Morning Music - Richard Strauss, Ein Heldenleben

Osda sunalei. It's 10:15 am and this is Morning Music.

Richard Strauss was many things, but humble, often, was not one of them. His music quite often represented an idealised version of himself, or drew directly from adventures, such as mountain climbing, that he took part in. Today's piece is no different.

Ein Heldenleben (A Hero's Life), Op. 40 is a tone poem by Richard Strauss. The work was completed in 1898. It was his sixth work in the genre, and exceeded any of its predecessors in its orchestral demands. Generally agreed to be autobiographical in tone, despite contradictory statements on the matter by the composer, the work contains more than thirty quotations from Strauss's earlier works.

The German critics responded to Strauss's caricatures of them. One of them called the piece "as revolting a picture of this revolting man as one might ever encounter". Otto Floersheim wrote a damning review in the Musical Courier (April 19, 1899): "... alleged symphony ... revolutionary in every sense of the word. The climax of everything that is ugly, cacophonous, blatant and erratic, the most perverse music I ever heard in all my life, is reached in the chapter 'The Hero's Battlefield.' The man who wrote this outrageously hideous noise, no longer deserving of the word music, is either a lunatic, or he is rapidly approaching idiocy". The critic in The New York Times after the New York premiere in 1900 was more circumspect. He admitted that posterity might well mock his response to the piece, but that although "there are passages of true, glorious, overwhelming beauty ... one is often thrown into astonishment and confusion". Henry Wood, with whose orchestra Strauss gave the British premiere, thought the piece "wonderfully beautiful".

In modern times, the work still divides critical opinion. According to Bryan Gilliam in the Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, this is "mainly because its surface elements have been overemphasized." In Gilliam's view:

Various critics see the work as a flagrant instance of Strauss's artistic egotism, but a deeper interpretation reveals the issue of autobiography to be far more complex. Ein Heldenleben treats two important subjects familiar from earlier works: the Nietzschean struggle between the individual and his outer and inner worlds, and the profundity of domestic love.

The Symphonie-Orchestrer des Bayerischen Rundfunks is led by Conductor Mariss Jansons. Anton Barachovsky performs the violin solo.

(Historical information courtesy Wikipedia.)

Evening Music with Julie - Alan Hohvaness, Mysterious Mountain

Osda svhiyeyi.  It's 9:43 pm and this is Evening Music.

Alan Hovhaness (/hoʊˈvɑːnɪs/;[1] Armenian: Ալան Յովհաննէս, March 8, 1911 – June 21, 2000) was an American composer. He was one of the most prolific 20th-century composers, with his official catalog comprising 67 numbered symphonies (surviving manuscripts indicate over 70) and 434 opus numbers. However, the true tally is well over 500 surviving works since many opus numbers comprise two or more distinct works.

The Boston Globe music critic Richard Buell wrote: "Although he has been stereotyped as a self-consciously Armenian composer (rather as Ernest Bloch is seen as a Jewish composer), his output assimilates the music of many cultures. What may be most American about all of it is the way it turns its materials into a kind of exoticism. The atmosphere is hushed, reverential, mystical, nostalgic."

Symphony No. 2, Op. 132, Mysterious Mountain is a three-movement orchestral composition by the American composer Alan Hovhaness. The symphony was commissioned by conductor Leopold Stokowski and the Houston Symphony, and premiered live on NBC television in October 1955 on the Houston Symphony's first program with Stokowski as conductor. A popular recording of the work, released in 1958 with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra performing under Fritz Reiner, is often regarded as the foremost performance of the piece.

The composition blends elements of consonant Western hymns, pentatonicism, and polyphonicism reminiscent of Renaissance music. The second movement also contains a reworking of ideas from Hovhaness's 1936 String Quartet No. 1.

Contemporary critical reception to Mysterious Mountain was positive and it remains one of Hovhaness's most popular works. In 1995, Lawrence Johnson of the Chicago Tribune said the symphony "still amazes today" and that it "anticipated by nearly 40 years the spiritual, meditative quasi-minimalism of composers such as Part, Tavener and Gorecki." Edward Greenfield of Gramophone noted similarities in the piece to the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams and favorably commented, "'Mountains and symbols, like pyramids, of man's attempt to know God', says the composer, and his spiritual purpose is expressed in the modal writing of the Andante outer movements, with overtones of Vaughan Williams pastoral as well as of Tallis, framing a central fugue characteristically smooth in its lines. The finale, at the start sounding like 'Tallis Fantasia meets Parsifal', culminates in a chorale leading to a grandiose conclusion."

Despite the popular success of the symphony, Hovhaness expressed having "mixed feelings" about the piece after its completion. In a 1987 interview, he was quoted saying:

I remember hearing celestial ballet in my head as I lay down to rest from writing the work. Later I transcribed what I heard in my sleep. After I wrote it, then heard it again in my sleep, certain versions were wrong. So I corrected it. Now I cannot bear to hear it [...] it's just certain parts move me. I go out of the hall whenever the piece is performed.

Gerard Schwarz leads the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra.

Between the emotion And the response falls the Shadow - Life With Mental Illness

Everyone has their own story of what it is like to live with mental illness.  I won't pretend to speak for anyone else...not only would it be disingenuous of me, it would be insulting to everyone whose experiences are different than mine.

Here's an example.  Here's my example.  Here's me.

I'm Julie, and I have Major Depressive disorder, Generalised and Social Anxiety Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

I have 3 excellent days in a row.  One of them features me locking myself out of my car with the engine running...in the cold, but I don't care because I've just spent the afternoon with a dear friend from high school, my makeup was on point, and I felt really good about myself.  This is followed by a Monday where work sucked, but when I got home, a box was waiting for me with something to help me with one of the most visible things that causes me dysphoria.  So I try one on, nearly cry, and proceed to take a billion photos and share some, which leads to dozens of people complimenting me for seeing the real me finally.  I'm happy, beside myself, and yet I'm able to sleep very well.

Tuesday continues the good feelings, and my therapy session is excellent.  At the end, I even talk about how certain things from the past don't upset me as much anymore...and I notice the catch in my voice.  I'm sure she did too, but didn't say anything.  I go home, proceed to royally piss off my mum (she had perfect reason to be pissed at me), and make it through the night.  As I go to bed, I feel the signs coming on, but hope a good night's sleep will stop it.

Wednesday was a no go.  I knew as I was leaving for work how hard the day would be, and but for the grace of someone it was slow.  For the first time since I was prescribed it, I ended up having to take my Emergency Ativan (a bottle I carry with me with 6 MG of Ativan, depending on the strength of the panic or mood attack).  And I was still crying through it.  I made it through the day, got home, and curled up in bed.  I have very little recollection of yesterday, other than the fact that I posted stuff I thought was supportive of a friend without thinking about the fact that it wasn't really necessary in this case, which set me spiraling all over again, caused me to snap decide to delete all my posts on the thread so I didn't look like a thoughtless bitch, and at that point I was done with the world.  Took my trazodone and waited for sleep to carry me off, hoping it'd be dreamless.

Every day I wake up I have to figure out how I am so I know how my day will go.

Every day I have to carefully consider my words and my tone.  My tone mostly because I either speak without one to make sure only my words are heard, or because it's so quiet no one can be sure what I'm saying.  Sometimes it's better that way.

Every day I have to figure out how much social interaction I'll be able to handle...and often I find that it's less than I imagine.  And so I disappear, which makes people think I'm mad at them when really, I just can't handle people.

Every day I have to remind myself to accept compliments, because I don't.

Every day I have to remind myself that just because someone disagrees with me, that doesn't mean they are mad at me, or hate me, or are removing me from their lives.

Every day I have to remind myself that my friends like me for me, but because they feel obligated to or are friends out of pity.

I don't curl up in a little ball.

I don't rock back and forth.

I don't cut myself.

I don't have urges to self harm.

I do have urges to disappear so I can't bother or hurt anyone anymore.

I do worry that people will get tired of me and slowly divest themselves of me.

I have a massive amount of fears, some reasonable, some less than.

This is me.  This is what my friends and family have to deal with.  These are the things that, when I oversleep in the morning, cause my mum to come check on me to see if I'm OK...or if it's overly quiet in my room, if I'm not having problems.  This is what causes me to be afraid to talk to people I've known for years or more out of fear I'll say the wrong thing.

I fight this every day.

Even on the good days.

Especially on the good days.

If I'm not smiling, don't walk up to me and tell me I'll look better if I just smiled.  If I could smile I would...and really, telling me that will either cause me to start crying or punch you in the nose...or both.

Don't tell me other people have it harder.  And if I do decide to tell you what I have going on, please don't turn around and say 'Well, my sister in law just fell down a flight of stairs and broke her leg, and now...'  It's not that I don't care.  But I don't know your sister in law, you don't have her permission to tell stories about her, and this isn't a competition.  You may think my depression or PTSD isn't bad because you've seen me laughing...I think it's hell on earth.

Please...just be there for me.  If I'm non-verbal, remind me you're there.  Don't push.  Just be there...believe me, even in my darkest shadows, hearing someone calling out that they're there for me and looking for me means more than you can possibly ever know.

Thought for the day

Evening Music with Julie - Rautavaara, Harp Concerto

Osda svhiyeyi, sidanelvhi.  It's 9:49 pm and time for Evening music.

Written in 2001, the Harp concerto is one of several popular chamber works for solo instrument and orchestra written by Rautavaara over a forty year period.

The Harp Concerto is, in its way, even more extraordinary. Good music for the harp doesn’t exactly grow on trees, and it would be small compliment to say that of all concertos for harp and orchestra, this one is the finest (Ginastera’s notwithstanding). Still, I can’t imagine anyone listening to this lovely, atmospheric work and not coming to that conclusion after the first two minutes. To write a substantial piece that positively revels in the unique sonic capabilities of the solo instrument, and that never sounds cheap or merely a collection of “special effects”, requires an unusual mastery of compositional technique and a rare concentration of purpose. Not the least of the concerto’s attractions is the presence of two harps in the orchestra as well, which support the soloist in tutti passages and provide for a thrilling wash of sound at climaxes.

The darkly uncompromising ending, with its tolling bells, harp glissandos, and timpani strokes, places the concerto squarely in the line of Rautavaara’s major works and demonstrates conclusively that the purely technical challenges of composition in no way preclude emotional depth or expressive urgency. The performance here makes the strongest possible case for this masterpiece, which deserves the widest possible circulation in concert.

Ondine’s Rautavaara series has revealed to music lovers one marvelous work after another, and with each new release Rautavaara’s stature as one of the greatest composers working today only increases. It’s hard to think of another figure whose every new piece so rewards the attentive listener while at the same time uncompromisingly proclaims the author’s unique musical voice. If you haven’t had the chance to get to know the music of this exceptional creative spirit, the present release, magnificently performed and recorded, offers an ideal place to start.

Dodadagohvi, osda svnoi, sidanelvhi. Gvgeyui <3

Ayv gvgeyui, adageyudi adanvdo <3 <3 <3

Poem 29 July 2015 - Under Water Fall

down
down
down
down
under waterfall
the river spirits danced and played
and heeded sky father's call.
the river has secrets to speak
if you have ears to hear.
close.
come closer.
can you hear them?
ancient words,
words of wisdom,
words of truth.
listen to the tales of the old times,
the time of wolf and bear,
of earth mother bestowing her gifts
on those wise enough to listen.
listen now to a new tale.
a tale of sorrow,
of men fighting men,
of blood sinking deep into the earth
from whence it first sprung.
close your eyes and see,
see the forests ravaged,
see the flowers bent with tears.
the squirrel and rabbit,
the pheasant and the quail,
once so plentiful,
now gone.
the spirits are gone now too,
hidden deep and deeper still
lost to time
and the few who remember
and speak the words.





Julie Knispel
29 July 2015

Today's weather: cloudy with a chance of rain

It's hard waking up and not knowing exactly where you are going to be standing emotionally.

For those not keeping score at home, I've been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, General and Social Anxiety Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  Some days can be very very good.  Other days can be...not quite so good.  It's not cyclical...I can't tell you that on Friday I'll be ok, Saturday I'll be down, and Sunday I'll be in bed.  It just happens.  I can have three days in a row where everything is awesome, like Sunday, where despite getting locked out of my car I got to spend a wonderful afternoon with my friend Sara, which always results in dialogue like this:

Sara's dad: What was that?
Sara: Well dad, when a boy fox and a girl fox like each other very much, the boy fox gives the girl fox a special hug.
Sara's Dad: Well, the boy fox and the girl fox need to find a special room.

It also resulted in 2 bags of clothes, which are going to be awesome in a few pounds.

Monday carried on the theme, as I got something to assist me with one of the major sources of visual Dysphoria I've been fighting.  And when I say it helped, I mean it.  I went from happy the box arrived to giddy and nearly crying in the mirror.  Tuesday carried this on, straight through therapy, and on to home.

And Tuesday night is when I started feeling the slippage.

It might have been the music...I was listening to something I haven't listened to in close to 20 years which has massive emotional resonance for me.  Maybe it's the fact that despite me feeling I'm over certain things, I'm not over them as much as I thought I was, which led to choking up in therapy.  Maybe it's the meds not doing what I need them to.  I don't know.

What I do know is for the first time since I started taking my meds, I hit my bottle of Emergency Ativan, and it's probably what's getting me through the day.

You don't see, or feel.  You don't see what's going on in my brain.  You don't feel the tumultuous maelstrom in my heart.  You don't feel my fear, my panic, my terror.  You see me walking through the store, and I look normal (maybe my head is shifting from side to side a lot because I'm in fight or flight already), and you want to walk up to me and tell me to smile.

Don't you think I'd be smiling if I could at that moment?

Do you think I need your reminder that I'm not?

Do you think I need to hear 'Oh come on, it's not that bad?'

Or 'God only gives us what we need?'

Bullshit on that one.  I don't need phase 3 intermediate diffuse large cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.  I don't need to have 2 heart attacks.  I don't need a sclerotic right SI joint.  I don't need depression from the earliest I can remember, ulcers at 12 and 13, wondering why my hair wasn't growing when I was a teen and why I had things that didn't belong to me.

God didn't give me this.  Sorry, but you're wrong.

Genetics gave me this, which is not to blame my mother or father.  I've put them through hell raising me, and they're now starting to understand and accept the child they raised is a bit more special than they expected.

I'm a difficult person to get close to...but if I let you in, it's because I think you're special, and you find me special and important too.    It takes time...a lot of time, something...and it hurts when I feel it slip away.