A baroque band, a departure, a lot of questions.

Last night we saw Apollo's Fire, a period-instrument ensemble based out of Cleveland. They were truly incredible. They performed three of the six Brandenburg Concertos and also the Bach Concerto for Two Violins. When they walked onstage, tuned, began to play -- it was like watching a rock band. Indeed, one of the violin soloists sort of had the same set of facial expressions as Mick Jagger. Or something like that. He might as well have been wailing on an electric guitar playing Hendrix, not a Baroque violin playing Bach. As I watched them, many thoughts came to my mind: mostly, that there are infinite musical arenas to expore, even if one only played the violin for the rest of one's life. There is Baroque, bluegrass, Celtic of all kinds. Rock, folk, jazz. Contemporary techniques. Never mind all this stuff about songwriting and jazz voice and classical voice; and REALLY never mind about English literature and economic justice. The world is huge and there is so much to know. It honestly made me want to pursue a Master's degree in music, just so I could continue to try to absorb all the musical stuff that I possibly can. But who knows how long that will last.

I have only three more days here, including today -- I take off early Saturday morning. Suddenly as I walked to this library to check my email and update my blog, I became sentimental. I looked at the mountains and realized that they will not follow me where I'm going. There is probably a whole world of things here that I don't even know I will miss. That's scary. What impact has this place truly had on me? Ms. Heard smiled and said, "You'll know -- maybe in January you'll know." Until then, the whirlwind of constant change and the super fast passage of time are pretty incredible.

I don't really want any lingering goodbyes or questions about the future of these friendships we've made here. I want to return to my Nashville home and throw myself into creating some awesome opportunities for myself. But I will miss them: K.Z., B.S. especially.

Next post will probably be from Vanderbilt, where priorities are sure to be different.

One month later ...

I've been terrible about blogging, but it feels good to have this empty space in which to talk a little about what's been happening here in Aspen.

I'm back in the Aspen Festival Orchestra after a three-week hiatus (in which I spent a week in the Conducting Academy orchestra, and performed in Ned Rorem's new opera, Our Town). James Conlon is conducting Shostakovich 8 and Britten's Serenade for Tenor, Horn and Strings. Both are wonderful pieces, but the Shosty is kicking the asses of the first violin section. I forgot how incredibly difficult and distressing it is to try to learn an entire concert program in four days. That's the standard for a professional orchestra, I guess, but I've got to admit, I'm really not at that level yet. I find myself trying to calm down emotionally, because I feel so overwhelmed by the difficult passages and the ensemble challenges. Intense!! Anyway, Conlon has a fabulous rehearsal technique -- he's able to make us feel competent and confident, and he gives us the tools to succeed. His stick technique isn't the clearest thing in the world, but ... we shall overcome.

After tomorrow's concert, I'm free of orchestra assignments for the rest of the festival - thank goodness. My left arm's been in a bit of pain lately, so I need to play it conservative. Also, I'll have some time to focus on my movements of solo repertoire, which are just shy of being solidly learned for the fall semester. "Sometimes I just don't think it's getting better," I told my teacher. "It is," she replied. She doesn't usually let me dwell on too much evaluation; she'd rather have me work steadily and diligently and not look back, or too far forward.

I'm really, really looking forward to going back to Nashville. Two weeks from yesterday, my friend Kellen and I will drive away to Denver, and I'll fly out the next morning. Ah yes -- my friends. They've become a wonderful part of the fabric of my life here, and I know I'm going to miss them. Kellen, Andy, Brightin especially. Many others, too. My sense of the passage of time is pretty warped. Have we been here forever? no time at all? How long have I known these people, and how long will it be before I see them again?

There's not too much nostalgia yet, for there are many things I'd like to stop doing: taking the crowded bus to concerts and rehearsals, eating 3 meals a day in a cafeteria. I can't wait to cook a meal at Convent Place, ride my newly fixed bike, buy books for classes, and - yes - take a break from practicing. But surely living here for more than 2 months has made its imprint.