I’m still here!


Hello! Are you still there? I just finished my Masters in Choral Conducting at Western Illinois University. This semester (the year in general) has been non-stop, but the good this is I crossed the finish line. Who would have thought that I would actually finish a Masters Degree in music AND focus said masters degree in the relationship between literature, culture and music?!

I’m really excited for what the future holds. I am (re)re-editing my last paper, which hopefully will be published soon. Also, I’m  starting a job in Des Moines, Iowa as a teacher in the area.

A lot is happening, but I can assure you will continue to hear from me!

-mp.

As the birds fly home for winter, so do I.


As the birds fly home for winter, so do I.

They cherish the moment in where they go and flee from the cold, for a brief moment, but remember why they flew out in the first place. The thing is, Puerto Rico- where I live, lies in the perfect spot in the Caribbean. It has perfect sunsets, copious amounts of beautiful beaches, colorful people, in short as many locals call it in social media #paradise. The problem does not lie in the beautiful, geographic aspect of the island, no; the problem lies in its economical stress and little job opportunities creating an unstable environment, where the happiest island on Earth is tormented by metal illness, poverty, and constant forced exile.

When I was in my undergrad, I went to the InterAmerican University Metro campus, where an alumni gave a conference about musical therapy. While I was toying with the idea of applying once more to graduate school to further my musical studies, one thing stuck to me about his keynote presentation. “Sadly, we (all of you who are sitting and are close to my age) are the generation of lost dreams and forced exile.” In this economy, which  it worldwide, everybody in their “prime” (age group 21-35) are leaving Puerto Rico. Why? Because we cannot find a job. Cost of living is high, and if you find yourself lucky, the first job opportunity are offered is… a cashier in a fast food establishment. Not saying that this is not a stable income or unworthy employment, but I am talking individuals with Doctoral degrees, Masters degrees, doctors, lawyers, teachers are either at these types of jobs or homeless. I’ve read before that “the island of enchantment”, as we call our country, is one of the most educated places in the world, while simultaneously have these individuals flee from our island, myself included, to find better opportunities. Area of Choice? The United States. 

It is in the United States where, compared to Puerto Rico, one can do the same job, but twice as much than in PR. While the grass is always greener on the other side, families are forced to find jobs in the US for they want to have a better life. The sad aspect of this is what we leave behind. A rich culture that we have to try to carry with us alongside our traditions. Friends and families, as in my case go somewhere alone where nobody knows you and start from scratch. Essentially, a life. And go to uncharted lands and start anew. Most people fail and have to go back and try to make amends, but most of us. We thrive. We make most of the situation and fight for what we want, but as nature intends we fly home for winter. Even if it’s for a small window of time, we fly home, visit where we come from and know that our sacrifices will not be in vain. That our sacrifices makes us stronger, and it’s there where we are unique. It is there where we are resilient. And in resilience, there is power.

-mp

A haiku from a second year graduate student.


Wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve updated. That’s what Graduate School does to you. You’re constantly, as a professor calls it, in crisis management mode. Between writing papers, constant research, reading articles, music ensembles, and office hours you can lose track of time. This happens to an extreme if you add constant Netflix adventures.

It is because of my long leave of absence that I will share with you a haiku from a second year graduate student.


he watches
sadly in despair
he sighs
work is not done

and just for fun, let’s have another one!

Help me,
so much to read
to do
is it break already?

-mp

Silage


Wandering through the foggy woodland
breathing the musty sods
twilight is upon us
skulking through murky, moldy dunes

A bridge is upon us,
filled by webs and fueled by decay
creakingly pivoting,
summoned by the dark, looming loch

Walking through the unstable path,
fixed upon the scrutiny of the unknown
-the fae beckons-
as you slowly gather up the storm

Walk, and walk you must
through the darkness you shall pass
until the shire comes at last
until your truth unfolds
until the embers dim to you

 

A flurry of wind…


Collapse the mirrors of your soul
walk through the valley and inhale…

Recite the numbers in your head
walk through the pastures, but wait…

Cliffs of Varengeville - Claude Monet

Cliffs of Varengeville – Claude Monet

A wind flurry is stirring ahead
feel nature at its best
recite the numbers out loud
– one, two, three-     I’ve found
a gust of wind caressing my skin
as the valley closes and I, breath

At the edge you’ll find
tension rising
catharsis releasing
wind billowing, stirring, and whirling

If you step off,
the wind will embrace you,
inhibitions will falter and
peace remains

-MP

Mi Placer


Amanda Mininger

The first thing I do is find out where I’m going.

My boyfriend is watching the in-flight movie but I’ve got the airline magazine in my hands, scanning and re-scanning the maps at the back. For some reason, the location of Puerto Rico does not want to stick in my mind. Near Cuba? South of Florida? Geography and globes and maps lure me—I want to know the world—so the fact that Puerto Rico is still an unknown feels itchy. All I know is that Hunter S. Thompson wrote Rum Diary after living in San Juan for a time. And anything for which my only reference point is Hunter S. Thompson surely needs more studying.

As we cruise at 37,000 feet, I try to guess the flight pattern from Dallas to San Juan. We must be flying along the coastlines of Louisiana and Mississippi, then down across the Gulf and over…

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For future Remembrance


The wind, as time, does not pause
nor the sky
or the stars

As summer falls to autumn
you travel
through chapters,
through life

For future remembrance
think not of what challenges come your way,
in the pebbles in your path
in the troubles of the past

but

Think of the victories, and
ponder on the possibilities
the gamble of your play
contemplate on the adventures, and
lessons that’ll come your way

Anticipate the success,
the possible loss
the love
the heartbreak

Child,
For future remembrance
anticipate… life

the ode of henry


A friend of mine wrote this. I love it!

conceptual wanderings

Have you ever noticed that birds enjoy the morning? They sing as the run rises and fly about catching worms and other small insects they can take back to their nest to feed their young. Even on my morning runs, they are flying about from one place to another, grabbing food or twigs to add to their nest. Many birds like to chirp as the sun rises, just like a rooster. In a way, it is a nice way to help wake you up for early morning chores or duties.

Some birds like to get started before the sun rises. At what time does this occur? Between 4:00am-4:30am of course! Every morning, Henry (that is what I have chosen to name this bird), sits outside my apartment and chirps. While most birds stay in one place, Henry likes to be an adventurer. He flys from one window ledge to the…

View original post 444 more words

The singing tattoo


 

Singing tatoo

The verses tattooed on your soul
captive in your piercing gaze
let them be
let them free
let them fly
let them soar

The song of your life
a prisoner of the war
-the turmoil boiling in you-
let it breathe
let it sing
let it perform
let it live
-MP

A classic poem takes a new (musical) flight


A dear friend of mine, who shall remain in anonymity, once showed me e.e. cummings’ i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart). As clichéd as it sounds, I loved it. In the course of this past semester, I enrolled in a composition class. In this class put my big boy pants, and I set this poem to music. It was an uphill battle (choosing the singers, rehearsal time) in short, a battle. I won the battle and the war! Here is the finished product, while not perfect, it is pretty darn close. I hope this a start of a new, complementary chapter in my life.

If you want to commission me for a choral piece, do not hesitate in doing so! Without further ado, i carry your heart with me (i carry it my heart).

Text:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Singers:

Sopranos:

Alison Huntley
Lydia Lewis
Mariah Chapdelaine
Elizabeth Peregrine

Altos:

Carolee Stark
Abiagil Landau
Jessica Moore
Jazmine Hamilton

Tenors:

Tyler Hast
Thomas Heise
Arturo Martinez
Eric Mohlis

Basses:

Johnnie Campbell
Ethan Q. Ivey
Jordan DePatis
Jack Dessent

José Clavell, conductor

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