Monday, April 25, 2011

A Decade of Music, Part 1

This is a bit early, but I have a habit of remembering tasks after they should be done, so I do this before such happens. In the approaching June, sometime, I will have had 10 years of formal music education. By this I mean that, when I was 12 years old, I began my first piano lessons (and I will be 22 this summer). Before that time, I had attempted the saxophone in fifth grade, only to quit a few months later; the dinky music classes in elementary school; and, technically speaking, I had been learning the piano on my own, and with a friend's help and piano, for about a year. It isn't exact, but these things rarely are. I remember my first lesson. My piano teacher, who was also the choir/music teacher at my middle school (my dad, knowing about my desire to learn the piano, asked her at a Solo & Ensemble event if she taught privately, she replied in the affirmative, and things were arranged), taught at her home. My family had been out in Oklahoma visiting my oldest brother, who was stationed at Tinker Air Force Base. We drove like mad to get home in time to get my music and head on over to my teacher's house. My first piece was the dreadfully ubiquitous Canon in D by Pachelbel, because it was in the only music book I had, which came with the sad excuse I had for a piano, a Casio (with only 66 keys and no pedals). I was still having trouble at the time playing both hands simultaneously, so those early lessons were quite difficult. However, I managed to progress so quickly that in three years time I was able to play "The Great Gate of Kiev" from Pictures at an Exhibition, by Modest Mussorgsky, and the whole suite remains my favorite work for piano. During this time, my parents had bought me a real piano, a Kimball Spinet, which I still have to this day; much is the abuse and love it has received. Before my sophomore year, my teacher recommended that I move on to another teacher, who would be able to lead me into even better playing. For the next three years, I progressed yet more, and had moved on to things like Bartok's "Allegro Barbaro" and Liszt's Liebestraum No. 3. Then came college (more on that later), and another piano teacher. She helped me along nicely, and then in the middle of my junior, at her suggestion, I switched teachers to learn with the head of the piano department at Webster University, Daniel Schene, with whom I will conclude 10 or so years of piano lessons.

I must admit, though, that I will stop taking lessons for awhile. Looking back, I have a love-hate relationship with that large, sounding box. I am reminded of this great quote from The Importance of Being Earnest: "I don't play accurately-anyone can play accurately-but I do play with wonderful expression. As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life." My technique has never been the best, and it has hindered my ability to express. This bothered me for awhile, because I didn't understand why, though I loved to play, I hated to practice. Then, in a lesson with Professor Schene, he told me something that I had never realized, which was that I liked to listen when I played. When I thought about it, everything made sense. I do not gain much tactile, physical enjoyment from playing, except on rare occasions (thus my sloth regarding technique, which I neglected relatively); rather, I love to hear the music. This is also why I love to accompany, because, for the most part, the piano's music is such that I can relax enough to hear the other part(s).

To conclude this part, I thought I would share with you some of my favorite pieces for the piano:
(* indicates pieces I have learned)

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Terminal Extent Reasoning

I have no idea if this is present in other systems of logic, philosophy, or whatever, but over the recent years I have developed a system of debating a topic with myself (and others) that seems to work quite well. It is, as entitled, "terminal extent reasoning." Perhaps teleological systems might have this. Anyway, it is a very simple concept: you take an idea and carry it out to its extreme (or, at least what one can perceive is the extreme), and if it is still sound/reasonable/just/ethical, whatever the case may be, then the original form of the idea is also so. If, however, you come across a problem even before the perceived extreme, then the idea is thrown into a question of soundness. I have always found that, after encountering the problem and examining the idea, the idea is indeed unsound. Finally, to carry the reasoning to the terminal extent, one must bring in knowledge of other areas into the question so that one can gain a true appreciation of the issues.

Take, for example, gun control. A friend posted on Facebook an event that was really an invitation for people's thoughts on gun control (it was for a class). I saw the usual comments:
"guns dont [sic] kill people, people kill people"
"I think that guns should be denied to the following people: the mentally impaired, people with a prison record, people who have been ordered to go to anger management classes, people who have a record of abuse or fighting, people who have basically any sort of police record, and people who have certain types of psychological disorders (i.e. schizophrenia, a diagnosed psychopath) and people should NOT be allowed to purchase a gun if they have small children living with them. So basically, a background check should be performed on EVERY applicant and it should be THOROUGH to check for all of the above. Other than that I think it's fine if someone wants to have a fun [sic] in their house for protection, just PLEASE not if their [sic] are children in the house."
And from the other side:
"Gun control is for wimps and incompetents. Let me just get one thing straight; guns don't kill people, I do."
"guns don't kill people, people do, aaaand, yeah, if you make them illegal only the bad guys will have them, and what will the normal law-abiding people defend themselves with?"
 My post (in 2 parts):
Guns kill people. So do knives, wires, baseball bats (any blunt object, really), electricity, weather, gravity, disease. Should all these things be legislated and regulated? Should I have to be screened every time I buy a kitchen cutlery set? Should we deny people's right to gravitational pull because they do yet meet age requirements, under the notion that, because they haven't reached some magical number like 18 or 21, they are just too immature to handle it?
The writers of the Constitution made the right to bear arms the Second Amendment because they knew, from experience, that after all the diplomacy and theories and ideas, the last thing you have to fall back on to protect your safety and liberty is arms. Gun control does nothing but deny good people, who abide the strictures their governments pass, from protecting themselves against others who will seek weapons regardless of the law. Practically all Swiss people own at least 2 firearms, yet, they are one of the safest nations on earth. America was once like this, with everyone owning some firearm. For those concerned with those somehow unable to operate them properly, education is everything. You shouldn't hide the fact that you have a gun from your children, and you should teach them its uses and its dangers. I think many problems could be ameliorated if we just told our children the truth.
The first paragraph is the more relevant to this post. Though I was being humorous (in the grand tradition of Swift's Modest Proposal), I was simultaneously being deadly serious, and using terminal extent reasoning to be so. If it follows that guns are dangerous, and that we need to screen people before they are allowed to own/use dangerous things, and then regulate their owning/usage, then why should we not extend it to these other things? What is it that makes guns so special? The ability to cause harm from a distance? Then we should also control blow darts; however, since all I need for a blow dart is a tube and some projectile that can be blown from it, we would have to regulate all pipe-like objects and able ammunition, and screen people who want to buy some plumbing objects. We see this with cold medicines and other things which, because they are used to make meth, have become highly regulated. Another thing that causes harm from a distance is very large hail. Are you hubristic enough to control the heavens themselves and what they pour fourth? Or maybe you are concerned about the damage firearms cause. They certainly are powerful. So are knives. And gravity. But I've made my point.

Let's not even get on to the subject of ideas themselves, perhaps the most dangerous things of all.

As for that second paragraph that I posted, I'll deal with the Constitution another time.

Now, for a thing of beauty. I have been obsessed with this piece for a while, so I share it with you; it is Pohjola's Daughter, composed by Jean Sibelius (about whom I will certainly have things to blog), and performed by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra under Thor Johnson:

Monday, April 18, 2011

Across One Hundred Fifty Aprils

The American Civil War is anything but. Over 150 years ago this April this conflict began after Lincoln ordered the firing of Fort Sumter, South Carolina. After four years, this nation, this continent had experienced the bloodiest war it has yet to know: around 670,000 deaths; about 50,000 of these were Southern civilians. The South was ravaged and raped, the North somewhat scarred. The world was shocked to learn that Union generals were allowing their soldiers to rape and pillage (New Orleans, in particular). Cities such as Vicksburg and Atlanta were devastated, and all sorts of things incidental to commerce and industry in the South were destroyed. The much-ballyhooed Tecumseh Sherman led a scorched earth campaign that he openly said amounted to war crimes. Lincoln himself suspended the writ of habeas corpus, which is an old legal and moral right that states that one may not be imprisoned without being charged with a crime. This allows people, such as dissenters, to be imprisoned without reason and for an indefinite time (sound familiar?), and this is just what he and others did. He ordered the summary execution of soldiers who went AWOL; he initiated the draft and the income tax. There are others, but these are sufficient. All these things are anything but civil, in a certain sense.

Yet, the sense in which "civil" is meant in the phrase "civil war" is not the same as above. A cursory search yields a definition that states, in general, that a civil war is a war between inhabitants and/or factions of the same country. The American Civil War supposedly falls under this, but to be called a "civil war," as I have learned, requires one group to actively overthrow and replace another. This was not quite the case in 1861. Southern states simply seceded from the Union; they did not take siege of Washington D.C. or the like to replace the government, but rather separated themselves from it. In effect, they did what the Second Continental Congress did in 1776, and declared themselves, with a list of grievances, independent of their oppressors. Just as King George III would not have it, so too Lincoln. Just as colonials declared themselves free from Britain and defended their position (more or less), so too the South. It only became necessary later for Southern armies to move into the North, for political and survival reasons. Therefore, it is more appropriate to call the conflict the War for Southern Independence or the War of Northern Aggression.

Most would object to comparing the War for Southern Independence with the American Revolution, and therefore do not call it that. For one, many do not find the Southern states secession at all legal. There is a long argument for why it is, but it can be summarized thus, known as the "compact theory": when the U.S. Constitution had been drafted and was being sent around for state approval, the states were led to believe that they were, in essence, signing a contract, in which they were combined for their mutual welfare, but otherwise separate; that they granted to a federal government certain powers which, however, could be taken back; and that, just with any contract, parties are either free to leave (after giving up whatever benefits they had gained) or have the right to leave if another party reneges. This is how the seceding states saw the matter; Lincoln did not.

For another, though, and this is the main issue associated with the Civil War, people cannot see this as a fight for independence when those demanding it are involved in slavery, and this was certainly a major issue then. Yet, it was part of an even larger issue, which was continued Northern political aggression, through tariffs and such. Foreign observers saw the stakes at hand. It is no mistake or embarrassment that Lord Acton corresponded with Robert E. Lee, for he and others knew that if America's shining example was to continue and be proven, it had to pass this test by a Southern victory. That if the right of certain people and people's to determine their own fates was to thrive, the South must win. Lincoln saw differently, and he moved Earth and Hell to achieve his obsessive goal of forcing the Union to stay together, and he did it not caring if slavery was dissolved or not.

Despite all this, the concern of slavery remains. "Well," many counter, "perhaps all this is true, but the Civil War did end slavery." That it did indeed, and that is the lone good. But the history of abolition is rather clean, aside from the War of Northern Aggression. In all other countries which had institutionalized slavery, it was ended relatively peacefully; there were some riots and uprisings, but nothing on the scale of what America went through. Slavery in America was on the way out when the Civil War began.

So was it worth it? Did 670,000 people have to die to end slavery in America? Again, I say, foreign observers saw with the greatest clarity the import of the war. It was not just the right to self-determination, but a Southern victory would prove to the world that the American Revolution was more than a fluke, that it could be repeated; that an oppressive central government could be abandoned; that the overweening powerlust of said government could be curtailed. For these observers, the concern was not the peculiar institution of particular (Southern) slavery, but the common institution of general slavery, the subjugation of individuals and peoples by an oppressive force. Again, I ask, did all those people have to die to end slavery? No. It was already dying itself, and would have vanished soon enough. But the further and more bitter reason that they did not have to die was that their death-for-abolition has proved to be meaningless; less than meaningless, for Lincoln's victory was the start of the ever-growing federal government. Today, the President declares the right to summarily order the assassination of American citizens abroad; to imprison "enemy detainees" indefinitely and tortuously; to declare war as he pleases, making the Armed Forces a veritable Praetorian Guard; the draft, though not in force, continues to be an issue; the income tax is still around. Before the Civil War, the United States of America was referred to in the plural, but now it is singular; the original concept of having different states to suit the needs and desires of different peoples is gone, as the states are little more than departments of the federal government. America has become an empire, who now spreads its force to other peoples, such as Iraqis and Afghanis, and essentially rules much of the world. The people who died so that the Union may stay together and that the enslavement of a portion of people were actually sacrificed in the name of strengthening the general bondage of all people. Lincoln waged a war for continued union no matter the resolution of slavery, and he won; the United States of America remained together, and we are all the more oppressed for it.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

My Initials Can Determine the Length of Christina Hendricks' Pregnancy (if She Ever Is).

Pretty soon after creating this blog, I did a Google search to see if it would appear. I first used my full name, and this came up:
She knows what you did, and does not approve (well, maybe a little).
 
This is Christina Hendricks, actress on "Mad Men" and all around beauty. If I were to undergo a sex change, I would not mind looking like this.
I happened to glance a little farther down the search list, and spokeo.com had some statistics on "Christian Hendricks." There are at least 26 people blessed with this moniker; I, apparently, am not one of them, for it did not show me on their map. Of these people, 16 are male and 1 is female, which leaves a curious 9 people as either hermaphrodites, transgenders, or something else. . . a curiously large proportion for a single name. Here is the link:

(There are apparently Christian Hendricks movies.)
 
But nowhere was my blog (because what's the point of looking past the first page of a search?). Then I thought that, since I sign with my initials (C.R.H.), I would Google those letters. I found this:


Corticotropin-releasing hormone (formerly known as corticotropin-releasing factor) "is produced by parvocellular neuroendocrine cells (which are contained within the paraventricular nucleus) of the hypothalamus and is released at the median eminence from neurosecretory terminals of these neurons into the primary capillary plexus of the hypothalamo-hypophyseal portal system." In other words, stuff happens, your brain responds, and secretes this 41-amino acid peptide thing. I'll leave you to read the rest of it.

How about we end with a thing of beauty:


Bad me, bad me! (slaps hand with other hand). I mean, this link:


A stunning video of the firmaments of the Milky Way as seen from the Spanish mountain El Teide, by Terje Sorgjerd.

(Blogger's note: I in no way condone the objectification of women. Though I am not a feminist, I do recognize that they are people too.)

The Future Keeps Sucking Me In

It hasn't even been a year since I created an account on Facebook. I resisted doing it, because I didn't particularly like being so exposed, nor did I want it to replace my physical interactions. However, I now check Facebook at least twice a day and, well, look, I'm even blogging now. Because I am better with written words than I am with spoken ones. Because I have quite a few words to toss at this world. Because I have reverberating ideas. Because my physical room is not large enough. This blog is entitled "Ego Chamber," because it is of me, by me, and for me; it of course also refers to an "echo chamber, "a hollow enclosure used to produce echoing sounds" (thank you Wikipedia for the much-needed obvious). I will be overjoyed if people read this, but if not, I will at least have the tenor sounds of my voice-in-writing to listen to.