Well done, me?

Right, as of today: three exams down, two to go (both of them tomorrow, great...) and I'm ready to strangle some people. Some teachers, that is. Just now, one especially. Which is kind of paradox, being a teacher myself. Or maybe it isn't.
See, today was the written exam in music theory - you know, the stuff that's really going to save the day when I'll be teaching my ghetto kids, like how to avoid quint and octave parallels when composing a choral for four voices, that kind of thing. The class is held by this young Russian woman, and the style and speed with which she teaches is somewhat Russian too, if you get my drift. She assigns more homework than all my other courses put together and still I was by no means sure that I'd pass this bloody exam today. (Having failed the mock exam quite spectacularly.) In fact, I had already half made arrangements to repeat the course with another teacher next term, so I was over the moon to see that it went alright after all. I could do all the tasks and even had enough time for the extra tricky bit since I finished another task earlier than the others.
This afternoon before heading home I went in to see the teacher, because she always corrects the tests straight away.
And you see, I did really well. I mean, they don't give grades in these exams (you either pass or, well, not), but it would certainly have been a B+, because there were only three minor mistakes in the whole test.
But instead of saying "Ah, there you go, I knew you could do it. Just these three little hiccups over here, but apart from that: fine!", she actually gave me this sermon on how she thought I could do better, how she'd always thought I wasn't giving 100%, how these stupid, little mistakes annoy her and again how she really thought I could do more...
So I told her that if she knew what I did all week long, she wouldn't say such things. That I was in fact doing more, teaching etc. And she went: "Oh, really? How many hours do you teach? 14, is it? Well, I did 22 while I was studying." She wasn't even meaning to be extra-bitchy. I guess it comes to her naturally.
Well, she well and truly pissed me off. How dare she?!?! But what pisses me off even more is that I let this ignorant cow ruin my evening and my sense of achievement. [They did a similar thing last week in my oral exam. After a quick comment that content-wise I had done okay, they went on and on about how in future exams I might want to be a bit more formal - well, they'd offered chocolates to begin with! -, which kinds of phrases not to use - they actually quoted me! ...That, too, had been a fair bit deflating, but at least they'd had a point there (and a slightly sore one at that).]

I guess I should see the bright side of being on the receiving end of teachers' talk for a change. So here's a big mental note to myself, actually several, written in bold, black letters on oversized, neon pink post-its:
a) Don't run people down who are already down.
b) Don't insinuate laziness where people might actually have done their best.
c) Nagging never motivated anyone.
d) Whatever happened to "Well done!"?

As to criticism directed at me, I hereby return to my old maxim (in fact, I never veered away): If you want to criticise me, write in on a piece of paper and throw it in the bin.

High time for some down time.

Yesterday as I was sitting on the train to Cologne I was checking my pulse (just out of habit, some of you might remember that bit of unresolved quick-pulse trouble I had to deal with last spring). Anyway, there I was counting and finding it just a tad too quick for someone my age quietly sitting down. Surprise, surprise. So it got me thinking (ooh, always risky, that!). I was trying to remember...
When was the last time that I was completely and totally relaxed? I mean truly. With no guilty conscience because of all the work I haven't done yet, no exams lurking just around the corner that make me question myself and my abilities, no two worlds/jobs/roles tugging at me from opposite sides, no little monster on my shoulder ready to pounce when I dare to be lazy...
As you might guess, I couldn't really pinpoint that moment. Or rather, I could have, but it would have been too far in the past for comfort. So I decided not to.
Ah, such stuff as self-pity is made on... Or maybe I'm just exhausted.
On the bright side: This time next week I might just have one of those moments when there's nothing to dread.
And a good, long moment at that!

Ready, steady?

Gott spricht zu jedem nur, eh er ihn macht,
dann geht er schweigend mit ihm aus der Nacht.
Aber die Worte, eh jeder beginnt,
diese wolkigen Worte, sind:

Von deinen Sinnen hinausgesandt,
geh bis an deiner Sehnsucht Rand;
gieb mir Gewand.
Hinter den Dingen wachse als Brand,
damit ihre Schatten, ausgespannt,
immer mich ganz bedecken.

Lass dir Alles geschehn: Schönheit und Schrecken.
Man muss nur gehn: Kein Gefühl ist das fernste.
Lass dich von mir nicht trennen.
Nah ist das Land,
das sie das Leben nennen.

Du wirst es erkennen
an seinem Ernste.

Gieb mir die Hand.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Allegro moderato.

Nothing much of note to share, but...
You know you are well on your way round the bend and spend way too much time banging your head on the piano keys and staring at those heaps of unread texts when

• you take the time to think about the silliness of tempo directions like "allegro moderato". I mean, "moderately happy"? Seriously, how silly is that? Or is it just euphemistic talk for snafu anyway? In that case, I fully embrace it.
• you discover new quirky details of your OCD nature by the hour. Like always having to put on the right glove before the left one? And always having to leave the shower with the left leg first? And... ah, nevermind.
• you slightly panic at the sight of your rapidly diminishing "carbohydrate" (read: sweets) shelf. Already my favourite kind of wine gum spaghetti is gone. And the shops are closed! Best soothe my poor nerves with a bag of crisps...
  

When will you come to your senses...?

When the chaos in my head gets so big, that I can't think straight, let alone formulate and follow through a complete and possibly even original train of thought - which, let's face it, has been the status quo for quite a while now - the only thing I can always count on are those songs in my head. They are like an audio-screensaver, keeping my thoughts in stand-by mode so that I won't actually notice that I'm not thinking for myself at all. Anyway, they do the job, so in the absence of anything intelligent to say, I'll just keep humming to myself... (Those other voices in my head say that's quite normal...)

Winter.

Living under the roof means that snow has a sound.
I can hear its soft, rustling whisper as it falls on my skylights. As it happens, it's the only sound I can hear right now. Outside all is muffled, still. For the moment, there are no cars, no voices. Just silence. And in here it's silent anyway. Except for the typing sounds of my keboard. And in a minute or so, Santo, my fridge, will come to life for a little while and purr his monotonous song. I guess I better go shopping to allay his hunger...

Wear my new hat, get my new boots on...

More stars.

Isn't it amazing how these masses of snow that cover most of the northern hemisphere these days, those snowballs, snowmen, igloos, sledging hills, ski slopes, snow drifts and avalanches are really just billions and billions of tiny, fragile, glittering, star-shaped crystals that melt as soon as you breathe at them?