Relatively Eventful Irvine Day no. 1

Returning to bass trombone after months of playing a wimpy F-attachment tenor is a euphoria as close to heaven as one can achieve here. Effortless low Ds and Cs, pedal tones that actually sound like something. I had the chance to experience this today for about 30 seconds and it could not have happened at a better time. Today's visit to NHS met moderate success; I would like to have watched Philharmonic rehearse a bit (I suppose the concert on Thursday will suffice), and we forgot to show Mamer the photos with us and Dennis Kucinich's wife. But these setbacks did not prevent all enjoyment - it was a nice kind of nostalgia today, a welcome escape from the bitter and unsympathetic variety that trips to Irvine often instill within me.

The usual trips to the reject racks of Ralph's and Albertson's followed, but sadly there were no amazing bargains to be exploited today.

Breakfast was Mimi's Café, where a waitress angrily spat, "Who got the Belgian waffles?!" I of course took several seconds to respond to this, confused because while I had indeed ordered Belgian waffles, I expected them to be served sans attitude.

Weather

Those merciless meteorologists are still attempting to convince me that it might rain today, that there might even be thunderstorms. But I've had enough of their backhanded trickery. I've been betrayed for the last time.

Club Sandwich and Shostakovich

I was going to attend the UCLA Symphonic Band's concert at noon today but ended up just going to lunch instead. Normally I would be feeling guilty about this, but today De Neve had the most amazing club sandwiches on thick bread, which I ate two of along with the remains' of my friends'. Another exciting development in the world of UCLA dining is that desserts are now labeled; finally we know (at least vaguely) what we stuff into ourselves twice daily. Time will tell if this is a permanent change and whether or not it is exclusive to De Neve. Today there was a dessert called "Chinese Chew," which I found to be a misnomer because there was nothing Chinese nor chewy about it. However I have no idea what I would call it myself; apparently the dining hall staff don't either.

Last night was my first concert as part of UCLA Symphony. The program included:
Mozart - Overture to Don Giovanni
Rheinberger - Concerto for Organ no. 2 in G minor
Shostakovich - Symphony no. 5

It was probably one of the most enjoyable performances I have ever given, deeply reminiscent of my first concert with the NHS Philharmonic and Tchaikovsky's 4th symphony in Fall 2004. Something about Shostakovich's 5th is immensely moving to me. It doesn't quite connect with me on the same personal level that Tchaikovsky's music does - but what it does do is create sympathy, perhaps because it is so difficult to imagine a more perfect way to capture the suffering of millions at the hands of Stalin than with this symphony. I suppose Shostakovich is more difficult for the modern audience to understand than someone like Tchaikovsky, with over-the-top crowd-pleasing lyricism beginning to die out and modernism setting in. Plus there were a few bumps and bruises in our performance, namely at the end of the allegretto, where a missed clarinet entrance nearly resulted in a trainwreck. Despite this I believe we succeeded in conveying the proper atmosphere. The largo in particular is just absurdly tense throughout; and our director did such a fantastic job conducting it and drawing us into the music that it seems impossible that a single person in the audience could have not felt it.

Stains and Schedule

These are surely the clearest possible indications that my TA was acutely focused when grading my essay:


Here is my tentative schedule for next quarter:

PHYSICS 1A - Physics for Scientists and Engineers: Mechanics
COMPTING 10A - Introduction to Programming
MATH 32B - Multivariable Calculus
FRNCH 2 - Elementary French

Rain

This morning it was raining, but I was unable to discern it from the poor vantage of our dorm window and consequently left the building wearing flip-flops. I lacked time to return and change them - I was already running late and had missed my chance to shave and to eat breakfast before calc - so I had to trudge for 30 minutes and back across soaked concrete paths, laden with puddles due to the hilly terrain, wearing Rainbows whose dye bled off onto my feet and yellowed them. Needless to say I splashed through enough water to wet my pant legs, which made walking even more uncomfortable. Most people's umbrellas meet me at approximately eye level, so walking in the rain generally entails several pokes to the eye or at least splashes to the face. Buttprints dotted the path down the Hill, solemn memorials to those lost playing Zero Traction on Slippery Slopes. Someone had apparently been separated from her chemistry notecards in the middle of De Neve Plaza, which were shriveling up in lament as I walked past. Despite all of this, I couldn't help but feel rejuvenated - something about rain, despite its inconveniences and melancholy symbolism, never fails to put me in a good mood.

I am a plant.

Finding Food

Yesterday we were walking to Ackerman in search of food. When we approached the locked-up Bruin bear, a woman was walking by with her husband and daughter, who appeared to be about 2 years old. The girl was crying and repeatedly bawling "Bruin bear! I want to see the Bruin bear!" Her mother attempted consolation: "The bear is sleeping. I promise he will be here next time." Which allows us to conclude: USC loves making children cry. What shameless schadenfreude.

Even though it was 1 PM and everybody was returning from their Thanksgiving breaks (presumably much more satisfying than mine), Sbarro was the only place open in Ackerman. So we got in line behind an old man who ordered a slice of mushroom pizza and sat down at one of the tables with a notebook. I didn't think much of it until I was passing by him to get some water and glanced over his shoulder. He was doing calculus - one of those Ph.D.-in-math kind of guys who spends his time thinking "Let's see if I can become famous this way." In other words, what I want to be when I grow up.

Actually, that's a lie - research in mathematics bores me to death. But that doesn't make sitting down alone in Ackerman with some mushroom pizza while doing calculus any less hardcore.

Other unrelated observations:

• The Ackerman hobo has changed her hair color. It is now bright red.
• Only athletes have the nerve to take the elevator to the second floor. How does that make any sense?
• The hallway of Hedrick Summit 7 SMELLS SO BADLY.
  

Thanksgiving Weekend

I missed our usual second Thanksgiving today because of the Oregon game. I turned on my phone after the football game and received a bunch of picture messages from my uncle. He photographed everything they ate. And I don't mean a picture of the dinner table, or the dishes filled with food - they were pictures of individual foods laid out on a napkin. Unfortunately they take up most of my phone's memory and I will probably have to delete them soon.