Oleoptene

Identity

Mara Collins — Tue, 05 Nov 2013 18:23:42 +0000

So like the apocryphal zebra who cannot figure out if he is white with black stripes or black with white stripes, I sometimes wonder if I am a violinist who writes or a writer who plays violin. Which may not be the meaningful question at all, but still, I started wondering if another way to ask is by asking if you would know more about who I am by the music I listen to or by the books I read? Of course, maybe trying to know who someone is by their possessions/associations/fandoms is a little high school, and I should have outgrown that by now? But I always like it when a detective in a book can go into a suspect/victim’s apartment and within minutes explain fundamental things about the person’s character just based on a savvy analysis of her stuff.

Moral Fiction

Mara Collins — Thu, 31 Oct 2013 16:57:23 +0000

It’s amazing having some of my most interesting conversations be with my children. The fourteen year old got dragged along with me to go buy the youngest a Halloween costume this week and I love his take on things like the differences between Greek and Norse mythology and his tossing about the term “manic pixie dream girl“. And he remarked how he still didn’t understand how anyone could prefer the original Star Trek to the Next Generation and the conversation about that was interesting, because I remember feeling exactly the same, since I was about his age when the Next Generation aired, and it was so much more thoughtful, the moral dilemmas and intellectual puzzles, the ideas in it that were more philosophical than any other popular drama I can think of, before or since. But I have grown to prefer the characters in the original series, and didn’t even realize it until he made this remark. The characters of the original series were more flawed, and somehow more human. I rushed through Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch and don’t want to give anything away about the book, but I admire the way she can take a character who has some good traits and some major flaws and find him a redemption that is neither annoying nor unbelievable. And that the redemption shines a light on the question of what it is to be “good” and why. I admired the television show Breaking Bad but could never quite get over the tension of rooting for someone whose goodness got harder and harder to find. Is there a way to tell an interesting story, a good story with characters who lack major flaws?

Interrogating Fears

Mara Collins — Wed, 30 Oct 2013 17:43:39 +0000

If I say to myself, “I think I’m scared of being ordinary” what does that mean to me? Does it drive the sort of weird slacker ambition I secretly nurse? What is scary about ordinariness?

Another Book One

Mara Collins — Tue, 29 Oct 2013 17:40:23 +0000

Bouncing between reading “classics” and books published this year, it occurs to me that there is a deep difference in structure, that at one point a novel would be narration set here and there with vignettes and now novels read like the transcriptions of movies, with a progression of scenes. This is as true for children’s literature as adult literature. Is narration dying?

From a Conversation with a Friend

Mara Collins — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 17:40:13 +0000

Why is it that appreciation seems to be easier to give and receive in marriage than deep, unwavering acceptance?

Cross Dressing

Mara Collins — Thu, 24 Oct 2013 19:22:25 +0000

Devouring the new Donna Tartt novel in a happy rush; I think about this… She writes a first person narrative with a teenaged boy POV and it isn’t distracting or weird; how many novels by men have I been convinced by a female narrator/POV?

The Interesting Question

Mara Collins — Mon, 21 Oct 2013 05:19:21 +0000

The nine year old has no patience anymore for “How was your day?” For “Got much homework?” “Ask an interesting question, Mom!” I’ve tried, “Would you rather be able to breathe underwater or to fly?” And “If our house had one more room, what would you want that room to be?” In a bit of a reach “If there were a war between four legged animals and birds and insects whose side would you be on?” He reciprocated, “What’s your least favorite sentence you have read?” What questions are interesting and appropriate for me to ask my little boy?

Limits

Mara Collins — Fri, 18 Oct 2013 19:06:28 +0000

So yesterday’s lesson, my third with my first/only student, was the first one that didn’t go exactly as I planned, and, oddly, I’m grateful, since I learned I could handle it without getting flustered or frustrated, and keep things positive, even when she wasn’t doing what I wanted her to do. What I’m more grateful for is the unexpected gift of mentorship from my little sister who has fifteen years of teaching experience and a philosophy that matches my own about how when things don’t work it’s pretty much always the adult who has the power, and thus the responsibility, to change things so that they can work, and she was amazing about both being positive about how I described handling things, and helping give an interpretation of my student’s behavior as being a signal of not being comfortable and suggest different ways to respond to it. So I aspire to her compassion and insight. And my question this morning is about whether I am comfortable moving my own set point for control a little. I can still hear voices in my head that are maybe less “Kids need to show adults respect and know that adults are calling the shots” and more “Kids feel safe when they trust the adults have the situation and hand and the adults set clear, consistent limits.” But when I have an idea about what is going to work in a violin lesson and not a lot of experience, yet, to back it up, can I have the sort of firmness that is the adult responsibility in the lesson, and also the flexibility to listen to what the student is telling me and respond and do what she needs? How do I know which ideas to hold on to and which ideas to let go of?

Orthodoxy

Mara Collins — Thu, 17 Oct 2013 18:00:15 +0000

Today’s question is how do you resist the quick way that “what works for you” becomes orthodoxy? I struggle to negotiate the differences between how my violin teacher does things and how my kids’ teacher does things, how the teacher trainer who I worked with this summer does things. I keep telling myself: if as a parent I am consistent and support the way the kids’ teacher wants them to practice, if another teacher later in their life wants to switch some things around (and there will be other teachers and they will do things in different ways), my kids will be good enough violinists that they can do it. That all of our understandings of how the violin works are imperfect, and the fear I have of being guilty of some gross malpractice and setting a student up in a way that causes problems later on isn’t really realistic, because that isn’t how it works. I am a good enough mother, but not a perfect mother, and I am doing my best to be a good enough teacher, and it’s still important to keep examining that fear.

The Economics of Art

Mara Collins — Wed, 16 Oct 2013 13:39:35 +0000

Teaching the kids to spend their money wisely, I sometimes try to get them to ask themselves how many hours of enjoyment they will get for each dollar spent. It’s not an exact science, but I was aware when they were little that Legos cost more than most toys but got played with so much longer that they had a greater value than other toys. This may be why we have so many books. But at a concert recently it occurred to me that there’s this other way to look at the economics of art when you consider how many years of training and struggle each person in an orchestra has gone through to be up on stage performing for you similarly, when you buy a book by a first time writer how many unpublished books and moments of doubt and working a job hated to support writing are you also buying? So how do we spend money now to secure those amazing moments of reading, listening, looking, watching in the future?