The Soundtrack of Life

Since I started commuting to and from work, the car stereo has taken a significant role in my day and I rely on it to accompany my particular mood of that moment of each day.

To start the day, my reluctant early morning drive is the perfect time for NPR's Morning Edition. Like clockwork, I turn the program on right after the headlights as I'm backing out of the driveway. Not one for hectic radio advertisements and peppy DJs, and especially not in the early a.m., my morning drive is the perfect time of the day to listen to the world news and interviews with the calm NPR voices.

After work, often I enjoy the silence as I let my mind run freely after a cramped day in cubicle conformity. Or I crank up a symphony or a Bach cantata and exercise my vocal chords by joining with the rich melodies and choruses as I enjoy the freedom of driving alone, away from the routine, into the sunset. At night, driving home after closing at my department store on-call jewelry sales job or after going out, the car becomes transformed into Heidi's Disco Car as I crank some techno or house mix tunes even louder.


Tonight as I drove home after the first conductor search committee meeting for the symphony, Brahms 3 poured loudly but gracefully through the speakers. Paired perfectly with the cool, but clear air of the early fall night, the emotion of the piece drew to the fore thoughts that have been circling through my head in a back and forth pattern for the past year.

I realized that I have just past the one year anniversary since my plane touched American soil. That landing had transported me back to a life living at home, with my parents, after being so independent. As my thoughts continued to swirl around this point, I thought of this blog, how its name "Destination Germany" is somehow so inappropriate, yet hard to change. Does it mean finally giving up my last bit of independence? Surrendering, at least temporarily, that part of me who took the plunge and moved abroad, not worrying what might happen if I didn't get accepted into a music conservatory?

I still don't know what the near future holds. Frankly, a lot of these things decide themselves simply because of my situation - paying back loans and gaining precious orchestral experience. But how long will I stay in this part of Iowa? Will I take a large leap and move to a big city elsewhere with no secure playing opportunity lined up (after saving up more money, of course)? Will I ever move to Germany again? If I stay in Northwest Iowa, will I finally get an apartment in Sioux City? Will I ever use my music or German degrees in a day job? How long will I be a legal secretary? Would I ever be interested in studying a new subject completely different (yet perhaps more practical...)?

Constantly different scenarios play through my mind going back and forth like a furious "he loves me, he loves me not" flower petal plucking session. One moment I come to a solid conclusion and the next minute, I chuckle to myself as I realize how it couldn't work right now or maybe not at all. Like with the decision to put in Romantic Oboe Sonatas or the soundtrack from Le Divorce, sometimes the decisions of my future change just as easily as what CD to stick in the stereo at that particular moment of the day. But last night with Brahms 3 filling every inch of the car, emotion spilling out of the speakers like the yolk out of a cracked egg (I know...a stretch), somehow none of those decisions matter and for that moment it's okay to just keep doing what I'm doing. I am content.

Then I wake up early the next morning, turn on NPR's Morning Edition as I'm backing out the driveway, still half-asleep. I sip my coffee, listen to the news and morning interviews, and prepare myself for a new day where the whole thought process will just begin again.

Wedding Bells...

(....not mine) rang last weekend.

A high school and later Univ. of Iowa friend of mine got married Saturday. Not only was the wedding and reception beautiful, and Amanda and her new husband were walking on clouds, it was a great chance for the rest of the high school gang to get together and socialize, as well as meet some new people. While stuck on another continent, I went to a couple interesting and fun weddings (one in Germany, one in Poland) but missed out in weddings of three good friends at home, which I still regret. So I had a really nice time...

That was, however, until they called us un-married folks down to the dance floor for the necessary bouquet-tossing. Nestling myself safely into the back row, I believed I would be safe from catching the dreaded bundle that may as well have had thorns. Little did I know that there might be other singles trying desperately to avoid the flowers like the plague, as well. I found that out the hard way when a (heavier) young lady standing next to me jumped out of the way of the bouquet, which, incidentally, was not even heading in our direction. Losing her balance, she landed squarely on my foot with her high heel. I yelped in pain and hobbled off the dance floor over to the bartender who indulged me in a plastic cup of ice to set on my throbbing foot. A few days later, I still can't bend my toes all the way, but at least I can walk normally on it again...

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More later...symphony rehearsals this week will dominate my evenings (and means for reed making and practicing now!)...

Broken Up Routine

The drive from home to Sioux City, where I work, is a 35 minute drive. I generally take the same, dull route each time I drive in and out of Sioux City. Unfortunately, the main road through Sioux City has been torn up and is down to one lane because of construction all summer, bringing a certain amount of aggression out in me. This is especially so when I get stuck behind a slow semi-truck in the one lane not blocked off with construction cones, or, heaven forbid, a train during rush hour.

So my morning rush down the highway comes to a slow grind upon entering the city when the traffic line-up begins. By the time I turn out of the construction zone and whiz into downtown, I zip in and out of traffic, fly into the parking ramp and slam to a screeching halt into a parking space. Then I grab my coffee and my lunch and run down two flights of stairs in the parking ramp before jaunting across the street and up the elevator (of which I have gotten stuck two times in two months) into the our third-floor office. Why not leave a little bit earlier and not be so rushed every morning? Good question.

Anyway, comparatively, my drive home in the evening is much more relaxed without the time pressure. So with the extra-relaxed feeling after a sporadic yoga session after work the other night, I decided to change things up a little by taking a different route out of town and thus avoiding the usual industrial view.

Aside from a few picturesque sections of town, the city is more functional than handsome, so I was happily transported into another world as I took the hilly tree-lined drive past historically-preserved huge brick houses with their sprawling porches, lovely huge cathedrals, and even past a enchanted cream-colored building with a perfectly manicured lawn which could have been convent out of a European picture book. I peered to see what the building was and upon seeing the sign, I learned that it is the cathedral and elementary school where my deceased boss's children attend school.

Little did I know that this other world existed in the industrial city. As I crept along, craning my neck in this direction and that, not wanting to miss anything in my new found wonderland, I contemplated moving into the city for the first time. It would make sense, eliminating my stressful morning commute. Also now that the symphony season is starting next week, it would be nice to be able to go home instead of listlessly occupying myself for the two hours between work and rehearsals. I'd be closer to almost everything, including a bit more action, and best of all, I could finally get a dog. Maybe I could even live on a bus line so I could avoid having to buy a car.

I had always avoided the idea of moving to Sioux City first of all because living at home is the best money-saving option. Also, I felt if I were ever going to get away from Northwest Iowa again, I would rather not throw money out the window by paying rent in a city I don't particularly like. But, now that it appears spending another year here at home is again the best option, I have again mulled over the possibility of moving into my own place. Truth be told, I'm happy at home. It's comfortable and it's cheap. But I've more than established myself in Sioux City for the time being and it might be nice to be closer to everything and not spend so much on gas. Did I mention I could get a dog then?

But unless I find a roommate, which for a day sounded like it could maybe be my brother, I don't think this will come to fruition. Because despite the convenience, I still refuse to waste money on an expensive studio apartment if I can live at home for free. At least now if I do decide to make the move, I know a neighborhood I want to live in!