September 23, 2008

• Everything I need to know I learned at the symphony.

   

  So this past weekend The Franksabunch™ took a break from being ghetto fabulous and took The Wife™ to watch Peter Cetera perform with the symphony and as The Franksabunch™ is wont to do, I made some observations about the night and somehow managed to subvert it into a post for xanga.  Hahaha!  So, subbers and stalkers, in honor of Peter Cetera and the Honolulu Symphony, I present to you…

   

  Everything I need to know I learned at the symphony!!!

   

  A'ight, homies, it's time to get crunk all up in heeeeyah!

   

  Remember those books about how everything you needed to learn in life you learned in kindergarten/dodge ball/jiujitsu class/Starbucks?  Weak sauce, every single one of them.  The symphony is where you can learn how to, ahem, face the music in life.

   

  There’s a little bit of bad ass in all of us

  While the symphony was warming up I gangsta leaned over and whispered to The Wife™: “Do you think the 1^st chair violin player thinks he’s bad ass because he gets to press the piano key to tune everyone?”  To which she replied in the affirmative.  You see, when I was in band there was a hierarchy of testosterone.  The cool cats played percussion, and from there the hierarchy descended to the saxophones, trumpets, etc. all the way to the male flute players, who were all but guaranteed 3 wedgies a week in P.E. class.  The male violinist?  He’s just like the male flute player.  It’s a double whammy.  It’s like being Ashlee Simpson with her original nose.  (I used to torment this violin player in high school by asking him, “Sooooo…how does your G-String fit today?”  I know, I know…immature.)  The Wife once told me that 4% of the population are responsible for making the world go around and that the rest of us are just along for the ride.  Now that male violinist who gets picked on vehemently, who do you think he will grow up to be?  Do you think Bill Gates was the starting quarterback at his high school?  Not everyone has a passion that sprouts popularity, but just keep your chin up and work hard, son, because one day you just might wake up and discover that through your passion you have become the bad ass that the rest of the world has to tune to. 

   

  Humble pie…it’s good for you…and us.

  Remember who stands at the top of the testosterone hierarchy?  The drummers!  One thing that never ceases to crack me up during the symphony is watching the percussion section.  Why?  Because you have these world-class musicians who will spend the next 90 minutes holding the triangle going *ding*……….*ding*………..*ding*……….[wait for it, wait for it]………*ding*.  Now I’m sure that these fine men and women would like nothing more than to grab the sticks and go Winona-Ryder-in-the-mall crazy on the tympanis, but for the greater good, sometimes it’s better to swallow your pride and just, well, *ding*.  As a physician, sometimes nurses/patients/families may recommend for me to do off-the-wall things, but instead of going Lil Mama on them with, “What, you IS crazy.  You better pick it up!” I reply with, “thanks for letting me know, it’s a good idea, but how about trying it this way first?”  Humility is like Metamucil…hard to swallow, but it makes everything smoother in the end.  (Sorry, I couldn’t think of a non-scatological analogy.)

   

  There’s beauty in even the smallest job.

  Besides the male flute players, I always made fun of the guys who played oboe.  I mean, how could I not make fun of the skinny dude playing an instrument that sounds like a constipated baby duck?  But over the years I’ve come to appreciate even the smallest of parts.  Sure, the verse, melody, chorus, etc. are important, but the space between good and great music is filled with those subtle additions that you won’t pick up unless you’re looking for them.  Think of the cello in a Jars of Clay song or the cowbell in a Beastie Boys song.  When listening to classical music, listen for the oboe, it’ll serve to elevate the sound of the whole orchestra.  Remember, while 4% of the population is responsible for making the world go around, the other 96% can still make it a better place. 

   

  So whatever your passion, trade, interest, hobby or instrument is…do it well, my friend, for in this symphony called life, you only have one chance to be heard.

   

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  Have a great week!  I highly recommend seeing Peter Cetera if he comes to perform with your local symphony.  There’s something about hearing him sing “You’re the inspiration” and “Glory of Love” live…they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.  His daughter even came out and sang a couple songs with him.

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  Bonus Post!

   

  Christmas in August.

   

  Ever since I got married, The Wife™’s KP has been on overdrive and she has been forcing me to do more “Korean” things, like eating kim bap, cutting my hair at Korean barbershops and watching Korean films.  I think she’s trying to turn me into a Korean!  (Oh shush, dongseng, I know you’re going to accuse me of wanting to be Korean!)  So at Blockbuster she picked up yet another Korean film, “Christmas in August” for tonight.  [Warning: plot and ending spoiler, but this movie is a decade old.]

   

  This film centers around a photographer with a terminal disease who falls in love with a wahine in his last few months of life and finds himself faced with the dilemma of whether to tell her about 1) his love for her and 2) his impending death.  In the end he chooses to tell her about neither until he is already dead.  I thought it was stupid of him to not tell her because he robbed himself of the chance of being fully loved by her.  The Wife countered that the ending was perfect, that it was, simply, “the Korean way.”  I mockingly made the half-gagging, half-hissing sound that Koreans from the rural south do and waved her argument off.  I’ve been thinking about it the past couple of hours, though…  The Wife™, you see, left her home, family and friends in NorCal to follow me to Hawaii.  She spends most of our time together making sure that I’m okay even though I’m trying to make sure she’s okay.  I never understood why she always says that if I die she’ll soon follow afterwards (broken heart, not suicide), but after seeing this movie I now understand where she’s coming from.  

   

  Sometimes, it is more important to love than to be loved.

   

  Because he died with his love for her in his heart, for him, in that moment his love for her in his heart would endure forever.  (Kind of like the ending of Natural City, when the cyborg Ria pulls out the…...never mind, go watch that one also.)

   

  I guess being Korean (or marrying one ) isn’t half bad after all.  (I still can’t eat kim chi raw, though.)

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  Edit: Any of you people watch I Love Money on VH1?  My bet is on Hoopz to win it all in the season finale this Sunday!

  • 6:54 am
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