DON'T HUMOR THE HATERS

I'll get back to running in the next post...

When one encounters an obstacle...

I wanted to share with you a piece that I wrote a few years ago that explains how I operate and how I continue to do what I do in all areas of my life. 

In fact, this has everything to do with running.

I hope that you enjoy this little tidbit. Although it is mainly about my first few days at Oberlin Conservatory as a freshman voice major, I think you'll be able to tell why I decided to post it here. 

*I have changed names to protect the identity of my classmates...

THE TEST

“No one ever passes this test, you know,” said the self-assured senior voice major as I tried to rush past him in the narrow hallway of Robertson, the building that housed most of the tiny, airless practice rooms at The Oberlin Conservatory of Music.

“Thanks. I’m going to take it anyway, you know, just to see what the test is all about, because everyone’s been telling me not to. It must be really hard,” I said, annoyed and waiting for him to stop blocking my way. I needed to get to the second floor of Bibbins Hall, where I would sit for an hour and rack my brains about dead European men, whose creations I seemed to have a special affinity for.

“Well, you’re wasting your time. Why don’t you just go like, practice? C’mon you’re a freshman, and you’re a voice major. Voice majors never pass the music history exemption test. Hell, they never even take it. You need to be in the practice room,” he said, shaking his head with a sympathetic smile and walking away. Continuing to warn me, he yelled, “Only like, European violinists and pianists ever pass the test. It’s their music anyway.”

Damon Purdy* was a legend at Oberlin. Everyone listened to what he had to say, even though he could be sort of a jerk. His incredible vocal talent— his melismatic gospel seemed to lend itself flawlessly to the demands of fioriture in bel canto opera—and his equally fluid keyboard skills in both styles were astonishing in such a way that one was overwhelmed simply by being in his presence. People listened to what he said and followed his advice. Even seasoned professors and professional musicians who had no need for advice from a twenty something regarded his generous running commentary as something worth lauding.

The exemption exam tested one’s knowledge of various periods in the western classical tradition, from early-medieval and renaissance idioms to modern serialism propagated by the likes of Arnold Schoenberg and Anton Webern. We were to identify each piece of music by period, composer, genre, historical context, and instrumentation.  Monteverdi, Scarlatti, Bach, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Strauss, Webern—this was the test that I had been preparing to pass for 4 years...Stockhausen. Stockhausen?  Who in the hell was Stockhausen? That part I left blank.

We can do anything and everything. Don't Humor the Haters.
This past weekend, I finished my 5th Ultra. 

Fortunately, Stockhausen’s existence and contributions to contemporary classical music did not have the disastrous effect on my exemption that I had feared. The list that was posted that same evening outside of Bibbins 206 contained my name and the names of two other freshmen, who turned out to be Hungarian and Russian pianists.

***

“No one ever gets out of the writing requirement at Oberlin,” said my good friend Frankie Adan*, an editor at the Oberlin Review. “You shouldn’t even try. I mean, your stuff is good and everything but don’t like, waste your time.”

“Okay, um, thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes and walking away with the paper topic in hand.