Sunday, July 14, 2013
My Bucket List and my Studi Di Lingua Italiano
As a person reaches that ripe old age of fifty something happens that brings that old bucket list more clearly into focus. I'm sure it's partly because you know you aren't really middle aged, for how many of us actually live to be 100. Yes there is something about 50 that creates that much welcomed sense of urgency that taps you on the shoulder every day and says, hey ... do you remember all that stuff you always said you wanted to do with your life... well you better get to it because you're running low on time outs and every day someone is trying to get the ball away from you to run their own set of plays. So when you feel that pressure take a firm grasp of those helmet ear holes, slide that helmet on your head, fasten the chin strap then call a play. And for God's sake break that huddle, place your hands under center, call the signals and run the damn play no matter what defense has been called on the other side of the ball.
Almost exactly a year ago this week I began to seriously study singing American Classic Jazz Standards. What led me to this glorious and fulfilling endeavor? Well I've been kind of a frustrated crooner my whole adult life getting the opportunity to scratch those sub-dermal itches at the occasional family wedding and party from time to time. One thing led to another and as luck would have it a dear friend invited me to sing with him at a neighborhood little league fund raiser. Fortunately for me I'm surrounded by dear friends and family who have always urged me to do this more seriously , most of whom attended the fund raiser and have seen me perform in the past. In 2012 I finally heeded their advice and took up singing more seriously. Since then I've had the great fortune to study with a true maestro and to perform in venues that go beyond the occasional family gathering. This has been one of the most life affirming experiences I've ever had. It's something I've been able to check off my bucket list or, at the very least, say its a work in progress that I hope will carry me as far as my vocal chords will allow.
Fast forward to this summer. Yet another itch has been slowly working its way to the surface. Since I was a second generation Italian boy growing up in a predominantly Italian neighborhood with grandparents and parents who spoke Italian when they didn't want us to know what they were talking about, I've always wanted to know how to speak fluent, Florentine style Italian. Nothing against the Italian that is spoken in southern Italy, but I figure if you are going to do it, keep it pure and simple. Dialects will follow in their due course as the need arises. So now here I am, eyebrows deep in Italian language books that run the gamut from verb conjugation, grammar, vocabulary, usage and believe it or not, simple Italian book readers. This is truly learning by immersion, much like they do it in the CIA. Since starting this journey I've surrounded myself with Italian movies, music and everyday usage. I'm driving my wife and friends crazy because I've taken to only texting in Italian thereby forcing them to translate my messages and respond only in Italiano. Fun for me, for them, not so much.
Long story short, this journey into teaching myself Italian has filled whatever free time I can muster with a tantalizing challenge that has been replete with frustration, reward, but most of all, flat out satisfaction and fun. It has become so much a part of me that I literally try to say every English sentence I utter in Italian either to myself or out loud. I'm far from crossing this off the bucket list because I've not yet achieved any level of fluency. However I'm well only my way and become better every day.
A very wise man once told me that there is really no teaching, there is only learning. What he meant was if you truly burn to learn something bad enough you will go out and find a way to learn it. That has never been truer than it is today with YouTube, Amazon, Barnes and Nobel, and the ever expansive and omnipresent internet.
So go check that bucket list of yours and commit to do at least one thing right now. If you truly want to learn it the tools are there. Use them and by the end of 2013 you will be amazed and fulfilled by how far you've come.
Please stay tuned for more Musings from Studio 618. If you like like them please tell a friend.
All my very best,
Anthony
Almost exactly a year ago this week I began to seriously study singing American Classic Jazz Standards. What led me to this glorious and fulfilling endeavor? Well I've been kind of a frustrated crooner my whole adult life getting the opportunity to scratch those sub-dermal itches at the occasional family wedding and party from time to time. One thing led to another and as luck would have it a dear friend invited me to sing with him at a neighborhood little league fund raiser. Fortunately for me I'm surrounded by dear friends and family who have always urged me to do this more seriously , most of whom attended the fund raiser and have seen me perform in the past. In 2012 I finally heeded their advice and took up singing more seriously. Since then I've had the great fortune to study with a true maestro and to perform in venues that go beyond the occasional family gathering. This has been one of the most life affirming experiences I've ever had. It's something I've been able to check off my bucket list or, at the very least, say its a work in progress that I hope will carry me as far as my vocal chords will allow.
Fast forward to this summer. Yet another itch has been slowly working its way to the surface. Since I was a second generation Italian boy growing up in a predominantly Italian neighborhood with grandparents and parents who spoke Italian when they didn't want us to know what they were talking about, I've always wanted to know how to speak fluent, Florentine style Italian. Nothing against the Italian that is spoken in southern Italy, but I figure if you are going to do it, keep it pure and simple. Dialects will follow in their due course as the need arises. So now here I am, eyebrows deep in Italian language books that run the gamut from verb conjugation, grammar, vocabulary, usage and believe it or not, simple Italian book readers. This is truly learning by immersion, much like they do it in the CIA. Since starting this journey I've surrounded myself with Italian movies, music and everyday usage. I'm driving my wife and friends crazy because I've taken to only texting in Italian thereby forcing them to translate my messages and respond only in Italiano. Fun for me, for them, not so much.
Long story short, this journey into teaching myself Italian has filled whatever free time I can muster with a tantalizing challenge that has been replete with frustration, reward, but most of all, flat out satisfaction and fun. It has become so much a part of me that I literally try to say every English sentence I utter in Italian either to myself or out loud. I'm far from crossing this off the bucket list because I've not yet achieved any level of fluency. However I'm well only my way and become better every day.
A very wise man once told me that there is really no teaching, there is only learning. What he meant was if you truly burn to learn something bad enough you will go out and find a way to learn it. That has never been truer than it is today with YouTube, Amazon, Barnes and Nobel, and the ever expansive and omnipresent internet.
So go check that bucket list of yours and commit to do at least one thing right now. If you truly want to learn it the tools are there. Use them and by the end of 2013 you will be amazed and fulfilled by how far you've come.
Please stay tuned for more Musings from Studio 618. If you like like them please tell a friend.
All my very best,
Anthony
Bridges and Dreams - Both take their toll, both lead us somewhere.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis and dream interpretation once said, "The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind". Those of us who happen to subscribe to this theory have a tendency to pay a lot more attention to those dramas that play out nightly in our heads. We tend to remember our dreams more vividly and are curious to know more about just what it was they were trying to tell us.
Freud believed that what happens in your dreams is the subconscious representation of unresolved issues in your life. Sometimes our dreams seem disconnected and obtuse while other times their message seems more overt and obvious. Freud's studies have shown that through psychoanalysis and diagnosis of what ailed his patients he was able to tie the content of their dreams to things they are yet to resolve in real life. He postulated that all of our dreams can hold the answer to identifying our fears and inhibitions giving us the ammunition to stare them down and slay them once and for all.
Which brings me to this past weekend.
I've spent my entire life living in the Philadelphia area. One of the main bridges that connects center city Philadelphia with southern New Jersey is the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I cross this bridge quite frequently going to and from Philadelphia. For at least a decade or more this bridge has played a starring role in many of my dreams. The dream isn't always the same but there is always some conflict associated with me being on the bridge. Even more confusing is that I am never in my car but instead on a bicycle, or on foot. (I think it's important to note here that you can cross the bridge both ways in real life but I've never tried either.) The dream conflicts have been any one of the following issues and many more. Once the bridge kept rising in height the closer I got to the middle until my head was in the clouds. Another was the bridge not having anything really firm under foot thereby dumping me into the river below. Most disturbing was finally getting to the other side and finding I'm in a strange place filled with threats wherever I turn and I can't figure out which direction provides the surest path to safety. Yeah I know...crazy huh?
This Friday night I'm out with my softball buddies and one of the guys suggests that Saturday afternoon we walk over the bridge into Philly, hangout in the city and make a day of it. Unbeknownst to him is my dream history with this bridge. Needless to say, I was immediately intrigued and accepted the invitation instantly. Finally, I thought to myself, I get a chance to explore this enigma head on without the filter of sleep to dictate the direction of the narrative. Come Saturday afternoon at 2:00 pm sharp me and two of my buds arrive at the stairs at the foot of the New Jersey side of the bridge. It was a cloudy day with a steady early spring breeze. The temperature was warm and a little humid with the threat of thunderstorms at any moment. How apropos I thought, as I stood face to face with the big blue iron Goliath. As I climbed the stairs I glanced ahead at the walking path that seemed to go on forever as it disappeared into the horizon. Just then the anxiety that's been so prevalent in my dreams began to tighten my chest and quicken my pulse. The people who run, walk or cycle this path every day may never understand what I was feeling. But then they've never had this bridge dump them into the river, shoot them through clouds or drop them off in never land as I have. Despite the jelly in my quads I took one step forward then another. Soon I was a third of the way up the bridge and still shaky but invigorated by the challenge, my buds just a few steps ahead. As we approached the center of the bridge the breeze got stronger and the skyline of the city looked close enough to touch. With each step I became more comfortable and began making stops to take photographs. Down on the river the sailboats looked like toys, while the cars thundered by on the road just below us. As we began the descent of the final leg in to Philadelphia I felt incredible. I started thinking of Freud and all the books I've read over the years about dream analysis. I began to wonder if I had once and for all exorcised this demon and eliminated these bridge dreams from my subconscious play list once and for all.
Had I finally paid the toll both literally and spiritually? It's hard to say. This one is going to take some time to prove out. I'm guessing I've had the bridge dream about 5 to 6 times a year on average. The new clock started this Saturday night. If I go a whole year without one then I guess I'm on my way. You're just going to have to stay tuned if you want to know how this one turns out.
Oh, and did I mention, according to Freud, the bridge dreams may have nothing at all to do with any latent fear I had about walking across the bridge but something else entirely. In which case all I did on Saturday was burn a few extra calories which I immediately replaced by the cheeseburger, fries and two beers I had for lunch once we got to Philly. Oh brother.
Please stay tuned for more Musings From Studio 618 and if you like them please tell a friend.
All my very best.
Anthony
Freud believed that what happens in your dreams is the subconscious representation of unresolved issues in your life. Sometimes our dreams seem disconnected and obtuse while other times their message seems more overt and obvious. Freud's studies have shown that through psychoanalysis and diagnosis of what ailed his patients he was able to tie the content of their dreams to things they are yet to resolve in real life. He postulated that all of our dreams can hold the answer to identifying our fears and inhibitions giving us the ammunition to stare them down and slay them once and for all.
Which brings me to this past weekend.
I've spent my entire life living in the Philadelphia area. One of the main bridges that connects center city Philadelphia with southern New Jersey is the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I cross this bridge quite frequently going to and from Philadelphia. For at least a decade or more this bridge has played a starring role in many of my dreams. The dream isn't always the same but there is always some conflict associated with me being on the bridge. Even more confusing is that I am never in my car but instead on a bicycle, or on foot. (I think it's important to note here that you can cross the bridge both ways in real life but I've never tried either.) The dream conflicts have been any one of the following issues and many more. Once the bridge kept rising in height the closer I got to the middle until my head was in the clouds. Another was the bridge not having anything really firm under foot thereby dumping me into the river below. Most disturbing was finally getting to the other side and finding I'm in a strange place filled with threats wherever I turn and I can't figure out which direction provides the surest path to safety. Yeah I know...crazy huh?
This Friday night I'm out with my softball buddies and one of the guys suggests that Saturday afternoon we walk over the bridge into Philly, hangout in the city and make a day of it. Unbeknownst to him is my dream history with this bridge. Needless to say, I was immediately intrigued and accepted the invitation instantly. Finally, I thought to myself, I get a chance to explore this enigma head on without the filter of sleep to dictate the direction of the narrative. Come Saturday afternoon at 2:00 pm sharp me and two of my buds arrive at the stairs at the foot of the New Jersey side of the bridge. It was a cloudy day with a steady early spring breeze. The temperature was warm and a little humid with the threat of thunderstorms at any moment. How apropos I thought, as I stood face to face with the big blue iron Goliath. As I climbed the stairs I glanced ahead at the walking path that seemed to go on forever as it disappeared into the horizon. Just then the anxiety that's been so prevalent in my dreams began to tighten my chest and quicken my pulse. The people who run, walk or cycle this path every day may never understand what I was feeling. But then they've never had this bridge dump them into the river, shoot them through clouds or drop them off in never land as I have. Despite the jelly in my quads I took one step forward then another. Soon I was a third of the way up the bridge and still shaky but invigorated by the challenge, my buds just a few steps ahead. As we approached the center of the bridge the breeze got stronger and the skyline of the city looked close enough to touch. With each step I became more comfortable and began making stops to take photographs. Down on the river the sailboats looked like toys, while the cars thundered by on the road just below us. As we began the descent of the final leg in to Philadelphia I felt incredible. I started thinking of Freud and all the books I've read over the years about dream analysis. I began to wonder if I had once and for all exorcised this demon and eliminated these bridge dreams from my subconscious play list once and for all.
Had I finally paid the toll both literally and spiritually? It's hard to say. This one is going to take some time to prove out. I'm guessing I've had the bridge dream about 5 to 6 times a year on average. The new clock started this Saturday night. If I go a whole year without one then I guess I'm on my way. You're just going to have to stay tuned if you want to know how this one turns out.
Oh, and did I mention, according to Freud, the bridge dreams may have nothing at all to do with any latent fear I had about walking across the bridge but something else entirely. In which case all I did on Saturday was burn a few extra calories which I immediately replaced by the cheeseburger, fries and two beers I had for lunch once we got to Philly. Oh brother.
Please stay tuned for more Musings From Studio 618 and if you like them please tell a friend.
All my very best.
Anthony
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