The third week is about to commence and I’ve noticed an evolution in my temperament.
Throughout the first week, I was overwhelmed and drowning in anxiety. Midway through the second week I was at peace with the daunting hurricane of information whirling around, threatening to destroy me.
Now? Serenity.
Well, almost. I’ve regained my composure, anyway. Many people prognosticated this, insisting that I’d feel better once I developed a study groove. I think it’s something else, though. I still haven’t determined which study methods/patterns/routines work best just yet. Rather, I think my brain is reconnecting its old synapses from college. For two years it’s been out of practice, forgetting how to remember. Learning is itself a learning curve, and my brain fell off the wagon. It’s that old neuroscience aphorism: use it or lose it.
In short, my brain couldn’t handle the extreme bandwidth of information coming its way. As time goes on, it’s becoming more “fit” and proficient, so the knowledge thrust its way is more easily accommodated. I feel less stupid.
One consequence of all this is that I have more free time for trumpet. I’m still not certain I can allot 4 (or 6?) hours a week for concert band rehearsals, but the audition is on September 23rd, and I’m nearly in shape already. The audition piece is a cinch, and really plays to my strengths. It’s a lyrical, expressive excerpt from a piece called “A Hymn for the Lost and the Living.” Barring some unforeseen confound, I think I’ll nail it.
On a side note, I have to wonder to what extent I irritate my housemates when I practice. I always ask them beforehand if they mind (and I make sure they’re not studying), but you never know.
In anatomy, we’ve covered the musculoskeletal/integumentary/circulatory/nervous/lymphatic structures of the back, neck, shoulder, arm and hand (yes, in 2 weeks). Every once in a while, an anatomical term will really amuse me. For instance: hold your hand out and extend your thumb back toward you. Do you see that little pocket of skin formed by the tendons between your thumb and your wrist? That’s called the “anatomical snuffbox.” Snuff, as in powdered tobacco that people snorted back in the day (sometimes out of the “anatomical snuffbox,” too).