Music Database

While refining my new "CD collection catalogue" this weekend, it suddenly occurred to me what a "nerdy" thing it was of me in the first place to put together a database for the classical music I have on CDs. However, may I say to my excuse that when your CD collection measures hundreds of titles (actually, just under 500 classical CDs), such a catalogue can be really handy.

This has been in the works though since soon after I started collecting compact discs in the beginning of the ‘90s. First as scribblings on a piece of paper, then as several pages of systematical CD descriptions in a notebook, then as an impressive Excel file documenting the contents of the biggest part of my CDs as they came, and finally exported to MSAccess and trimmed into (almost) normalised tables.

With this up and running I will be able to tell you in a whim which composers I collect the most, of which pieces I have most versions, whether I seem to be more into orchestral or chamber music, from which periods my music is … And best of all, if something happens to my collection, it may be possible to partly replace it, and I will know the approximative value of it should I wish to be indemnized by my insurance company. Pooh, what a relief!

Papers Arrive, Finally

Believe it or not, I finally got the papers from France I asked for. But this was after they told me

• to talk to somebody else (about 8 times)
  
• that I should come in person during office hours (to which I had to reply no, being 3000 km and an ocean away)
  
• that to find information would take a VERY long time (which it did: nine weeks to talk about how long it would take, one afternoon for them to finally do it)
  
• that this would be way too expensive (whatever that means: is that "way to expensive for them" or "way to expensive for me" ?)
  
• that I had to write them an official letter with international return stamps before they could even consider my request (which I did, only to have them return me that letter in the mail 4 weeks later without the documents I asked for in the said letter ...)
  
• that they didn't have this information (about 12 times)
  
• that they didn't know where to find this information (about 3 times)
  
• that they never got this information
  
• that they hadn't kept this information on file
  
• that they didn't give out this kind of information
  
• that they had nothing to do with this sort of information (about 3 times)
  
• that they did not provide this kind of service to former students (about six times)
  
• that they didn't and had never done this sort of thing and that they didn't care if the same office at other universities did and that it was outrageous of me to even assume that they would do it
  
• that I should write them an e-mail (I wrote about 8, only to find out that in French administration e-mail is neither read nor replied to)
  
• that this was not possible (about 16 times)

When I finally got the papers, I received nothing less than three exemplaries, from two different sources. And amazingly enough, exactly the information I had been solliciting all along (which they swore they didn't have) copied, signed and stamped by them (even if they obviously couldn't do it). Let me remind you that what I was asking for was transcripts of my grades from the university. I had never managed to get them while I was a student and living in France because French universities don't automatically grant you this, unless a third party requests it. One would think they feared the education system would collapse if students were allowed to receive knowledge or proof of their performance. But anyway, I now am at a point where a third party is indeed requesting my (until now under disclosure) transcripts.

The disappointing part of this story is that after all my sweating to be polite, amiable, presentable, use the right courtesy addresses and spell out everything in good French, nothing happened until I lost my temper, yelled back at the clerks on the phone, swore and insulted them, asked them what nonsense they were telling me, told them how incapable they were and how much I regretted ever having laid foot on their soil. Like I said, three days later, the required documents came to me with the mail!

So much for my faith in the old, proper values of the Europeans. In fact, as it happens, there’s nothing like being abusive. Apparently, rudeness works wonders …

A Person Gone

One more down. An uncle just died. Quite unexpectedly, although he suffered a fall recently. But who would have thought a broken hip was automatically the next stop before terminus?

And you get this huge feeling of insecurity. What is life, anyway? Including your own? A breath, a suspense, an idea?

One tends to consider the people one is surrounded with as a natural backdrop. And they sort of are there when you need them; it’s comforting and calming to know that you’re not alone in this world. On the contrary, you are part of this intricate web of lifes and personalities. But then people drop from the scene, and you understand that the different parts of the décor all have its lifespan and that the only one to rely on should be yourself. As long as you can.

It’s angering, frustrating and scary.

A person’s gone. That person may have been part of your surroundings as long as you can remember. A fixed reference in your universe. And nonetheless even when you didn’t see that person on a regular basis. An integrated part of the scene you were born into and you carry each others stories and memories in this life. Until someone disappears from the scene and leaves a gap, questions without answers, unreturned feelings and a shattered identity.

And it hurts. Each time somebody goes away. Each time to a different degree, but it hurts.

A Visa in the Hand is Better than Six in the Mail ...

I am now holding my definite "permanent resident" visa. It feels like the end of a long journey, but was finally fairly painless. I stumbled mostly upon mental hurdles on the way, like when

• having my fingerprints taken,
  
• handing in C’s tax returns,
  
• undergoing vaccinations for children’s diseases I already had and was not likely to encounter again,
  
• going through a thorough medical exam where I was X-rayed and tested for all thinkable and unthinkable STDs,
  
• having my medical records (that I previously assumed confidential) scrutinised,
  
• being cross-examined on my private life,
  
• applying for police certificates from every town I have resided in,
  
• putting toghether a list of all employers I have had in my life (and quite a few at that) and all schools attended.

And finally: swearing to all sorts of things, including never having enlisted in a non-capitalistic political party.

But still, like I said, was actually reasonably painless.

Concert - Movie => Impressions

Two events touched me particularly last week and I would have blogged about them if only I hadn’t been submerged in work since then: I was to hear Prokofiev's 2nd violin concerto in concert (for the 3rd time, as far as I can remember) and I finally saw “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” on DVD. Both of those left me pondering quite a bit.

If I start with the ESOTSM, it’s basically by far the best movie I’ve seen in a while. Completely mesmerizing and so challenging that it sets your mind on a whole journey. I’ve actually been having the wildest dreams since I saw it, that’s how constantly it is working my brain. It’s an essay on love, relationships and communicating, memories. And anyone who’s had his heart broken once or twice can relate to it. Actually, I was almost tempted to call up some past lover to say: “You see?! You see?!” So, very satisfying, and it’s still working me, I tell you. Also among the most beautiful love stories I have ever seen.

Now, the concert was highly enjoyable too. Coupled with the Prokofiev were a Haydn symphony and Shostakovich symphony. Quite an odd pairing actually, because I would say Haydn and Shostakovich were a world apart. But it somewhat worked. This Haydn symphony, the number 6 – “Morning”, is fairly subtle and understated, not purely one of those “happy, happy” symphonies, rather “content and poised”. It has some gorgeous solo parts which – although I didn’t quite relate to some of the leading violinist’s playing (Haydn’s supposed to be jolly and relaxed, not neurotic and strained, which is what too much vibrato conferred) – really set me in the mood for the rest.

The rest being the two Russians: the Prokofiev lyrical, mystifying, carnal, tense, voluptuous, fiery, passionate, fervent, twisted – I love it; the Shostakovich humorous, piercing, sarcastic, bombastic, abrasive, neurotic, self-destroying – love it too. The violinist did a remarkable job with the concerto, the instrument she was playing having received far more publicity before the concert than her (she was playing a Stradiviarius nicknamed “The Dolphin” , formerly owned by Jascha Heifetz). Japanese Akiko Suwanai executed the technical parts of the concerto extremely skillfully and effortlessly, gave it a nice rough edge (just like it should be) but let the lyrical bits sing. If anything, the concert hall probably drowned her at moments, most unfortunately. It was kind of interesting that she should be playing the same violin as Heifetz, his recordings of Prokofiev probably being among the best ones around. I myself would love to get a new recording of this, with a soloist from the younger generation, but I have mixed feelings about where to look. While I definitely think this concerto should have a rough edge, I think a performer like Maxim Vengerov might actually be too virile to do it justice …

Optimism vs. Pessimism

My husband is an irredeemable optimist (for which I am very thankful, by the way), while I myself … well, if I am reluctant of calling myself a pessimist, I am still a firm disbeliever and sometimes annoyingly incredulous or skeptical. So, where he believes – I doubt. But we do make a good team. He makes me attempt things I wouldn’t otherwise try, the odds of success being in my opinion low. And I often make him think twice before investing in some projects or things that might seem rash. He sees the possibilities; I see the catch. When it comes to people, he is open and friendly; I am reserved and aloof. He inceptively assumes people are out there to help him; I would tend to assume they were there to put obstacles in my way or to profit from me in some way. He tends to believe everything they tell him; I tend to question everything.

I don’t know if all this has something to do with him being schooled in the United States and me having done my studies in France, but I wonder if it might not.

We each have our ways of succeeding, but I sometimes wish I had a bit more of his mindset and that he had a bit more of mine. Best would be to consult each other as much as possible, that way we definitely get a two-sided view of things.

In Somebody Else's Skin

I note that among the books I have read recently there's a good proportion of novels taking place in different cultures. There is the Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden (the meticulous account of a poor japanese fisherman’s daughter growing up to become a geisha in the Gion quarter of Kyoto in the 1930s) , The Bookseller of Kabul by Åsne Seierstad (vivid description of an Afghani middle class family in the Afghanistan of today), Falling Leaves by ADELINE YEN MAH (a somewhat self-indulgent memoir of an "unwanted Chinese daughter"), The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho (an Andalusian shepherd’s fabulous journey through Arabic country in search of a treasure; or his soul?), Life of Pi by Yann Martell (the incredible drift of Pi Patel from Pondicherry, India, in a lifeboat … in the Pacific Ocean … with a tiger). After travelling to Asia, three times in a row, that area of the world holds some fascination for me. Still, as for living there, well, that’s a completely different story, but perhaps best lived through the romanesque pages of a good book …

Arctic Chill

I was going to talk about my New Year’s trip out of town, then thought a photo would say everything. But, yes, it was dark, it was cold (-17°C – and hey, forget about the lavatories) and on one of the nights it was so cold that it took 50 minutes to grill a piece of meat on the coals outside. But thanks to that, the stars and the northern lights came out even better than I expected. And it was bright and still, except for the day of our arrival up in the mountains when it snowed. And the snow was so deep that each time we did two hours of walking, it probably amounted to six, in exercise. So, remind me to do this again some time …

Are Vans For Child Molesters ?

It’s been raining a lot in California, something true Californians don’t find very uplifting, but some manage to see the bright side of things. And maybe the region can do with a little rain.

Last night my spouse said: "I will have to upgrade to a 4 wheel drive, so that we can make a trip up to the desert to see the flowers bloom, early spring when the tracks are all muddy still." All good, I thought, but why was it then that he didn’t buy a 4-wheel drive in the first place, when he bought the truck last year. I mean, what is the point of having a jeep if it doesn’t even have 4-wheel drive, let alone front wheel drive? That is, aside from having a bigger car than the neighbour? “Well, you need a truck for bulky items”, he said, continuing to exasperate me. “Then, maybe you should buy a van, for your bulky items?” “Oh, no, vans are for child molesters and group rapists”, my loved one said ...

A Good Job

I must say that my workplace is quite first-rate. I have worked before in a company where they made you think they cared about the employees, but THIS time I am actually tempted to believe it. First of all, the boss is great. And that’s a lot better than having a boss who’s an asshole! The boss is smart, polite and considerate, and he’s very concerned about having a good atmosphere in the workplace. He doesn’t even have his own office, but shares the open space with his assistants; that’s how he demonstrates that everybody can come talk to him about everything. He takes lunch with us; something my former boss (actually the whole management department) would never consider doing, i.e. dining with common people. Overall, my colleagues here are great; again they’re on average smart, cultured, cheerful and have a healthy disposition. Social activites abound. Benefits are substantial, ranging from hot meals at work, fitness programs, flexible hours and home-based working, seminars and classes to insurances, pension plans and bonuses. And last but not least: a fair remuneration.

The things I value the most at work are:
. The chance to learn something new at my job and to have challenging assignments.
. Good colleagues that I enjoy spending time with, including my boss.
. Flexible hours, limited overtime and possibility to take summer vacation.
. Decent salary.
. Nice workplace and good facilities.

Things I don't care about are:
. Hierarchies and advancement.
. Prestige, notoriety, status.
. Stock options (even though I have made a profit on those)
. Work related travel and social events or cocktails.
. Secrecy and concealment (but then I don't mean I can't work with confidentiality).