The church musician rant...

Today I was talking to my friend Paul about church music jobs, and how ugly the pay is. I interviewed at a local church, where I would get paid $6000 a year to direct three children's choirs, lead Sunday school music, and direct Christmas programs and a musical, and often play piano for rehearsals and services. They suggested that the position would require about 10 hours of work a week. If that's so, then the position pays about 12.50 an hour. Even though it requires a specialized degree AND experience, and serves a large, urban church.

However, if you think preparing rehearsals, practicing conducting and piano playing, service planning, music selection, leading the rehearsals themselves, coordinating parent volunteers, etc., for three large youth choirs takes 10 hours a week,

YOU HAVE LOST YOUR MIND.

Teachers get paid low salaries. Ministers get paid low salaries. But for crying out loud, they
GET TO EAT!!!!

Another church where I'm applying suggests that the principal organist position will require 12 hours work per week. To prepare fresh, interesting pieces (or even lame, rehashed ones), and play them in a coherent manner, will require me to practice 3-4 hrs per day, at least 5 days per week. this comes out to around 18 hrs per week. Then I will be playing for choral rehearsals - that's 2 more hours, and on sunday mornings - 4 more hours. For a grand total of 24 hrs per week. This is not an over-estimate by any means - it leaves out practice for playing weddings (for which, thankfully, there is a small stipend), and extra preparation for cantatas, christmas and lent programs, and other special services, of which there are about 6 every year. There is NO additional compensation for these services. Notice my low-balled estimate is TWICE the suggested hours the church gives. They give these low estimates to make the salary look better.

Where I worked in MD, the pastor received $70,000 a year as his salary, plus benefits. I received 4200, and a lot of thank you cards. The organist made about 6200. Was it any wonder that the organist often flubbed his part (he was usually sightreading the choral music, after coming straight from his day job), or that I was disorganized and scatterbrained on some Thursday nights, after a full day at work?

I do church music out of the love of my heart. I do not do it for money, or for recognition, because god knows, you don't get much of either. However, I went to six years of school for this. You required that I have a degree, to even apply for your position. You expect me to have advanced knowledge of music theory, music history, music of the church, the human voice, AND have the ability to teach these things to laymen and experienced musicians alike. You expect flexibility and organization, you expect me to work as a manager, leader, and example, but I am not paid a salary that allows me to live in any kind of comfort. I live in old houses with four other people, or a studio with roaches and mice as extra tenants, not because I want to live an "artist's life", and enjoy the bohemian life - but because I am forced to live paycheck-to-paycheck because you are CHEAP. I am not lazy - I work 65 hours a week (including the day job) so you can have a meaningful worship time. I go to services that I don't have to, to socialize and make connections with new possible choir members. I give a shit. But it's becoming increasingly clear, protestant congregations, that you do not.

people like me

I'm settling into Iowa City life pretty well - today I ate my own cooking from the food I bought at the co-op, and even *gasp* cleaned the kitchen. My housemate, who has unbounded energy, went about twenty places today. I went to an interview, visited a minister friend, and went to a random poetry reading.

The poet at the reading was shockingly shy. She was funny in a way that was almost intentional, which to me, is the most funny. Honesty is a sort of humor. When she stepped up to the mic, she said, "I'd really rather not be here. Or at least, I'd like to wear a bag over my head with holes for eyes. Maybe a burkah." Which wouldn't have been funny, of course, except that it was obvious that she really did want to find a trap door in the floor, and disappear.

Her poems were sort of intellectual but accessible, and she had that way, that some have, of being dark without ever being overdramatic about it. Sort of: this is true, and it sucks. She didn't draw conclusions that she didn't have access to. By which I mean, she didn't turn observation into theology, the way a lot of writers do. That's skipping a step, somehow.

She also had the best shirt ever! It was velvet, with intricately painted trees on it. Think of a velvet elvis painting - that sort of pallette. But, you know, better. She, and the woman who introduced her, were beautiful, but in an odd way. Not like a hollywood starlet, or even a country singer.

A floor cleaner droned during part of her reading, and someone had to close the door. The School of Business, where the reading was held, was closing down. But in that room, the quiet, awkward poet held a group of students (who probably came by mandate of a teacher) and a few others in rapt attention, hanging on every word, laughing at her oddly placed vulgarities.

I didn't think I was actually going to make the reading - I just stopped by the building in case. I was walking along, dreaming of showing my songs to my roommate and her boyfriend. One of them plays the guitar, not sure which. Somehow I got there at exactly five before 8, and found a seat.

There is room for people like me, here. People sit and listen to accidentally funny, awkward people with interesting takes on life. Maybe I'll find my place.

goodbye office

Today I am saying goodbye to my co-workers at my non-profit office job. Not to get too corny about it, but the-life-I-would-have-had-if-I-had-stayed keeps flashing before my eyes. My co-workers have started going out to movies together, and I'm sure I would have joined them a few times. Maybe I would have made lasting friendships here; I've only been here for 8 months, and some of us were just starting to really get to know each other. My friend Stephanie has a room available in her house nearby - it's 350 a month - I could have lived there. The church job would be in full force now, or if I had skipped it, I'd be on the hunt for a new one - church jobs keep opening up around here.

A guy from a different department, that I had chatted with only very occasionally, but mostly just smiled at, came to my party and suddenly waxed poetic to everyone about what a nice person I am. He expressed regret that we didn't get to know each other, and I don't doubt we would have dated. I would have gone out for Indian food with Meena, and played golf with the girls from Frederick every Tuesday.

I would have found a way to make this life work, the way everyone makes do with what they have. I would have been promoted at my jobs, and had success. But I'd always be wondering...

synchronicity

I was getting moody, sitting at my computer at work just now, thinking about all the things that I can't have.... and then the radio played:

"You can't always get what you want" by the Rolling Stones.

Very funny, God. Ok, I get it.

whoa, baby!

The timeline:

9:30: I get to work at the same time as my very pregnant boss, Amy. She looks pretty ill around the face, and tells me she's not sure how long she'll stay around today. It's the 13th, though, she says, so baby can't come today.

10:30 Amy meets with the big boss to discuss projects

11:30 Amy closes her door, to try to concentrate. She comes out to give the department secretary her timesheet. She'll be going home to rest early today. She says something about "false labor" to the secretary, and gets back to work.

12:30 Gretchen knocks on Amy's door to check on her. Her face is so pale, it's gray. "You've got to get out of here," Gretchen says. They call the doctor and the order comes back, "Go to the hospital - now".

12:40 Most people follow Gretchen and Amy partway down the hall - they step in the bathroom, and a moment later Gretchen runs back to the kitchen to get a piece of Tupperware.
Apparently, Amy's water broke. Nicole suddenly realizes, "hey, that was my bowl!"

12:45 Gretchen takes Amy to the hospital

1:15 Gretchen calls into the office. They got to the hospital room with almost no time to spare - after 4 minutes of labor - it's a girl!

So in honor of the miracle of life interrupting our office day, a poem.

My feet took a walk in heavenly grass,
All day while the sky shone clear as glass.
My feet took a walk in heavenly grass,
All night while the lonesome stars rolled past.

Then my feet come down to walk on earth,
And my mother cried when she give me birth.

Now my feet walk far and my feet walk fast,
But they still got an itch for heavenly grass
But they still got an itch for heavenly grass.

- Tennessee Williams

cold turkey

It's official! I am no longer drinking. I decided this on the car ride back from Dad's. I only drink:

1) When I am in a bad mood, or depressed. This is not a good pattern.

2) When I am trying to get along with people I'm not comfortable around. Henceforth I'll just avoid these people, or use actual social skills to deal with the situation.

3) As courage for dancing. This is the only useful scenario I can really think of. It's a slippery slope though. Too much and the dancing gets quite awful.

I may catch hell if I don't have a glass of wine at my going-away dinner, though, so I may make an exception. Considering the plan is "dinner and pub crawl".

Survival of the fittest

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/09/08/AR2005090801553.html?nav=hcmodule

So Richard Hatch from the first "Survivor" has been indicted for tax evasion. I remember how, at the time, everyone complained that he was the most ruthless and backstabbing of the contestants, and how his dishonesty served him well - he played "Survivor" like the game that it was. He's become a motivational speaker, helping others find their way to similar "success".

There have been a lot of comparisons drawn between "Survivor" and the corporate world. A lot of people would give big corporations even more power than they currently have, as we watch them ruthlessly conquer more and more of our daily lives. Those too deeply steeped in corporate culture work the game of life as ruthlessly as Hatch worked the system of tribal councils and immunity. Playing without attachments, loyalties, or ethics gets them where they want to go.

Thankfully, our laws sometimes prevent the bad guys from playing their games with everybody else's money. That's why I often wonder why people are so troubled by "big government". Granted, there's a limit to what government can and should do. But unless we want a bunch of Richard Hatches leading our way, we should think twice about leaving our fate up to natural selection.

a place that doesn't exist yet

I watched a documentary tonight about Willa Cather - it's interesting how artists and writers' lives are so unglamourous. I couldn't help thinking she had quite a degree of nerdiness - plain face, a tendency to dress like a man....she found what seemed to be a love relationship with another woman, only to have that woman marry a man later in life. By some definitions, she was kind of a loser.

I often find biographies of great women kind of scary - as they almost always seem to include divorce, or loss of a major relationship. Madeline Albright, whose biography I am currently reading, was divorced by her husband just as her career began to skyrocket. He had stood by her as they lived in both New York and Washington, and his career had floundered, while hers took off. He took on the role of primary care-giver to their children as she worked longer hours in Washington (though she still fulfilled many domestic roles that a career woman today might not think of filling). He never begrudged her success, and became a successful journalist in his own right, though in his family's eyes, he should have been a magnate of some sort. All in all, though, it seemed an idyllic situation.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he left her for a much younger woman. He even made ugly comments about her gaining weight, and otherwise showing signs of age. Madeline was shocked and devestated, and for a time, emotionally immobilized. Her stasis did not last long, though, considering she afterwards became the US UN ambassador, then Secretary of State. Nevertheless, her story bothered me a lot. I wondered if powerful women (I'll never forget the magazine cover, with her wry grin on it, with the headline "The Most Powerful Woman in the World") don't get the happily-ever-after that the princesses do.

For some reason, Willa Cather's story bothered me less. Maybe because it was peppered with phrases from her writing - so poetic, so optimistic, in their way. No one who did not live fully, who did not experience life and love vibrantly, could have written such verses. I could not find one phrase in her writing that made me feel sorry for her.

I don't hope to be secretary of state one day, or anything resembling it. And I dont' think myself a Willa Cather. But I will always be one who does not shy away from power, at least that which is rightfully mine. The love stories of powerful women may always end in tragedy, but it is not their fault, for a life lived too devoted to career, and not enough to the upkeep of self and home. It is the fault of the society they live in. They are not the losers. They inhabit a place that doesn't exist yet.

The world changes both around, and because of the lives of strong women. You could look at their stories as cautionary tales - but to me, they are inspiration, and hand out a responsibility. These womens' legacies live on because we follow in their footsteps.

and there is a fear...

Gotta love this poem:


Love is a Terrible Thing

I went out to the farthest meadow, I lay down in the deepest shadow;
And I said unto the earth, "Hold me,"
And unto the night, "O enfold me,"
And unto the wind petulantly I cried,
"You know not for you are free!"

And I begged the little leaves to lean
Low and together for a safe screen;
Then to the stars I told my tale:
"That is my home-light, there in the vale,
"And O, I know that I shall return,
But let me lie first mid the unfeeling fern.

"For there is a flame that has blown too near,
And there is a name that has grown too dear,
And there is a fear . . ."

And to the still hills and cool earth and far sky I made moan, "
The heart in my bosom is not my own!
"O would I were free as the wind on wing;
Love is a terrible thing!"

Grace Fallow Norton


The thing that separates this work from your usual, "I'm in love, it sucks, waaaaaah" kind of poem, is the line, "and there is a fear..." You can just feel a cold wind blow over the whole poem when you read it. Losing love is sad, bittersweet; it's many things, but it's also scary. Will you ever find it again? And if you've been replaced, there's a horrible pit of fear in your stomach, I mean, if you're replacable, why are you here at all? Are you replacable to everyone else too? The thing that romantic love gives you is a sense of being intrisically, individually important - people have many friends, but most choose one lover. Suddenly your stock, in the world, has gone down.

Right before I went to bed last night, I watched a country video for Gary Allen's remake of Vertical Horizon's "Grey Sky Morning", in which an odd Ophelia-type lady in a boat keeps sailing toward the singer guy. The song describes the guy being "haunted", and the apparition in the video seems to come from that line. So last night, I dreamed of a little girl who looked like something out of a horror movie, with dark tangled hair, a white dress, and huge dark-circled eyes, whom I was trying to take care of. She reminded me of the girl in a poem I wrote - here's a part:

"Do not think you can recover from a broken heart
It does not grow back together like skin
A little black hole remains
A wide-eyed child in the corner of your memory
No longer innocent
No longer lost

The haunting begins
Sometimes laughing
Sometimes playing tricks with your mind
But a love pulled so violently from this world
Won’t let her name be forgotten"

I don't have anything clever to say today.
No witty sarcastic comments. Today I am just sad.
"There is no word nor any sign
Can make amend--He is a stranger to me now
Who was my friend."
-Joyce

you go, girls!

My friends Carolyn and Yi-Wen, both engineers, have recently gotten new jobs! Both have managed to make the next step in their careers, and enter better workplace environments. Yi-Wen will be helping to design subway systems in Taipei, and Carolyn will be designing medical diagnostic equipment in Baltimore. Yi-Wen leaves a male-dominated, sexist workplace for a more female-friendly one, where she describes her boss as "kind." Carolyn enters a more down-to-earth workplace, that nonetheless promises to be more challenging.

You go girls! I'm so proud of my friends!

Shock and Awe

Many strange and seemingly unrelated things have been coming to mind as I hear of the horror that is today’s New Orleans. A few examples:

1) The stealth bomber
2) The fireworks show/bombing raid of the first night of the Iraq War
3) The missile that scientists, a few months back, precisely targeted to hit a meteor.

The connection, of course, is the stark contrast of what our society is capable of, and what it actually chooses to do. We can guide a missile to hit a moving target in precisely the correct spot, but we don’t do what we can to avert a major human crisis, right here on earth.

Hindsight is 20/20….my imagination is filled with wonderful ways that more of the people of New Orleans could have been saved. I imagine a convoy of buses, taking people who can’t afford to leave to higher ground. I imagine a disaster relief fund, which guarantees the fleeing refugees a home of some kind to come back to. I imagine a military force like no other sweeping in after the city was flooded, enforcing order, finding the lost. I think of the hundreds of planes and soldiers and health professionals that could have descended upon the city IMMEDIATELY after the winds died down…..I even think of the amazing inventions that could have helped – levee control devices, high-speed transport for victims, portable shelters and hospital facilities….sure, these are wild ideas, but think about the items on my list above.

We don’t lack imagination, we lack vision.

We don’t lack ingenuity, we lack compassion.

We have the people power to help, deployed elsewhere.
In this, we lack leadership.

new blog!

A friend and I have created a new blog, where we post bad song lyrics, and add our comments (appropriately, we add them in the comment section). Check it out!
http://reallybadlyrics.blogspot.com