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.