Irish-Inspired Prose and Musings (from my trip)

As I mentioned two weeks ago, I went to Ireland for almost two weeks in June. While I was there, I wrote every day in my notebook about what we did, among some other ideas. Rather than including everything, and I know I still am including a lot, I’m just including the parts that get thoughtful, maybe even a little prose-y. To me, a simple itinerary of what I did isn’t very interesting or worthy of sharing. These are just thoughts, observations, and reflections that were inspired while in Ireland. As this was done journal-entry-style, there are some jumps, and it’s not all very refined. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy :)

6/14/17

[…]

Then the music started. It was the woman who owns the place, another girl, and a guy. The first woman (respectively) sang, played penny whistle (I think it’s called), and a wooden flute. The second looked a little younger, was absolutely adorable, sang, and completely killed it on the “fiddle.” I think she was actually playing a violin or a viola. The guy, a little younger as well, played a classical guitar, and, man, did he play. The most impressive thing was his right hand. At times he would strum so fast! He really made use of the guitar as a source of rhythm without compromising any of the chordal stuff.

They were all beyond spectacular. They were so tuned in to what they were doing. You could tell they believed in what they were doing, and that made everyone else believe in it, too. The whole place payed attention. I wonder if it would’ve been different if you took the same band, the same audience, and changed the setting to something with less novelty—a place where people aren’t on vacation. I hope not. They played a lot of songs that were instrumental, some that had words, and even some that were in what I assume was Gaelic, though I didn’t know the language had a few phlegmy words the way German does. I guess all of the selections were folk songs. An older lady in the back sung along to every word (regardless of language). I love when that happens. The musicians were just so into it. They almost brought me to tears a few times, but I kept them in (that would have been just a little award)—not the sad kind, though. I was just in awe. It was a lot of fun—amazing energy. Some ladies even got up and danced to a song. The music just filled the place with so much joy.

I think God was there, watching, and I think He was pleased.

[This was in a pub owned by the people who we rented from for the first three days of our trip. We basically lived behind it]

6/17/17

               We left Dingle today. My sister and her fiancé arrived last night and met up with us at a castle. It was kind of cool. The people who worked there were dressed really stupidly—cheesy, and it was all very disorganized. It would’ve been better with a tour guide and a small group. I love getting tour guides who actually find the attraction they work at to be interesting and who give a lot of information. There was none of that at this place. The rest of it was even worse. It was surrounded my buildings that were supposed to replicate a town during the time of the castle. All of them smelled terrible and were so obviously fake. There were donkeys, goats, and chickens in random pens all over the place. Two pigs were in a tiny shelter that was attached to a dreadfully small and dried up enclosure. Two calves were in a pen drinking milk from a fake udder attached to the gait. I asked the guy feeding them where the mom was. He just said, “Oh, she’s miles away.” So either she’s on a dinner plate or she’s suffering through the dairy industry to give humans milk instead of her own babies. The whole thing was just a big touristy production—and a bad one, at that.

              

6/18/17

               We could see the sun set over the water last night. There was a layer of clouds above the horizon. The sun passed behind it at 9:53 pm.

               [I talk about walking around a town, nothing very interesting]

               When we got back to the house, Mom and I walked over the rocks to the ocean. There were all kinds of puddles left over from high tide with little baby shrimpies, little crabs in swirly shells, minnows, etc. The rocks had barnacles, muscles, and some other shelled life attached to them. That was really cool. I probably seemed like a little kid, but I couldn’t help that I was fascinated. Of course I stopped to look at all of the tiny creatures.

6/20/17

               Yesterday we took a ferry to the Inis Oírr Island (one of the Aran Islands). We rented bikes there and rode through a maze of rock-walled pastures, up to the rocky coast, and to ruins of a church, a cemetery with another church, a castle, and a shipwreck.

               I love the rocky beaches and the way that the waves rush against the rocks, sometimes splashing up or running between them, washing over everything. It’s crazy to look down and see this shallow area of waves and rocks, then look out and see that it continues over the horizon. Touching that water is touching the same water that’s washing up on the shores of California, or Africa, or Japan. It’s the water that whales, sharks, and giant squids live in and that glaciers float on. It looks so barren and lonely, but even the smallest puddles from high tide are filled with life.

               I wasn’t a fan of the cemetery. Can you imagine your grave being a tourist attraction? Every now and then as I walked through I’d whisper, “I’m sorry,” just in case any of the dead could hear me or were offended. I heard someone say she saw graves of a family—with children. I passed the grave of a 19 year old boy—Thomas, I’m pretty sure. It was chilling. And of course all the while people are taking pictures and such. In the middle of it was an old church that had been dug up. The tour guide that we stumbled upon told his group that, as the cemetery expanded, it began to bury the church, which was why it was in the ground to far. He said a lot of cool stuff about it, actually, that I can’t quite fully recall today. He said that weddings, funerals, and mass are still held there. “Whether you’re religious or not,” he said about the service, “it’s an experience.” I’d like to know more about that church. He made it sound very influential. I’d also like to go to a service there. I’m all about “experiences.” It’s on the bucket list.

               He said some things about the castle, too, when he led his group there (and we followed), but not as much as he did about the church. It was half gone with the second and third floors missing. The first floor had three rooms. I think it was more of a tower than a castle. The guide said it was for intimidation. If people think they’re being watched, they’ll behave better.

               [On the boat ride back from the island, we were taken past the Cliffs of Moher. I saw a lot of sea birds and jellyfish in the water. I also got horribly sunburnt that day. The sun was actually out in Ireland! That wasn’t what I signed up for! I ended up sun-sick and everything.]

               The sun made it completely behind the water last night at 10:08! [I keep writing the time of the sunset because it’s so much later than what I’m used to in Pennsylvania]

               Today I stayed home. I’m exhausted, my face hurts, and I have a headache. The backyard of this house is rocks and ocean, so it’s still a beautiful place to be.

6/21/2017

               Mom and Dad took me where they went yesterday. They were right in thinking I’d love it. It was a trail that went along the water, passing the cliffs, rocks, and small caves that hold the ocean at bay. The land on the other side of the trail was pasture, holding a herd of cows and three horses.

               It’s a beautiful place. It’s one of those places where I just sigh and think, this is poetry. I stood atop tall rocks that dropped straight down to inky-black water, heart pounding as I said a silent hello to Death, who had no-doubt taken his fair share of lives there. I walked down to lower spots and watched the waves crash over and consume the rocks. The ocean has never really captivated me the way it does some people. Today it did. I don’t care for the plainness of its blue horizon and the blonde, sandy beaches. The rough water slamming itself against the harsh rocks is what seduces me. I love watching the dark blue water swell up, surging forward, then stretching its limbs over the low flat rocks, embracing it with long fingers and icy passion. To the right was more abrupt shoreline, part of which vaguely resembled a wave. I thought of how we often pick up the mannerisms of those we love and admire.

               The rocks were beautiful. All of them were flat, running parallel to the ground in rough layers haphazardly stacked upon each other. Some had straight lines cutting across the tops of them (so did the rocks on the shore of Inis Oírr). How could such straight and thin lines have been formed? It looked as if someone had taken a razor to the thick thighs of the land as it hangs its legs into the water. Maybe the land resents itself, looking out over the ocean and longing for that kind of fluidity, and the water tries to calm it. It soothes the land with words of love and songs of strength, reflecting as best it can, the land’s beauty so it can see itself for its worth.

               I wish to engulf and to be engulfed as the ocean does with the rocky coast, with reckless passion. I wish to understand and be understood so well that we sink into each other’s pores. I want to melt without any fear, insecurities, or apprehensions. I don’t know with whom—if it’s even a person at all—or when, or how or why.

an example of those lines across the rocks

cows, then ocean

me and my dad

7/12/17

               Wrap-up, after the fact.

               Yes, Ireland was amazing. It was a very good vacation—very peaceful. My favorite part was the rocky coastline [if you couldn’t tell], the landscapes, and the scenery. It would have been great to just sit for a while in some of the spots we were in, taking it in, listening, meditating, almost. It’s strange how cameras are the central part of a vacation. Every destination is a place for Mom to pretend she’s a photographer (nothing against her, someone in our family has to do it, I suppose). At times I began to feel like the vacation was a glorified photoshoot.

How would our interactions with nature be different without the camera? It amazes me how many pictures people do take, given that you can find a photo of anything on Google. I’ll admit, I take a few when really inspired—often of things that are rarely captured (like the fog) or a specific image that I think can be useful for later writings. I think it’s a bragging tool for most, without realizing it. A photo is taken as proof that one was able to take it. The remarkable thing is the image, the real thing, and it doesn’t need anyone’s comment or attention to be so. Nature will still be beautiful and enjoyable regardless of how we react to it. Honestly, I think that pictures are a little greedy. We want. We want to be able to keep something, as if the experience isn’t good enough on its own, or isn’t valid as just a memory. Taking pictures becomes the focus. It diminishes, even replaces, the experience for a lot of people. It saddens me. [This little rant/reflection on behavior is not meant to be an insult or to target anyone, and I do think that real photographers are very much artists and do amazing work.]

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.” ― Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad/Roughing It 

As always, thank you so much for reading, and feel free to share your own thoughts or stories in the comments! 

Open Mics Are Awesome! ...and Dying?

As you may know, I’ve been performing for a few years, and I would not be able to do any of it without open mics. For those who don’t know, open mics are events held at bars, coffee shops, etc., and are hosted by an individual or band. The host brings a sound system, and anyone can come up and play. Usually individuals will come with their acoustic guitars and sing. You can go by yourself, as a duo, or a band, it doesn’t matter. Some open mics are acoustic, and some may have a full band set up. Some may even have a band backing up all the acts that play that night. A lot of open mics run on some kind of schedule, either once a week, every other week, or monthly. There are no requirements to participating, and no need to call ahead or anything. You just walk in and sign up (most places will have a sign-up sheet). It’s pretty awesome.

               Like I said, I wouldn’t be anywhere without open mics. This is for two reasons: confidence and connections. Open mics are very informal. You don’t have to be great. They can be a place to try out new songs and experiment. They’re wonderful for getting used to playing in front of people because it’s not your event and you’re only up for a few songs instead of a whole set. People may even ask to play with you if they like you or know the song you’re playing. My advice: let them. It may not be good, but so what? It’s open mic. It may be really good and really fun. At least you’ll have the experience of playing or jamming out with others, which is almost always great. Another reason to go to open mics is the people you meet. Other musicians can give advice, can inspire you with their style, and they can tell you about the places where they perform. Almost every gig I’ve ever done has been at a place recommended by someone at an open mic. You may even find potential band mates.

               Walking into that bar or coffee house for the first time can be scary. Sometimes it seems like a clique has formed between all the musicians there, but that’s only because of people who attend regularly. I’ve always had very welcoming experiences at open mics. People love when somebody new comes. You will make the host(s)’s day! Also, don’t be afraid to talk to people. Conversations can easily be started by complimenting how they performed or their song choices. You’re both at an open mic; you must have something in common, right?

               Open mics aren’t just playing, they’re also watching. You’ll probably be surprised at just how good some of the people are going to be. Even if you don’t play, you can go to place that’s having open mic night and watch. Open mics have no extra charge—it’s free entertainment. Just look up online open mics in your area or ask any friends who might know of some. There is usually an “event” made on Facebook for open mics, so you’ll probably be able to see who’s running it and what it’s like.

               Even though open mics are SO AWESOME, they seem to be dying out (at least in my area). People aren’t out as much anymore, and a lot of people who come to the open mics are older adults. Of course, they’re still super friendly and extremely talented, but where is the younger generation? Like I said earlier, people love to see new faces, and they especially love to see young people come and enjoy the events, too. As a teenager myself, I would highly recommend going to open mics to people of any age.

               Open mics are wonderful events that can help build your confidence and get you in touch with the other musicians in your area, but they can only happen if people show up.

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” –Andre Gide

P.S. Guess who's starting up a YouTube channel? (It's me)

A Summer of Music

My lovely mother celebrated her 50th birthday this summer, and used this event as a reason to buy concert tickets for all the acts she's always wanted to see. So, my parents and I had what was probably the best summer of our lives as we witnessed some of music’s biggest legends. The “Mom’s Birthday Tour,” as we began to call it, started in Hershey Stadium with Sir Paul McCartney. Two short weeks later, we were in Washington DC singing along to Billy Joel. Lastly, in August, we rocked out to Joe Walsh in Maryland.

Our adventure started as we pulled into the grassy parking lot across the street from where—in a few hours—the former Beatle would be performing. There we passed many easy-ups and tailgate parties made up of fans both young and old. As we walked by, I imagined that Woodstock must have been like this, but times… what? A hundred? A thousand? Anyway, it clearly would’ve been on a much grander scale. Arriving and leaving were both made easy, and it was obvious that a lot of planning (much more than usual) went into crowd control for this specific event. That being said, crowd control mostly entailed directing people where to go, as the population there was largely composed of fans in their 60s and 70s—not a very rowdy group of people. I can’t say enough times how incredible his show was, or how awestruck I was (and still am) to have seen someone who played such a monumental and influential role in music history. Despite being 74 years old, McCartney still had the enthusiasm to be energetic on stage without missing a beat. His voice didn’t sound worn down or lacking in any qualities it formerly had. He was sweet, humble, and made it evident that he was there for the love of music. That was the most touching aspect—that he still has such a passion for it, and his fans do, too. His set list was made up of songs from throughout his life. He played Beatles hits, solo pieces, and Wings favorites, not forgetting to add in anecdotes about them in between. The sound quality was perfect. Both his vocals and the extremely talented musicians joining him could be heard clearly. The show left us mystified, and wondering, how on Earth can any of the other concerts top that?

Then, at the end of July, we found ourselves in Washington DC, waiting for about two hours in Nationals Stadium as rain poured down. It was crowded, humid, and drenched. Luckily, we had a roof, and were determined to see Billy Joel. This show by far was my mom’s favorite. She grew up listening to Billy Joel, and told me stories of calling the radio station every day to request his songs. Finally, music sounded from the large speakers, and everyone rushed to their seats. The one complaint about this show is that we were never warned that he was about to start playing when we were all taking shelter inside. Weather aside, this show again was fantastic.

Our last concert took us to Pier Six Pavilion in Maryland. This was the most awesome concert venue ever. Even though our seats were on the lawn, we could still see Joe Walsh! It was a small, brilliant place for a concert, and I highly recommend it to anyone. Now, there isn’t much that I can say about this act, or Billy Joel’s, without repeating the praise I gave for Paul. All of the concerts we went to were incredible. Each of the performers had wonderfully talented bands to back them up. The set lists of the acts stitched together the timelines of their careers. Joe Walsh even played “Take it to the Limit” as a tribute for Glen Frey. But, again, what was the most amazing, was seeing fans of all ages come together for the love of someone’s music—and the artists’ ongoing passion for what they do. It was obvious that Billy Joel still held his love of song dear, as he lost himself in the sound of the piano. Joe Walsh looked just like a teenager jamming on his guitar and having fun on stage.

Concerts always fascinate me by bringing together hundreds, sometimes thousands of people together just for one artist/band. It’s amazing to see that someone can create something so beautiful that people come (sometimes driving for hours to do so) to see it. Nothing is as inspiring to me as that—connecting with so many people through song. That’s why I shared these stories (that I dearly hoped you enjoyed!). Through all of the things that we find on a daily basis to complain about—myself included—there is still so much beauty in the world and in people.

"That’s one of the great things about music. You can sing a song to 85,000 different people and they’ll sing it back for 85,000 different reasons." –Dave Grohl

(My all-time favorite quote EVER)

What inspires you? Have you been to any concerts this summer? Feel free to share stories in the comments :)

Why I Don't Have Stage Fright When I Perform

I’ve been performing solo for about three years in settings like bars, restaurants, talent shows, and other local places. Sometimes people ask me how I’m able to play in front of an audience. “I could never do that,” is a common remark that I get. When I first began to play publicly, I had no confidence in what I was doing, but now I’m more comfortable behind a microphone and guitar in hand than I am anywhere else.

Starting Off With Some Wise Words

               Toward the end of eighth grade I started taking guitar and vocal lessons from the teacher I currently have now, who is in a band herself. She always encourages her students to perform (it really does make you better). So, sure enough, within a few months she had brought me out to one of her events to do a few songs. I was terrified, but I did it. Then, I participated in front of my whole middle school for the talent show. No other performance has ever filled me with more fear than that one. I didn’t even really want to do it. But, bless our choir director—he told all of us who signed up something I’ll never forget. To put this in context, there was an evening performance that students and adults could come to, then there was another performance the next day at school during an assembly/pep rally. Some of us were comfortable enough for the evening show, but afraid to go out in front of our peers. Before the evening show, he said, “I know some of you asked if you have to go tomorrow. The answer is no, but I’m just saying, if you’re nervous about performing in front of everyone tomorrow, or afraid, and decide not to go, that’s losing the battle without even putting up a fight. If you choose not to go tomorrow, you’re putting up your white flag, and they’ve already won.” He continued on with more pep-talk encouragement about our passions that I can’t recall verbatim. His words gave me the confidence to go on stage the next day, which is really the hardest part.

Ways to Overcome Stage Fright (What I Did)

               The most effective cure for a fear is simply to face it. I know it’s cliché, and surely isn’t easy sometimes. When I am afraid about a certain song or certain person in the audience that I know, the fear always leaves once the song begins. Starting is often the hardest and scariest part. Once I’m playing, I’m focused on the notes, keeping a consistent beat, and all of the emotions the song makes me feel. It’s almost impossible to be afraid during those three to five minutes, trust me—especially if it’s well-rehearsed.

              

               The second most valuable way to overcome your fear, after facing it, is to face it often. I’d say that the main reason I’m so comfortable during gigs is that I’m so used to it. I’ve done it so much that it doesn’t even phase me. If you’re doing what you love, eventually you will find this, too. Music is my passion, and, after the initial fear of performance, it’s just natural for me to do and to share with others.

               The last bit of advice that I have is that nobody cares. Of course I mess up—I do it every time I play somewhere. I’ll play the wrong chord, sing the wrong verse, forget to take a breath when I need to, or even sometimes forget some of the words.  Over the course of two hours of playing, it’s almost inevitable. That’s the thing: nobody is going to focus on the few seconds that I messed up out of an entire two-hour set. I know that not everyone is playing or singing for such a long period of time, though. Last year, I took a voice class at school where we had to sing a solo (without my precious guitar as my shield) about once every week. We even had to hear thoughts and critiques from our classmates on the spot right afterwards. It was definitely out of my comfort zone, but I wasn’t scared. After watching everyone else in the class do their pieces, I realized that I could barely remember how everyone did at the end of class. Sure, the people who blew me away (because of how good they were) stuck out a bit more, but I didn’t even think about any of the performances once they were over. I didn’t instantly remember how well or how badly someone did the next time we were together, and didn’t associate any performances with what I thought about those people. So, why would anyone else? Honestly, the truth is, a bad performance isn’t very interesting, anyway, so don’t worry about people thinking too much of it even if you do have one.

Messing Up

               When you do mess up (yes, everyone does), the best thing to do is keep going. Don’t quickly play that measure or note over again just to get it right. Keep going as if it never happened. This looks much more professional, and usually people won’t even notice you messed up if you don’t show it. It also won’t affect the timing of anyone else who may be playing with you. If you forget the words, sing the words that you do know. For example, if you forget the second verse of a song, sing the first verse again in its place (assuming it musically fits), then jump back in with what you do remember. If you’re in an informal setting and can play and sing at the same time, make a joke or something about forgetting the words while playing through that part, and go back into what you remember. If none of these are an option, just act as if there’s a break in there and you’re intentionally not coming in yet, instead of turning into a deer in the headlights.

Even if you truly don’t yet have confidence in what you do, fake it while playing. A song will always sound better when performed with confidence than when performed anxiously or quietly.

“No one is you, and that is your power.” –Dave Grohl

Do you perform or have experience with stage fright? What are some other tips or stories that you have? Let me know in the comments!