When I Can't Sleep, I Blog

I'm breaking all the cardinal-rules of trying to go to sleep: eating, listening to rock music (U2, to be more specific), and looking at a bright screen.

This whole Amy-not-going-to-bed-until-at-least-two started last week. I came home from a jam, and I was so excited, I just couldn't sleep. I slept great the following night, but then my pattern was messed up after being out until two in the morning Friday and not going to bed until three in the morning Saturday. I'm not sure I like it. I like to sleep.

I recently realized several things causing my insomnia:

1. Running. I'm not running. Exercise definitely helps you sleep, at least running helps me. I haven't gone for a run in a while. A long, long while. Blame it on my schedule, but it's my own fault. I'm not exhausting myself the way I should be in order to sleep the way I want to.

2. Midterms. I've been thinking so much about midterms that they could easily be keeping me up at night. I have one tomorrow, I mean today. It's Ear Training Part One: Dictation. I am horrific at dictation. Give me a guitar, I'll play you back the melody after listening to it once, maybe twice. Make me write it down, it's torture. This time I was smart: I scheduled a tutoring session right before my exam. I'm gonna walk in, and have my tutor play me Lydian and Mixolydian melodies for an hour. I can't think of a better way to prepare for it. Why didn't I think of this before? Paul Stiller used to (he still might) have dictation classes for Ear Training 1 and 2 on Wednesdays at 4. I went to as many as I could, and on my final dictation I got a B+. Practice makes perfect, it's just hard to practice dictation.

My other midterm I'm concerned about is Sound Reinforcement. I'm not so worried now. We reviewed in class today. As long as I do some prep work, I'll be fine.

3. Other things. I have so many little things to do. My lists are everywhere and unaccomplished, which is so unlike me. I have to get back on track. Not that I'm derailed, but my wheels are coming a little loose. Not in every area. Usually my guitar chops get lost in the shuffle (oddly enough) when I'm at school, but I've been spending a lot of time playing. Which is great. I didn't play nearly enough my first two semesters.

I've been thinking too much lately about everything. I think I'm thinking about sleeping too much.

I'm listening to U2's Zooropa, and I feel like it's December of 2008 during finals week because this album was my soundtrack. My mom called me sometime that week, probably that Tuesday, to tell me that she never bought the plane tickets to fly to DC for my cousin's wedding, but it ended up being the best mistake she ever made. A massive blizzard was headed for Boston the day we were supposed to fly. We would have missed our flight. Having never bought the tickets, we got a last-minute deal to fly out on Thursday and we ended up staying at the Willard and eating at Old Ebbit's Grill that night. It's amazing how I associate all that with Zooropa. And the Devil Wears Prada. I watched that movie eight times that week I think. I would put it on whenever I could. Ask my old roommate. Throughout November and December it was on all the time.

I could go on for a while now, but I need to stop myself and try and sleep.

Thank you for reading my late-night ramblings. I hope there are fewer of them.

Six of Ten: Bob Thompson

My graduation party. June 2008

Anyone that knows me more than to just say hello to knows who Bob is. For those of you that read this and don't know who Bob is, you're about to find out. I was going to save him for the last influence post, but after having dinner with him yesterday, I can't wait that long.

Bob is my favorite person in the world. He's my second-dad, my guitar teacher, my go-to guy to talk about anything with. He's the greatest. I adore that man like you wouldn't believe. Let's put it this way: my mom once said, "If Bob told you to jump off a bridge, you would." I replied, "...Yeah, but Bob would never tell me to jump off a bridge so we don't have to worry about that." I told that to him yesterday over our every-six-weeks-or-so-catch-up-dinner-now-that-I'm-back-in-school dinner. He laughed, and he agreed because he knows it's true.

I met Bob through a mutual friend/guitar player when I was sixteen. I had just finished up lessons with my former teacher Tom. At my last lesson with Tom, he said, "I've taught you everything I can teach you. You gotta go to Bob." Mark (mutual friend/guitar player) was very adamant about me taking lessons with Bob. So I emailed him, told him my shpeel (Berklee, pop/rock/blues lover, Eric Clapton freak, etc...), and shortly after that I began taking lessons with Bob. I had no idea how much impact that one email would have on me.

My first lesson was sometime in May of 2007. I had never met Bob before, I'd only emailed him a few times. The second I walked into his house, it was an instantaneous friendship. A typical guitar lesson is an hour long. My first lesson with Bob was two. My second lesson was three. My third lesson was four. You get the idea. I think the longest lesson I've ever had was six hours. It was a lesson, a clinic, and just some hang time with Bob. It was almost like we'd known each other forever and we were (I should say are) making up for lost time. My friends kind of hated my lessons during the summer because I'd be gone from 4.15 to at least 9.00. Often times I wouldn't pull into my driveway until 10.

Now the entire time wasn't spent playing. Bob and I like to talk a lot. A lot. We talk about everything. It's one of the best and it's probably the most natural friendship I've ever had with anyone. I trust him one hundred percent, which is why I can tell him anything. Not only do we talk a lot, we laugh a lot. Just last night, I set him up perfectly for a joke. It was great. I make fun of him, he makes fun of me. It's all good. He tries to get my going, and sometimes I let him because it's all in good fun.

When I left for school last year, I didn't cry when I said goodbye (temporarily, of course) to anyone. Except for when I said goodbye to Bob. It was heart-wrenching. I get sad just thinking about it. I was sad again when I said goodbye to him in August. It was a different kind of sad, but nonetheless, I was not happy, and it was not easy. I kept prolonging leaving. He could tell, and he didn't try to stop me. I would often play that game with him even in lessons. I love spending time with him. There'd be a lull, I'd quickly glance at the clock, and it would be way too early to call it a night (often times this would be about two and a half hours into a lesson). So I'd ask a question, or say something and we'd start right up again. To this day I still do this with people.

Anyway, back to Bob. Before I met Bob, my friends would ask me what I did with my life before guitar came into the picture. I don't know, really. I did what everyone else did, and I still do, only now guitar takes up much more of my free time. Now my friends ask me who did I have before Bob. And honestly, I don't know. To think about not knowing Bob is very strange to me. He fit right into my life instantly. I can't imagine him not being there. I survived sixteen years without him. It's funny how that happens.

When I would go on vacation, no matter how much fun I was having, part of me couldn't wait to get back home and have a lesson/hang with Bob. We'd play, we'd eat, we'd talk, we'd play, and he became such a part of my routine. He still is. My lessons (up until this summer) were on Mondays. Most kids hate Monday because it's the start of the school week. I loved Mondays (I still do) because it meant that two hours after I got home from high school that I would get ready for my weekly God-knows-how-long lesson.

I've grown exponentially as a musician thanks to Bob. Everything about my skills as a musician are better thanks to him. I don't think I'd be at Berklee if it weren't for him. He (and others) say(s) otherwise, but I don't.

Yesterday my mom said (in reference to me enjoying coming home once in a while), "She gets to see all the people she loves, her mother, her father, her sister, her friends, Bob, and she gets to play her guitar...Let me put that in the correct order: she loves BOB, her guitar, her mother, her father, her sister, and her friends. She won't deny it, either. And we know it's true." It is. For example, I went home for a long weekend in February not to see my parents, but to go out to dinner with Bob.

I would not be the same person had I not met Bob. I can't think of anyone that has had so much of an impact on me so fast. He's one of the greatest people I have ever met, and the person (with the exception of a few high school friends that aren't in Boston) I by far miss the most when I'm not in Maine.

Clearly, I could go on for hours about Bob. I miss him big time when I'm here at Berklee. As much as I love it here, I often catch myself counting down the days (46 or 47) until I get to see Bob again.

What do I do now? I just get lost in my college life, which I love almost as much as Bob.

The Subject Box Looked Naked Empty

I've been working on Ear Training for probably three hours or so now. I think that qualifies for a break.

I hate it, but I'm determined to get an A. So therefore I will continue to solfege the life out of me. I got a B on the first recitation. I have three more, and I have to get A's on them all. I also had my first dictation exam yesterday. I'm not sure how I did on it. They're hard to study for. The one thing I must say I like better about my dictation exams this year is that the rhythm and the melodies are separate. Instead of having to hear dotted-eighth notes and sixteenth rests, I only have to watch for quarter notes and half notes. That's nice.

Enough about Ear Training, I'll be going back to it after this.

I can't believe it's Tuesday. I am so confused on my days. That's what epic weekends in New York and New Jersey do to you. Now I'm all lost, and it's only going to get worse because I'm going home this weekend. I have a wedding to go to. It should be a lot of fun. Monday's a holiday (Columbus Day. Yes, we here in New England celebrate it--be jealous), which means Tuesday becomes Monday here at Berklee. It's confusing for everyone, and my entire internal calendar will be thrown off for probably the rest of the semester. Between this past weekend, next weekend, Halloween, possibly a trip to New York the first weekend of November, the Business Club trip to New York November 11th-14th, and Thanksgiving, I think all hope is gone. It's not necessarily a bad thing, I just have to pay a lot more attention.

I had a great meeting with Peter Spellman today. He's the head of Berklee's Career Development Center (CDC). The CDC is probably the most underutilized (is that a word?) resource at Berklee. It's also one of the greatest. Located on the 6th floor of the Uchida Building, it's a bit off the beaten path, but makes for a great place to get away without really going away. Peter and I talked about everything from my future to baseball to how attractive Tom Brady is. I had been meaning to go for a while now, but I just didn't. Now I'm going to stop by every week for an hour or so because it's a resource I need to use more.

Great things are going to be happening in the next few months. I'll be sure to tell you all about it either here or on my tumblog. All the posts from here go there (as I mentioned in a previous post), so either one works. I'm not quite sure why I have both, but I like them. So I guess that's why I've got two.

Anyway, as much as I don't want to, I should get back to Ear Training. That test ain't gonna do itself! Sadly...