Silent Tunes

The main problem with this blog is that it's about me. Though I may be captivated by all that I write about me, I doubt that anyone else is. In fiction you can write about yourself under the guise of writing about made-up people.

I live in Budapest, Hungary; I'm here studying music. My father's a diplomat and was posted here for three years. When he got a new assignment in Africa (Libreville, Gabon) my older brother began attending college in the States (Notre Dame), and I decided to stay here. I study piano with a private teacher and attend a music high school for other subjects like solfege and music theory.

I'm interested in people. I enjoy watching them in the buses, on the sidewalks, and in the underpasses. I like listening to them. And I like writing about them. I haven't quite figured out yet how much of a person's art comes from themselves or from the people around them.

Because Daddy's in the Foreign Service, we've traveled a lot. I've lived overseas since I was five, with only relatively brief returns to the United States. This has had the result of making America a foreign country to me: strictly speaking, it is not my home. There really isn't a culture or society that I feel is my home, as I've grown up in so many. Being homeschooled has added to this effect.

I expect it would be good to thrown in a mention (for effect) at this point of the failed mutiny we lived through in Central Africa, and of the riot that took place when we were in China. The latter resulted in our being evacuated from our apartment behind the consulate to a hotel, and the former in our being evacuated back to the States, though in both cases Daddy had to stay behind. During the riot I remember being frightened by the burning down of the consul general's residence next door, and by the thought of how small the walls around our apartment building were. My brother and sisters slept through that night. During the mutiny, I recall continuous gun fire (I was ten at the time) and driving in a military truck through town and not being able to take off at first for Cameroon because of fighting near the airport.

On a final note, my favorite Agatha Christie mystery novel is And Then There Were None.

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		wSunday, February 08, 2004
		Due to the many requests for an update (well, two), I am hereby bestowing one upon my great public. Blast it. I really don't have much to write about. I had a piano exam, which could have gone better but which at least wasn't a complete disaster. I've started a Beethoven sonata which I really like. Oh yeah, and I got glasses. I hate them. Contacts are infinitely superior. But the doctor who examined my eyes said they weren't getting enough oxygen (probably because I didn't change my contacts as often as I should have) and that I needed to give them a rest for a month. So I should pass all of February in spectacles. I don't know how some people stand them all the time. Above, below, and around the lenses I still see fuzzy, and this is annoying. Also, if you're used to contacts, the first time you put glasses on makes you dizzy. That said, I think I'm vaguely beginning to get used to them. But I can't wait to switch back to blessed contacts. My family now has Internet at home in Gabon so I've been chatting and emailing with them a lot. Very nice. waves to Sarah How many of you dream your teachers are murderers and spies and on the run from the authorities? Actually, it was sort of exciting. But I think it shows a morbid streak. I entered a contest for free opera tickets on my favorite music web site (Fidelio.hu). All you had to do was answer a very easy opera question and your name would be entered in the drawing. I'm still waiting for the e-mail announcing that I won. Well maybe next time around... posted by Rebekkah at 12:07 PM

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