question thinly veils the patronizing view that I haven't thought about life after the wedding. Obviously these people don't know B.

Oil Spill

Ugh, so the "oil," as all of the truck driving, "John Deere" ball cap wearing population calls them, is up 2-0 in their series. The moronic mayhem that has been unleashed on this town is mind-blowing. If I see one more donkey flag flying from an SUV I think I may just blow as well. My top, that is. And no, I don't mean lifting up my shirt in public. What, is this Mardi Gras?

I was thinking the other day that if this insanity goes to the finals, the boiling point will most likely occur after I'm gone. Phew, I sighed. But then I remembered that it's world cup in nearby Germany this summer and there ain't any more wild, violent, crazed fans than soccer fans. Great.

John commented that maybe I too will be caught up in the donkeyism of sport when I get the opportunity to go to an Atlanta Falcons or VT Hokie game. Perhaps I'll feel differently when I see those flags flying or when I'm invited to numerous tailgate parties. I don't know, I hope not. Sure I like football, and I definitely find it entertaining when I see people of other races throw themselves against the wall when the Dolphins score, but I would hate to have to put my foot in my mouth. And I really don't think that I will ever get so either a. swept up or b. intoxicated that I would commit crimes or expose myself in public. Mainly because these aren't things that I secretly want to do.

Orchestra Tour

My Italian Life: Rock-a-Bye Whino..........or Not

Just a wee rant today about the commentary that has been rampant re: my move to Italy. "OOOOOOOhhhhhhhhh, aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh, that's so romanatic." Um, I guess so. Isn't the fact that I'm getitng married romantic enough? "OOOOOOhhhhhh, what a perfect place to be as a musician, hey, by the way, can you look up this violin dealer in Cremona and send some violins back for me to try?" Um, neither Cremona nor La Scala is within walking distance, therefore, no, noh, nine, non, nie, niet, negatory! Hey, why don't you take a quick trip to Montreal and pick up some crepes seeing as how you're going east and all, to Winnipeg!

Even if there if there is a gaggle of orchestras in Sicily, which I doubt seeing as how everyone seems to be dirt po' I sincerely doubt that there are audition postings on sidewalks or trailing behind Goodyear blimps. Even if auditions are listed in neighbourhood flyers, I CAN'T READ ITALIAN! Or, at least not good enough to understand details, nor is it likely that I will be able to said random flyers within the first week of being there.

I was starting to suspect that everyone had this idea that I'm going to be floating around on canals captained by dudes in striped shirts and berets, sipping wine with my lover, when finally this suspicion was confirmed from the mouth of a babe. One of my orchestra students blurted out yesterday, "so, like, are you going to be taking a lot of boats?" "No, I have to fly there," I responded. "No, I mean when you're there, like, don't they have boats everywhere?"

Maybe people just feel the need to say something. Maybe if my plan was to move to Afghanistan they would say, "oooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh, it will be so nice not to have to worry about sunscreen!"

I know Europe is going to be an adventure and I really am excited but let's not forget that I'm going to be living in Virginia eventually. The best place on earth. Despite the ghettos.

Fiddleriso Paradiso

I received a message at 12:30 PM today asking me to do a symphony dress and show, starting at 2 PM. I had a bunch of other stuff planned in between teaching like, laundry, emailing, running and sleeping (none of which I got done) but I rushed downtown anyway, not knowing what was on the program. To my delight, I found out we were accompanying Natalie MacMaster, the Queen of Canadian Fiddling and her husband, from the band, Leahy. (Not to be confused with Jim Leahy from TPB though they both have ties to the east coast.)

I'm not a big fan of Celtic music, in fact I believe I have said on more than one occasion that those Celtic knobs have had their day (in reference to our on-the-verge of becoming famous Hungarian band) and I don't own any Cds, but I have to say this was an amazing concert. Something you have to see live. Natalie MacMaster is breath-taking in every way. I want to be her. That style of playing is hard enough without adding bouncing around and nursing a five-month old. Wow, I am in awe.

Those of you down south may not know her but she is to Cape Breton music what the Dixie Chicks are to Southern bluegrass/country. Even if you don't like them because of their anti-Bush stance or their style of music, I don't think anyone can argue a lack of musicianship. Makes me want to re-visit Cape Breton. I only travelled through briefly in 1997. Perhaps I will one day make the trip and truly experience everything it has to offer.

Today was beautiful and warm. Spring has sprung here in E-town and not even those wanker Oilers fans can soil the vibrant green that has exploded around us. Perfect day for sitting on a patio and having a drink or walking in the river valley. None of which I did.

No one can accuse me of being negative today! I'll do my best to regain my rant-tastic attitude tomorrow. For now, life is good.

Happy 27th Cousin!

(My moms scanned in the photo, that's why it's lopsided.)

Joke

"Going to war without the French is like going hunting without your accordion."

I got my dress back from the tailor this week. (no longer part of the joke.) I love it. If you wanna see pictures you'll have to email me a request as J reads the site and doesn't want the "szurprise" spoiled.

I re-gifted some Tim Horton's gift certificates to my moms for M-day today. I hate that ghetto cult and my students always give me T.H. money for Christmas/end of the year. I'm all about re-gifting for two reasons: a. I'm cheap (that's probably the biggest reason) and b. I move a lot so can't accumulate too much junk ie. violin Christmas ornaments and such. What did you do for your moms?

Happy birthday Joanna P. and Ebony C.!

(This is the original shot of our band in which I thought I looked too crabby, much like my mood today, but now that I re-examine it, maybe it's better than looking like an alien.)




Mood: Bad

The day started off poorly when I woke up from vivid, disturbing dreams. I have the misfortune of remembering several dreams every morning, and being very affected by them. After lying in bed and attempting to erase my memory, I wandered over to the computer to check my email. My roommate has decided to host a party, ostensibly as an engagement party for me and our friend Miriam, but, as it turns out, it is just an excuse to get drunk and cook goulash. Here is the invite:

Dear friends,

It's spring and I have plenty of wood to burn, so it's time for another cookout a 

la magyar.  Incidentally, we will also be celebrating the imminent nuptials of

two Cifra members (not to each other), the imminent arrival of a new Malone

into the world, and whatever else we can think of (like, if you didn't buy me

any housewarming presents in 2004 or 2005, now would be a great time to make

up for that).

What to bring: Beverages of your choice and lots of presents for me. 

WHAT????????Presents for him?  What about presents for me???????  Or, at least no
mention of presents at all!  That makes no sense!

So I stomp off all miffed and go outside to discover that we're being hit by a
s**ticcane.  High cold winds, and sub-zero temps.  Great, just great.

This stellar day was capped off with a bus ride to new south bumblef**k, waiting for
 a subsequent bus with a bunch of dirty, smelly teenagers, and then having an
 alarming number of students talk back to me all night.  I managed to scare one
 little smart mouth by threatening to talk to his mother, but that wouldn't work
with the delusional and arrogant set of brothers. 

Their mother must plant the idea in the their head that they're good.....it's the
only way to explain why they play so badly yet insist that I'm wrong when I offer
a suggestion like, oh, I don't know, YOU CAN'T PLAY SPICCATO AT THE TIP!

I'll take smarta**es that say they suck but are actually good any day over useless
 donkeys that think they're the next Pablo Casals/Itzhak Perlman.

I gotta go, I need a stiff drink, or at least some TV.

Tag! I'm It!

Four Things I Know

1. I know how to follow the lead of a Hungarian male (see picture of Sanyi and I) in a rudimentary couples' dance.

2. I know how to play poker and win big, mostly when playing against ex-boyfriends.

3. I know how to speak French.

4. I know that Virginia is the best place on earth.

Four Things I Used to Know

1. Like Uri!, I used to know how to solve differential equations in calculus. And just to get him back re: the making fun of non-Americans, I'm gonna have to say that the calculus I did in high school was probably equivalent to what a senior in college studies in the states.

2. I used to know something about the country I'm getting married in, Malta.....I remember writing that word a lot in high school papers.

3. I used to know how to do a flip on a trampoline. Now I think I would break my back.

4. I used to know how to dance and look cool at clubs. I even got kudos from a former member of the Canadian Brass. Then again, he's a former member of the Canadian Brass, so maybe I wasn't that cool.

Four Things I Want to Know

1. I want to know how to speak Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese. Italian, so I don't feel like an idiot for the next 3.5 years, Spanish, so I can become a better American, and Portuguese, cause it's so beautiful.

2. I want to know how to drive stick. Get yo' minds out of the gutter, I mean a stick shift in a car. I'm already a pro at the other kind. Heh heh.

3. I want to know how to win an audition with a high-paying orchestra.

4. I want to know how to get my tight, hot body back after I have kids. Hopefully I have a few years to figure that one out. No kids in the immediate plans.

Four Things I Don't Know and Don't Care About

1. I don't know how to become a contender in a female body-building contest.

2. I don't know who the coach of any hockey team is.

3. I don't know the names of the members of "Nickelback." In fact, I'm not even sure if that's the correct spelling.

4. I don't know how to play the saxophone.

Doomsday

Tomorrow I take my little orchestra on a tour of the city. Shoot me now or forever hold your peace. I'm sure they'll play well (knock on wood) but it's a long day, yo. And their behaviour, especially in between concerts, is usually a bit psychotic.

Question of the day: How good is my Scarface imitation?

Things to consider: A. I'm a girl.
B. I'm not Cuban. (Then again, neither is Al Pacino.)

I was thinking that maybe I should copy Uri! and have a "Name that Line from a Movie" contest. But A. I'm too cheap to send prizes, and B. I never remember lines from movies. Maybe I should have "Name the character of whom Brianne is doing the crappiest, most convoluted imitation." But then I'd have to find a way of recording myself, but that is difficult because A. my mini-disc player was most likely ripped off by a US Airways flight attendant and sold for crack on the streets of Philly and B. I would then have to find a way to put it on my site..... much too difficult since I'd have to enlist the help of one or more Prochazka boy and they seem too busy to even read this.

If you haven't noticed, A. I like lists, and B. I know my alphabet, if only the first couple of letters. Only because the first two are my initials, backwards.

(Picture of Frosty Shosty, my hero)

Tuesday Tidbits: Favorites: Music

I've been told that I'm "too negative," that I "complain" too much, my roommate even likens my whining to the quacking of a duck. Obviously these peanut gallery commentators are complete plebians, but I think I should try to set the record straight nonetheless, and talk about things I actually love. Let's see.... I love long walks by the beach, a beautiful sunset..... oh sorry, maybe that's taking it a bit too far.

Music: Popular:
I love catchy hip-hop. I don't care if it's the "real" deal or not. I'm not ashamed to say I love Jay-Z (Big Pimpin'), Ludacris, Snoop (so creepy, but strangely hot), Nate Dogg (man, that dude has the rap equivalent of the velvet fog going for him), and Kanye West. I've been meaning to write Kanye and tell him that his "Gold Digger" video doesn't do that fabulous song justice..... I'm thinking I need to be in the new and improved version a la Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Oh c'mon, I know you can see it.

I have a soft spot for Fiona Apple due to my kitchen-floor sitting days with my good friend Jay. We used to play that first CD of hers over and over and over and over to the extreme annoyance of our other roommates. We didn't like them very much, so that, of course, made us do it more.

I can't say enough about Maroon 5. I introduced that disk to the buddy collective and it was a huge hit. I have a feeling their follow up album will be a flop. How can you follow up perfection?

Also on my regular playlist: Prince, Billy Joel, Elton John, Scooter, Barenaked Ladies, Hall and Oates, Jamiroquai, and anything featuring Pharrell Williams. Yum.

Classical: I grew up listening to Shosty 5 (Shostakovich 5th Symphony) and have sinced played many more a composition of his. All you composers out there will probably say that his music is simple, unprogressive, and far less interesting than Prokofiev. Blah, blah, I've heard it all before. Dmitri is my boy, and I love him. He did, after all, write a heart-breaking viola sonata on his death-bed. Eat it.

I also love Britten and Bach just as much. Check out Britten's Serenade for Tenor, Horns, and Strings.

Mixed Review

Apparently I am to write about my favorite childhood vacation. Okay, I'll do my best, but as for the 500 word minimum, nobody tells me how many words to write!

We didn't take many holidays growing up. We never flew anywhere, and, if we drove any distance, it was to stay with friends or family. The furthest we ever went was Vancouver BC, and Great Falls, Montana. Whoopee.

So I can't say I have a favorite, but there was one that was particularly memorable both for good and bad reasons. The summer after 11th grade, we drove to BC, with Vancouver being our ultimate destination. Before reaching Vancouver, we stopped in Salmon Arm (interior BC, on the Shuswap) to stay with my Dad's sister and her family. Her daughter, Meghann, is the closest thing I have to a sister as we are the only girls on that side of the family and were born only five weeks apart. (She being older, ha ha!) Unfortunately for me that summer, she was off in Mejico building houses or something else just as ridic so I was stuck either by myself or with our combined droves of brothers. Ugh.

Interior BC is generally quite hot and humid in the summer, but for some reason, their house is out in Alberta-like dryness. It was horrible..... so dry, so hot, and my teenage allergies to the outdoors decided to kick in. I spent most of the days upstairs in the sauna that was the loft, watching Star Wars movies.

Eventually we got on our way to Vancouver, only to have our Ford (Fixed or Repaired Daily) tempo, crammed full of two adults, a 17 year old, a 14 year old, and a 9 year old, break down on the Coquihalla highway. This is a relatively new highway that zips between Kamloops and Vancouver, involving wide miles of long, slow climbing roads. So our car is broken down half way up the climb out of Kamloops.... great.....we're a good 3 hours away from Vancouver. Eventually we inched it to Merritt and I guess something fixed itself because we made it about 5 hours later to Mission, just outside of Vancouver. It was scary, is all I can say. I never looked at mountain driving in the same way after that.

The only good thing that came out of our crawl to Vancouver was somewhere between Merritt and Hope, when my Mom started driving. I had brought along a mix tape I had made specifically for the trip, mostly to expose my parents to "cool" music while distracting them with occasional cuts of classical and oldies. (Keep in mind, this is before the days of CD burners and such..... tapes were all we had.) I snuck in Radiohead between Saint-Saens Requiem and the Mamas and the Papas. Anyway, it was during a long, steep, descent out of some mountain range, with Jimi Hendrix playing, that my Mom ceased being the Mom I knew. Something in the Jimi Hendrix song spoke to her that night and caused her to roll down the window, turn up the volume, and put the pedal to the floor. Did I mention we were going downhill? She was trippin', let me tell you, i think she was also screaming or something. It was only glimpse I had ever gotten into my Mom's inner, wild teenager soul. I'll never forget it. If you've never met my Mom, then you can't possibly imagine how preposterous this whole scene truly is.