Regional A&S Entry Review

So in the MidRealm, we have a thing called the Kingdom Arts and Sciences competition. In order to qualify for that competition, you have to score a 1st or 2nd place at one of the six regional competitions that happen around the kingdom in the three or four months prior to Memorial Day, when Kingdom A&S and Crown Tournament are held.

This past weekend, I went to the Constellation Regional A&S, which was also the same day that a friend of mine was getting laureled (in period music!) and also, the last Founding Baron and Baroness of the old Baronies was stepping down — Moonwulf and Takaya were handing over the Barony of Rivenstar to a new couple.

This post, though, will be about the A&SA process, and how it went, and my score and comments from the judges.

The entry was performed by myself and my Laurel, Mistress Amelie: “In Darkness” by John Dowland — I sang, and she played the Viola De Gamba. Since the piece is originally scored for Gamba AND Lute, Amelie re-arranged the piece so that the instrumental wouldn’t feel so empty. “In Darkness” is a unique piece, different from everything Dowland wrote prior, and the two parts are far more a duet than a song with accompaniment.

The criteria for entering a Music Performance: Vocal entry is located here.
The documentation is in this Google Docs folder here.

The purpose of this post isn’t to really go over the scores. I’ve found that it’s entirely possible for one judge to think that the material is extremely complex, while another thinks it’s not complex at all. No, the really helpful bits are the comments.

So there are six judging categories: Documentation, Methods and Materials, Scope, Skill, Creativity, and Judge’s Observation. The categories are discussed in the criteria linked above, so I’ll just go through each judge’s comments for each category.

  • Documentation:
    • Judge 1 said “Documentation is good. I would have enjoyed a little bit of a pronunciation guide.” That’s legit — I didn’t think about explaining how Elizabethans would have pronounced the words, and to be truthful, we only really got the song locked in a few days before competition. I will definitely see about getting a pronunciation guide in the documentation for Kingdom.
    • Judge 2 said “Nice coverage of the artist.  Would love to see some mention of the type of artists who would have performed it in period.  You’re dancing just west of the 1600 line — not an issue for me, but it would help to strengthen your argument that Dowland could have had an earlier version of this song pre-1600.”  I’m… not sure how I feel about this one.  I’ll have to think about it.  Something published ten years after the end of period to me, is so close, that I’m not sure I care enough about the 1/2 point loss.
    • Judge 3 said: “Well done.  I enjoyed reading the poem and would like to hear you bring out the second voice.”  I am not sure what that means, and I’ll reach out to the judge in question.
  • Methods and Materials:
    • Judge 1 said “Good presentation.  Use of harmonies are not inconsistent with the lyric(s).  The Dowland piece is well grounded in technical skill.”
    • Judge 2 said “Appropriate costume, vocal style.  Maybe go for a more period-looking binder @ Kingdom.”  This is totally something I’m pursuing; I competed at Kingdom with a three-ring binder, and I’ll have something bound for Kingdom.
    • Judge 3 said “Warm ups are important, your voice is rich and warm.”  My big takeaway from the comments here is that every judge seems to have considered Methods and Materials to be different from the next.
  • Scope:
    • Judge 1 said “The scope of this is very broad — it is both interesting.  I would have enjoyed a little more on performance technique and how this piece differed from the ‘standard’.”
    • Judge 2 said “The sharps and flats made this piece challenging, but it would have been more challenging on a fast-paced song.”  I don’t know I buy that.  The pace of the song can make it more or less difficult, but so does the interval from note to note, harmony or dissonance with the other parts/accompaniment, and ability to discern a pattern in advance.  This song is very difficult to perform.
    • Judge 3 didn’t have any comments about Scope.
  • Skill:
    • Judge 1 said “Again – consistency of pronunciating – was this a ‘recitation’ with a musical tone or was this entry able to stand as recited work without the music”  Which I find interesting for two reasons — 1) No one complained about inconsistent pronunciation during the face to face judging and 2) I -thought- that Amelie and I made it very clear that this particular piece requires both parts to work, that it’s a duet, not a solo with accompaniment.  I’ll have to work on making that more clear.
    • Judge 2 said “very expressive” which was very nice of them, thank you
    • Judge 3 didn’t have any comments about Skill.
  • Creativity:
    • Judge 1 said “The ‘modern arrangement’ does relay the sadness, the inconsistent rhythmic pattern accentuated the loss — the exploration is enjoyable for listeners as well as performers.  
    • Judge 2 said “Reflection of emotion done well — great expression of the mode & interpretation of how it could have been performed.”
    • Judge 3 said “This took a fair amount of courage to do SUCH a different sort of piece!  I am still struck by that end note…
  • Judge’s Observation:
    • Judge 1 said “This is an excellent presentation – please continue to explore late elizabethan vocal music — both irregular rhythms and regular rhythms.  I really enjoyed listening to this work — and hope you continue to explore ‘oral’ presentation
    • Judge 2 said “Very nice!  2nd run-through was better — work on warming up your upper range and STEPPING on those high notes.  Warm up those trills to smooth them out.  And relax into it (easier said than done, I know).  The judge is talking about my range — this piece is at the very top of my range but also at the very bottom of the viola-de-gamba’s range, so there’s no room to re-key it down.  The highest notes are a real stretch for me.  More warm-ups are required.
    • Judge 3 said “Repeat performance will improve.”

So there you are.  My entry and the commentary.  I got a first, which isn’t all that important.  Action items to take on the comments:

  • Pronunciation guide — I’ma look up how these words might have been pronounced in Elizabethan England, and provide a guide for the documentation
  • Contemporaries — I’ma look up contemporaries of Dowland and see if any of them published before the 1600 cutoff.
  • Warm-ups — I’ma warm up EVEN MORE before performing than I already am now.
  • Better presentation — I’ma make a new music holder wossnames at Coronation that will look less jarringly modern.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!

So a long long time ago, waaay back at Pennsic XXI, I went to the heraldic submissions tent at Pennsic, and sat down in front of the herald (Master Talon) and he documented me up a name (I don’t even think that’s doable anymore, can you register your name or device at Pennsic these days?)

Anyway, the name I came up with was Andrew (my regular name), Blackwood (the last name of one of my drumline buddies from college), MacBaine (the last name of a girl I met in Model UN), the Purple (appelation due to garb by HRM Katya).

That was the first step down a long path that hasn’t been bad, necessarily, but… well, that guy was kind of a jerk. Self-centered, a little too loud, quick to seek the spotlight… always meaning well, never really pursuing anything improper, but showing a significant lack of mindfulness and acceptance.

I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been that guy, actually, for about seven years. But memories are long, and names are hard to rehabilitate sometimes, so after trying to use social media and verbal pressure to divest myself of some baggage, I’ve realized that the time has come to make substantive changes in that arena.

Way back when I first apprenticed, a queen told me that Purple could be the color of Royalty, or the color of a bruise. I’m neither, so it’s time to stop.

On friday, I submitted paperwork to the proper herald to register the name Andreas Blacwode. It’s a good, solid Norman name, with a nod to the past, but a sharp break. I have released the name Andrew Blackwood MacBaine the Purple altogether, and I will absolutely be doing my best to not respond to anything but Andreas. (Or any of the regular epithets.)

This will also help -me- remember to be the person I am, and not the person I was.

I appreciate my friends helping me with this.

Thanks,
Andreas

Be Glad of It

This morning, looking for just the right words to wish a friend happy birthday, I stumbled across an old Hebrew saying that I’d forgotten about, but that my grandmother used to say:

“Zeh hayom asah Adonai, nagilah venism’cha vo.”

It means:  “This is the day that the L-rd has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Now, my grandparents were both lucky enough to escape what happened in Europe before and during WWII, but they (and thus I) had relatives who did not.  So when my grandmother said that, it had a certain weight to it.  Hopefully, none of us have the same direct experiences.

The holidays can be he difficult, stressful, exhilarating, and overpowering.  Winter is hard, toddlers are hard, work is hard, relationships are hard, being alone is hard (especially this time of year)…

Existence is hard.  Of course, it beats the other thing.

Whether or not you believe in a deity, whether or not you have a creation myth, take a few minutes out just to celebrate this day – any day, every day – simply because it exists, and so do we, and may we take comfort in knowing that there is a purpose to our life, either bestowed from on high or made of our own free will.

Rejoice, and be glad in it!

Letting Go

So for six weeks or so, I’ve had a post open in edit mode, two-thirds completed, about letting go.  About letting go of political arguments, about letting go of anger, about letting go of petty bullshit.

And it’s been sitting for six weeks because I haven’t been able to finish it.  The last line I’d written was “and I was ashamed,” and during breaks at work, I’d pull up the tab, and I’d look at it, and I’d sigh, and feel bad, and think about how I’ve tried to implement all of these changes in my life and in my demeanor and mutter to myself, “you shithead, Purple, you suck.”

All xkcd comics must have alt text.

My friend Tom would say “That’s the black dog talking.”  And he would be right.  I’ve let the black dog into my head.  I have a vast array of projects that I want to do, activities that I want to complete, goals that I have set, and I don’t feel like I’m making much progress.  My black dog is a little yappy thing, and it yapps, “not done! not done! you suck! you suck!” over and over and over again.

There I was.  Staring at the words “I was ashamed.”  Hearing the yappy dog.  And I said “heck with it,” and I selected all, and hit delete.  Boom, gone.

Because letting go isn’t just about forgiving other people,  It’s not just about letting anger go and letting pettiness go.  It’s about letting self-criticism go.  It’s about letting self-hate go.  It’s about forgiving yourself.

So that’s what I’m working on, this holiday season.  Progress on forgiving myself is the focus.  Progress on projects is gravy.  And in January, I’ll reset and start again.

And now I can hit publish.

Red Light, Green Light

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A friend of mine recently posted on facebook “we never remember the green lights.” She was talking about relationships and levels of unhappiness, but as I often do, I thought about how such a concept could be expanded to include other areas of life.

If you’re my friend, by now you know that I wear my heart on my sleeve.  That’s one of my few behavioral facets that hasn’t changed in the past few decades.  I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve.  I go with my gut, decide quickly, and rarely change direction once I’m committed.  That’s led to some massive mistakes in the past, which, compounded with disappointment and regret, often led to more mistakes.  I can’t tell you exactly why I did some of the things that I did — although I remember being utterly convinced that they were the right decisions at the time, I can never seem to remember why — but almost every time, I ended up staring at another red light.

Do Not Pass Go.

So how do you find the green lights?  How do you get out of the maze of red lights and stop signs and find your way?

Well, everyone has their own path. But I did two very specific things.  The first one is that I made a purposeful decision to change.  That change manifested itself in two actions.

The first action was to choose to be a better person.  I took a good long look at myself, and realized that the reasons I didn’t like myself were also the reasons why other people didn’t like me either.  So fixing that was win/win.  I had to think about how I reacted to people, and how those reactions looked from the outside.  I had to change the way I spoke, the way I held myself.  I even had to change how I volunteered for things.  I worked to be worthy of the accolades I already had, and the accolades I aspire to.

The second action was to choose to make a career change.  For over fifteen years, I toiled in the salt-mines of IT Technical Support, doing harder and more complicated work every day, without any additional recognition for it.  The final straw for me was when, after working several sixty hour weeks in a row and then running a seventy-two hour deployment, I was told that I couldn’t take comp time because it was against company policy, and for the extra hundreds of hours I’d worked, I got a bonus that, calculated very generously, came out to half a week’s pay. Before tax.  So I decided, right then, that I was going to change my career and change my life.  I paid for it myself, and nine months later, I had my PMP.  Less than nine months after that, I had a new job with a nice big raise and, more importantly, a wholly new corporate culture — one that, so far, values my contributions, cares about what I think, and compensates me reasonably for the work I do.

Guess what?  I still saw a bunch of red lights.  Things were better, but I still felt constrained.  And I sat and thought about that for a very long time until I finally figured it out.

Let me show you the hat of my people!

I can change myself.  I can better myself.  I can bend over backwards to do what I think people want me to do.  But I cannot change other people.  I cannot make them agree with me, and I cannot make them like me.

So perhaps that, then, was a third change; I changed myself to accept that I cannot change other people — and to forgive them for not being able to change.

Now, I don’t know if these changes or attempts to change will work for you.  I can tell you that my wife and I have been through the crucible and come out on the other side mostly unscathed, in large part because I’ve been able to do these things.

And when that happened, suddenly… all these lights turned green.

Except that’s not really true.  These green lights were there all along.  I just started being able to see them.  The lights didn’t change.  I did.

It’s all about will power.

The Days of Awe

Tonight is Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of Atonement, when all Jews are supposed to beg G-d for forgiveness for the sins committed in the past year. In between Rosh Hashanna which was nine days ago, and Yom Kippur, which starts tonight, G-d allows us to change the fates for us that G-d has written in the Book of Life before it is sealed for another year. This time is known as the Yom Adonai, the Days of Awe, and it is a window of opportunity a little bit like the rite of confession for Catholics, but in very Jewish fashion, the opportunity only comes once a year — and now it’s almost over!
As “not that kind of Jew” I’m going to turn this around a little bit, and, in concert with my Duck post from the other day (http://apapermuse.wordpress.com/2014/09/26/being-a-duck/) I’ll try to be forgiving of myself as well as begging forgiveness from G-d. I encourage you all do to so as well.
However, Yom Kippur is not about gaining forgiveness from others. That kind of atonement should be done before this day of atonement to G-d. So while I have a few hours left, I beg forgiveness and atone to:
Laura, for all the year’s small and large slights that every marriage contains and no marriage should
Karoline, for mis-communication
Ted and Emilysue for being probably more trouble than I’m worth
Max for not being good enough in the past and having to be stone-cold to make up for it now
My sister Meredith, and my mother and father for being unable to overcome my pride
Christina for being inattentive to your path
Cameron, Megan and Jesse for my lack of follow-through
Cadogan for my arrogance and disregard for proper behavior
And anyone else I have slighted, offended, or hurt. I should have done this earlier, which I shall have to atone for next year.
I have come to embrace the religion of my forefathers late in life, and I have done so unconventionally. I don’t think G-d will be upset with me for that, but I do believe that some ways are the best ways. I will fast from sundown tonight till sundown tomorrow (25 hours), and the discomfort will remind me of the discomfort I have caused others, and perhaps, in some small way, that will atone to them what I also atone to G-d.
So maybe I’m more “that kind of Jew” than I have been in the past. I’m ok with that.
May you be joyful in how you have been inscribed in the book of life!

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Nightmare Fuel, Day Three.

Here’s a new prompt for Nightmare Fuel from my friend Bliss Morgan.

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Usually the light in the corridor between the doors is turned off.  When I have the strength to crawl across the floor and then lever myself up on my crutches, and I look through the round window, all I can see is the glowing holes at the other end, baleful eyes glaring at me, casting murky patterns of shadow and light on the floor and walls between.

But tonight.  Tonight I can see the length of the space.  The light woke me up, and after panting my way up the wall and lurching around to lean against it, I look through the reinforced glass, and I can see everything.

Everything.

The floor is black, and flecked with grey speckles, and the walls are white.  The ceiling is tiled, fluorescents flickering in them, and they reflect off of the floor.  There’s a railing on the left side of the room, but wait, that’s not a railing, why would railing have chains looped through them?

On the right side are two beds.  One is empty.

The other is not.

I can see everything.

The empty bed is made, clean sheets, clean blanket, clean pillow and case.  The other bed is occupied.  All I can see is the top of their head.  It moves every so often.

I turn and put my ear to the window.  Yes.  I can hear muffled moans.

I turn back to look throught the window and knock on the door.  “Hello?” I call.  “Can you hear me?  I’ve been here a long time!”

No answer.  And as I raise my hand to knock again, the doors at the far end open.

Two people in lab coats walk in, carrying clipboards.  One stands over the person in the bed, performing all the usual medical tests.  Eyes, ears, throat, pulse… but wait.  That arm.  It’s missing.  The hand.  The doctor pulls up the other arm, also handless.  I stare through the window at the arm stumps, wrapped in white bandages, red stains at the very ends.

I can see everything.

Then the other doctor steps around and pulls a scalpel out of her pocket.  And with a quick slice.  Cuts off an ear.

The first doctor has turned away from me but then I see that he has cut off the other ear.  They wrap the occupant’s head with bandages, while the patient thrashes on the bed.  They give the patient a shot from a syringe, and the thrashing stops.

Then they go to the far doors and leave, but before they do, I can see that one doctor is chewing on the ear he holds.  Worrying it with his teeth, like a piece of jerky.

I pound on the door, shouting incoherently.  The female doctor glances up at me and nudges the other one.  He looks at me.  Tearing on the ear in his mouth.  He nods.  A promise.  To return.

Then they leave, and as they go, the lights in the corridor go out.  I can see is the glowing holes at the other end, baleful eyes glaring at me, casting murky patterns of shadow and light on the floor and walls between.

I close my eyes.  I sink to the floor.

I can see everything.

Nightmare Fuel, Day Two

My friend, Bliss Morgan, does a daily writing prompt on Google+ in October called “Nightmare Fuel”.  This is Day Two.

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Congratulations on purchasing your new Ocular Enhancer 3000 from TBM Industries!  In your shipment, you will find one (1) Ocular Enhancer 3000, one (1) Ocular Enhancer Storage Case, one VoxxStopper 99, and one (1) Ocular Adjuster 5.1.  Before you can use your Ocular Enhancer 3000, please follow these instructions:

 

  1. Place the Ocular Enhancer 3000 in its storage case.
  2. Remove the Ocular Adjuster 5.1 from its packaging.
  3. Remove the VoxxStopper 99 from its packaging.
  4. Appropriately place the VoxxStopper 99 in position, between the Maxial plates and down through the Esophagal tunnel.
  5. Keeping the Cranial Globe steady, position the Ocular Adjuster 5.1 before one of your two Ocular Organ.
  6. Slowly move the Ocular Adjuster 5.1 towards the Ocular Organ while turning the handle on the rear of the device.
  7. When Ocular Organ is properly adjusted, repeat with the other Ocular Organ.
  8. When both Ocular Organs have been properly adjusted, remove Ocular Enhancer 3000 from its storage case and install.
  9. Remove VoxxStopper 99 from Esophagal tunnel.
  10. Congratulations!  Welcome to life with your Ocular Enhancer!

 

Note: TBM Industries is not responsible for improper Ocular Adjustments or incorrect Ocular Enhancer installation, or improper use of the VoxxStopper 99.  If Ocular Adjustments do not occur properly, seek medical attention.  You may wish to have a friend hold your Cranial Globe while applying the Ocular Adjuster.  This device not regulated by the FDA, the AMA or any other agency.  Use at your own risk.  Oh my god, you’re blind.


Copyright © Three Blind Mice Industries.

Nightmare Fuel, Day One

My friend, Bliss Morgan, does a daily writing prompt on Google+ in October called “Nightmare Fuel”.  This is Day One.

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I’m happy to see you.  I don’t get to see people very often.  They don’t like to come here. It’s dark, and cold.  For them.  I can see fine, and I am not cold.

I’m glad you’re here.  I don’t get to talk to people much.  Everyone wants to talk over me, and I never get a word in edgewise.  My ears work, you know.  Why don’t yours?

I’m pleased with your visit.  Folks don’t usually stay long.  My furniture is damp and uncomfortable.  I like it, of course, but not everyone does.

I’m gratified you came.  I spend a lot of time alone.  And I’m so very, very hungry.

Being a Duck

A friend of mine came to me the other day and said “I don’t want to be angry today.” Now, anyone who knew me prior to, oh, maybe four years ago, they know that I used to be really, really good at being angry. I could get angry at all sorts of things. My wife. My kids. Perceived slights. The misdeeds of others. The misdeeds, especially, of myself. Oh, I was an expert at being angry with myself.

Full disclosure time: I struggled with being a good, attentive father with my first son. Anyone who knew be back then will be nodding. I was so out of touch with his mother, and with myself, and it was easy to lock myself away. I even went so far as to move away, to an entirely different state.

When I came back, two years later, I was a very different person. My walls had been shattered, my emotional center reborn, and my entire perspective of life changed. None of which I entirely knew, but I was, fundamentally, a different person on the inside. All I needed to do was learn how to effect that change on the outside.

Well, here’s the thing. I’ve gotten a lot less angry. But what I didn’t get was a lot less guilty. And so that didn’t really unburden me at all, it just shifted things. Being less angry was good for me. Being guilt-ridden wasn’t.

Guilt brings a different kind of burden than anger. Anger gets you going. It has a charge to it. It makes you jump out of your seat, shaking your fist, spittle flying. There’s a victory condition. But guilt has none of that. Guilt is depressing. It’s crushing. It’s a layer of dirt that coats everything that you can never quite get clean. It carries depression, self loathing, and desolation.

Now, I’m not going to suggest that it was easy to stop being angry. But I will suggest that, in general, it’s easier to stop doing something than it is to start doing something. It’s an effort to stop, but you hold your breath, and grab on to the railing, and… don’t take that step.

But to release the guilt, I had to start. Start forgiving myself.  That’s not as easy as starting to play a new computer game.  Or starting a new diet.  Or starting a new career. . Because before you can forgive yourself, you have to believe that you’re worthy of forgiveness.

It’s a long journey, self-forgiveness. It’s full of fits and starts, and a lot of giving up.  It’s taken many years, and more than a few pep talks from friends and confidants to get there.  But I can say that once it happens, it’s an amazing feeling of relief and peace.

So how does this all tie together?

Before you can stop being angry — really stop being angry — you need to forgive yourself for the anger.  It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to be upset.  It’s ok to be upset.  But you have to let it go.

I struggled to let go of my guilt.  I struggled to let go of my anger.  I struggled to let go of my fear.

They were all the same thing.

Now, I still get frustrated.  Traffic.  The kids.  Homework.  Work work.

My trick is to be a duck. Not the part about looking all serene on top and paddling like mad to stay afloat below.  No.  Be a duck as in “like water off a duck’s back.”

Take your anger, your guilt, and your fear.  Experience them.  Validate them.  And then release them.  Let them flow away.

Learn to let things go.  Be a duck.

One thing I’ve started doing in my ongoing quest to be a duck is I go to this site three or four times a day.  I sit and listen to the waves, and think about the things that bother me, and try to let them roll off my back like water.  I ease them into the ocean and watch them drift away.

I forgive myself my own trespasses, as I have trespassed against myself.

Not a single one of the peers who I respect and love and seek to emulate is a more-than-human person who never fails.  Every single one of them has made mistakes.  They have all offended people, they’ve all screwed up, they’ve all been angry at other people and themselves.  I know that they have all found ways to forgive themselves.  And so I seek to emulate them in this as I do in other things.

Be kind.

Be charitable.

Be forgiving.

Be a duck.

be worthy