Soy Mocha and an Apple
What’s better than an extra grande (read: overflowing) steaming soy mocha in the morning at a new favorite spot of mine here in Alexandria, Louisiana? I’m at the new Hastings here in town, which is absolutely fantastic due to the free Wi-Fi they have. Oh, and did I mention that their soy mocha is soy mochalicious? Enough of that. I think I just burned my tongue.
Why am I in Alexandria and not in Northwest Arkansas, you ask? My mom’s birthday is on 9/21, so I decided to do one of my “surprise, I’m here” visits. (And that makes me her favorite son! Well, I’m the only son, so she doesn’t have much of a choice, does she?) Of course, my mom was clueless. Another successful surprise visit! (I think the last time I did this was a couple of years ago. I did an 8-hour drive, though. Flying is definitely much more relaxing but, ahem, more ouch in the wallet.) My dad was in on the surprise, of course. He picked me up last night from AEX. It’s an “international airport”, without the international feel. It’s rather small but pretty, with all the columns and southern charm.
Moving back to my main topic–well, soy mocha is grand and all, but my that isn’t my main talk right now. I’d like to talk about Apple. Not the fruit. To be more specific, I have a confession to make. I’m a new Mac user. Hold it! What? Another PC-to-Mac convert? Before you start dumping buckets of holy PC water on me to cleanse me from whatever computing transgression you think I’m carrying, hear me out. I don’t profess to be a “convert”. Sure, there’s this saying that “once you go Mac, you never go back,” I don’t think this really applies to me. I’m still an avid PC user. Always have been. That’s what I’ve used all these years in school and work, for PC’s sake! However, like what I said in my previous blog (which is over a month old, I think–and was written in the same Hastings I’m in now), I’ve been looking into doing some iPhone app development. And getting a Mac is one way to do it.
Now, I know some of you would say that I could have gone the Hackintosh way. Yup, you’re right. I could have. But I decided that I might as well get a Mac for personal use. Like I said, I use PCs at work. I do have another Windows laptop at home, an old Dell that weighs a ton and runs XP (which is sooo much better than Vista, as you know) but the LCD screen had given up on me, and I had not repaired it (nor have the desire to, anyway… maybe someday). I do have a Sony Vaio laptop, which I’ve already sold to a friend, so technically it’s not mine anymore although it still sits on my computer desk at home. After looking at all the available Mac notebooks, I ended up buying the 13″ MacBook Pro (Intel Core 2 Duo, 2.53 GHz, 4 GB, Snow Leopard OS). It was a close call between the 13″ and the comparable 15″. Only 2 inches difference!!! But, after trying out the 13″ MacBook Pro on the plane yesterday, I think the size is just perfect, especially if you’re not flying first class! I also could have opted for a Mac mini. But I can’t see myself lugging around a monitor, keyboard, and mouse along with the small Mac machine everywhere I go, even though that’s possible. Can you imagine me setting up shop in a corner of a Hastings (or whatever bookstore that has Wi-Fi, or a McDonald’s) with all that hardware? Ok, maybe you can. Not the point.
There’s quite a difference between Mac and Windows, obviously. One thing that really gets me annoyed is the keyboard shortcuts. I’ve been so used to using Windows keyboard shortcuts that it takes some time for me to get used to the Mac’s. I know I can modify Mac’s keyboard shortcuts to my liking. That I’m still working on. I guess I’ve become so dependent on using keyboard shortcuts that it’s second nature to me.
One of the things that I like about the Mac (maybe it’s just in the new Mac OS X Snow Leopard? You have to forgive me. I’m still a Mac newbie…) is “Spaces” that allows you to have multiple desktops for those who can’t seem to live with only one, or for those who don’t know how to keep organized with one. I had used multi-desktop before with some flavors of Unix window managers. In Windows (XP, Vista), I had downloaded an application that did the same thing, but I think the implementation on the Mac is smoother and more elegant, in my opinion.
Now, while my laptop is still trying to finish downloading all the necessary updates to several installed apps (now it’s downloading updates to Garage Band, which I tried last night and still have to figure out), I’m going to get familiarized with the Mac. And maybe get another cup of soy mocha.
The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over the Lazy Dog
If there’s one thing I can say that I’m good at, it’s typing. I learned how to type in 4th grade when personal computers weren’t very common. My parents had this white Olympus typewriter that was as loud as a jackhammer. My mom taught me the basics of typing, after my being overly fascinated by how fast her keystrokes turned into a page full of paragraphs in a matter of minutes. It was my dad who drilled me.
“The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” I typed this over and over again per my dad’s instructions. Summers were long and boring when I was growing up. It was either practicing the piano or practicing typing. The latter was more fun and less irritating to the ears, so I thought. By the time school started again, I was a pro! I wrote tons of ridiculous stories just so that I could say I wrote them using a typewriter like Jessica Fletcher on “Murder She Wrote”. None of my stories ended up on TV, though. My mom often had that puzzled look on her face after reading them. I copied news articles, letters, bills… the possibilities were endless! I was getting so good at typing using proper keystrokes AND without looking down at the keyboard that I was feeling proud of myself. So proud, I was giving myself a natural high. It was like teaching myself how to skate when I was in the 3rd grade, only without a bruised rear end or without being called a sissy by the neighborhood kids.
When I got to high school, needless to say, typing class bore me to death. It pained me to watch my classmates struggle over “aaa bbb ccc” exercises that I had to close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else. It was like watching your dog eat his vomit… you don’t do anything about it; you just turn your head and pretend it didn’t happen. You can imagine how some of the classmates who sat beside me marveled at my speed and accuracy. The “How come you’re done already?” was often met with “I don’t know. How come you’re not?” I was done with the exercises minutes ahead of the rest that I often wondered, What the heck did these people do in grade school after watching “Super Friends” and “The Jetsons”? I should have been writing titillating novels right there with some of my classmates as the characters while waiting for the others to finish their basic exercises. OK, maybe not titillating. Maybe just slightly scandalous like someone ended up getting pregnant without having to go into the details on who did what and how and if other parties were involved.
Later on, I realized that typing so fast could be too much of a good thing. Like some kids started to ask me to type their term papers for them. “Only after you make sure what you have written down is final, and I won’t have to edit your paper for grammar, punctuations, interest or relevance,” I told them. That was a mistake. And I didn’t charge them–another mistake. I could have made hundreds! But they were friends, who only happened to be lazy and smart enough to know that I could be taken advantage of. I couldn’t tell friends to pay me. In a way, I bought their friendship.
When I was in college, typing papers and programming assignments was a breeze. But of course, being a college student also meant I was broke and needed some cash. So I put my money makers to work! While some people I went to college with (I won’t type their names here) worked the pole or gave massages and such, I made my fingers do their stuff. I got a part-time job at a government agency. Before you get oh so impressed by the sound of that, let me explain: it’s an agency that loans money to farmers. And the office, or whatever they called that dingy brick building that often stank with an odor that resembled a fatal combination of burnt popcorn, Windex, and mold, was one cough away from being closed down for health violations or maybe a sex scandal. I was hired there as a typist/clerk. I spent my half days typing letters to loan applicants on a prehistoric dinosaur they called a “computer” that had an old green screen that I swore did a full cranial X-Ray on me every time I used it. All the letters I had to type started with, “Pursuant to…” for some reason. I didn’t question it at first because I thought that was how government agencies wrote, like Abe Lincoln who started with “Fourscore and seven years ago….” Then as time went on, I started putting my own twists to the letters to make them sound less tuxedo and more pullover polo shirt. My boss didn’t appreciate that at all and ordered me to stick to the format I was given. Not that the format they gave me was the right thing, but it was “what’s been done.” No matter how obedient I was, I had managed to sneak in extra, unapproved punctuations in some of the rejection letters for added dramatic effect.
I think I averaged about 30-40 letters a half day. They could have used “mail merge” to make my life easier. Like I said, that computer was a dinosaur. Like I said, it was a government agency. Like I said, they made loans to farmers. Like I said, I needed a job, so enough of that mail merge babble and let me do all the typing! I was such a good typist that I was running out of letters to type before my shift was done. My phone didn’t ring, either; I wasn’t that important. “You’re too fast. Slow down.” This lady kept telling me to change my pace a bit because I was making her dizzy. Like that was the intention. I reminded her that it wasn’t me that made her dizzy and nauseous as she laughed and rubbed her pregnant belly. She often talked to me about moving to St. Louis because her family lived there, her childhood home. I often talked to her about the need to clean the office because it was depressing me. So in my “spare” time, after all the letters had been typed, I organized the closets where they stored the government forms and government paperwork and government this and government that. Their whole organization scheme was basically non-existent. A cat with 6 newborn kittens has better organization skills than they did. Someone had to step up and do it and that person was me. This was the “clerk” part of the job that I thought I had to fulfill. Come to think of it, I should have been paid more to clean up their mess, not to mention disinfect the microwave oven that was encrusted with weeks, maybe months, of lunch explosions. After there was nothing left to organize and letters to type before each shift was over, I kissed that job goodbye. Miraculously, I didn’t contract any communicable disease from that place. In fact, I think the low radiation from the computer screen zapped the germs I picked up.
Starving and in deep need of cash for gas and movie rentals, I had to find another job. “Why don’t you temp?” a friend asked. That had never crossed my mind. I had tried all sorts of retail jobs at Target, Sears, OfficeMax, and a couple of days waiting tables at an expensive seafood restaurant where snotty rich diners growled at me and threatened me with a penny tip when their drinks weren’t filled at the precise moment of their liking, or when I forgot to curtsy and say “Your Majesty” in their presence without looking them straight in the eye. A temp job sounded very interesting and less damaging to my self-esteem. I went to the temp agency and listed typing, telephone, reception, 10-Key, and polite customer service as my skills. They asked for my typing speed, which at the time I had no clue about. “Well, that’s OK. We’ll have to give you a typing test, anyway.”
I sat in front of a computer where they gave the typing tests. As I began to read the instructions on the screen the lady interrupted my reading to say, “Read the instructions on the screen and follow what it says.” When the test ended, I was asked to step into a small room with an empty desk and a chair to wait for my results. Minutes that felt like hours passed. I thought me sitting in a room eavesdropping on conversations that seeped through thin walls was part of the test. Then three ladies appeared at the door.
“There must be something wrong with the computer. You need to take the test again,” one lady said, while the others looked at me like I was some sort of carnival sideshow, smiling at me in delight for whatever reason that wasn’t apparent to me. So I said, “OK, is it going to be the same exact test? Because the story that computer made me copy on the screen didn’t have a good ending. And it was kind of boring.”
The second test was the exact same test, boring story and all. Except this time, all three ladies stood behind me, watching my every move. Come to think of it, this was a glimpse of what I had to endure years later under a micromanaging boss who stood behind me uttering “Is it done?” as I worked frantically to fix a program that blew up.
I found myself in the same room after the second test, listening to conversations happening elsewhere. One woman was laughing hysterically while a man’s voice interrupted her saying, “That wasn’t funny. Here’s what’s funny….” Another voice was engaged in another conversation, but I was hearing only one side of it. It must had been a telephone call. The three ladies appeared at the door again.
“Well, I guess it wasn’t a fluke,” one of them said. She handed me the typing test report. The report said I typed 99 words per minute with 94% accuracy. I looked up and asked, “So does this mean I get the job?” The tallest one said that they had never seen anyone type that fast. And she said that I probably exceeded 99 words per minute but the computer could only go up to 99. “And,” she added, “I think you broke the computer. We had to turn it off and turn it back on.”
Long after my temp job days, typing became my best friend when I started working as a programmer. One thing I realized that being a programmer doesn’t mean you come with good, if any, typing skills. I can’t stand seeing programmers who have the keyboarding skills of a monkey. Wait… monkeys, with proper training, might gain highly-developed dexterity, but that’s not the point. How the heck do you survive typing hundreds of lines of codes a day using the two-finger approach? I worked with this guy who typed like a newspaper reporter in the 1950s, minus the smoke-filled office, steel desks, and non-diverse workforce. I wasn’t around in the 1950s, but what I’ve seen in old movies from that era, newspaper reporters typed only with their index fingers while holding a lit cigarette between their lips. I couldn’t imagine having to live with myself with that programmer guy’s lack of typing skills. I’d be better off dictating it to someone else. Or work in management. Or recruit programmers with good typing skills.
Typing up this blog entry was pretty easy. Only if my brain were as quick to match my fingers’ speed. But if it were, who knows what kind of trash this blog entry would contain.
(Good) Customer Service is Dead
The service industry is on life support, I suppose. What our ancestors had we now can seldom find. Good customer service is so rare nowadays that “great” customer service is no longer expected. Why is that?
My recent trip to a hardware store (should I mention here that it’s LOWE’S in Alexandria, Louisiana) is a good example of fleeting quality service, if no longer existent already. I had recently purchased a part for a gas stove that didn’t fit. During my trip back to the store to return the item, I decided to pick up several sizes of the same thing, and had planned on returning those that I would end up not using. This, I thought, would save me the trip later on. At the customer service counter, I talked to an employee and explained my predicament. I presented the part that I was returning, along with the receipt. And I also showed her the other things I wanted to purchase in exchange for the one that I’m returning. She nodded her head and started to scan the item I was returning. While doing so, she kept talking to another employee standing beside her, complaining about another female employee she called a “b***”. Clearly distracted, she continued to scan the other merchandise I planned on buying. She stopped talking, looked at the screen of her register, and said, “Sir, where’s the receipt for these stuff?”
I looked at her in disbelief. I sighed and, without looking down, I reached for the unwanted merchandise and said, slowly as if I were speaking to a child, “Let me explain again… this is the one I’m returning. Here’s the receipt…” I then pointed to the items I wanted to purchase. “These are the ones I want to buy… That’s what I said earlier.”
“Oh, my bad!” came her reply. After making the correction and giving me the refund, she turned away. She didn’t even ring up my new merchandise! So I asked her to ring them up. She returned to the counter and said, “Ok. I’m not supposed to ring them up here on this register, but I’ll go ahead and do it.” She proceeded to ring them up as if she was doing me a big favor. Yes, she got out of her way to ring up the merchandise that I wanted to purchase after returning the unwanted item. Maybe she was expecting an award or something.
What the heck just happened? I don’t know. Maybe she’s: (1) dense; (2) rude; (3) untrained; and (4) rude. Here are the things that I think she should have stopped doing… wait, there’s only ONE thing she should have stopped doing: TALKING non-stop instead of LISTENING. Did you hear that, Ms. Thang in LOWE’S of Alexandria, Louisiana (Store #0586)? Oh, sorry, I’m sure you didn’t because you’re too busy talking about “Ms. B****” with that other employee behind the customer service counter. Maybe they should rename it to “Non-Customer Service” counter. Sounds more appropriate.
Now, I won’t even dare try to point out that there’s a problem with LOWE’S employee training. I’m sure that company has that covered. Or maybe not. But the truth still exists. Good customer service is dead. I attended the funeral. No one cried.
It’s been a while…
It’s been a while since the last time I posted something here… I guess I’ve gotten to the point where I got too busy, or too lazy, or both. Anyway, I’m trying to get back into the swing of things.
What have I been busy with? Work, of course. But outside work, in June through August, I was in Rogers Little Theater’s production of “The Music Man” playing Olin Britt, the bass of the barbershop quartet. (If you’re not familiar with the musical, here’s some info). That timeframe includes auditions, rehearsals, and performances. Met and worked with a LOT of very talented people. Had an absolute blast and would love to do another one with them. Had looong rehearsals (Sundays through Thursdays) and we did about 11 shows.
I’m currently in Alexandria, Louisiana (my hometown, sort of) visiting my folks. My mom just had heart surgery where they replaced her aortic valve. That was last Wednesday, August 19. She’s still in ICU but doing fine. I’m not sure how long they’re going to keep her there before she gets transferred to a regular hospital room. Today, they’re going to implant a pacemaker. At first they weren’t sure if she’s going to need it, but her cardiologist decided that she does. This has been a bit stressful for all of us… the waiting and all the unknowns, known risks, etc. I had initially scheduled vacation days for August 18 through the 23rd, but it looks like I’ll be extending my stay here to make sure my mom’s OK. (On that note, I need to e-mail work about this.) Also, need to help my dad out as well when she gets home from the hospital (still don’t know when). My mom’s progress is going well, according to the medical staff. I try to see her at least 3 times a day in ICU. The restricted visiting hours is a bit frustrating for me, but that’s just how it is.
Now that the musical is over… when things go back to “normal”, I probably need to start on another after-work activity. I had planned on working on some iPhone app development. My friend, Christina, had done it and now has an app on iTunes! I’m just lagging behind due to other stuff going on. Like I said, I’ve been pretty busy. Now, I just need to… (1) get a Mac, (2) go through the downloaded video tutorials, (3) whip myself into coding… I’m a programmer by education/training (and worked as a programmer for about 8 years), so this isn’t much of a stretch for me. It’s just getting into it and putting in time, in addition to the other interests that I’m pursuing now. I’ll just have to limit my sleep from average of 6 hours down to 5 or maybe 4. Maybe skip some lunch… Ok, that’s not going to happen. I can manage the sleep deprivation, but not starvation!
Maybe I should blog about my iPhone app development adventure. Not that it’s going to be an interesting read for everyone–but I’m sure it will be something that I can write about, now that most of my daily life is kind of boring to write about (not to mention READ about).
Let’s see how I’m going to keep up with this blogging thing. I can’t seem to keep up (or finish) anything!
Well, at least I finished 6 videos of backstage snippets from our Music Man production. Oh yeah, that’s another thing that I was busy with… making these videos. It took time, you know. I had posted these on Facebook. I uploaded these to Viddler.com so I could keep them “private” (as opposed to making these available on YouTube). But the video quality of the playback on Viddler isn’t as great as that of Facebook’s. Anyway, here are the videos…
RLT’s “The Music Man” Opening Night (And After)
After the Show — Gusano’s! (RLT’s The Music Man 2009)
Rock Island Dressing Room (RLT’s The Music Man 2009)
‘Til There Was You – Lip Sync Rendition (RLT’s The Music Man 2009)
Charm Boot Camp
What’s more wonderful than spending Dec. 23 at a walk-in clinic? I’ve been having this annoying cold that I want to get rid of. I’ve taken some medicine to combat it. I’m actually feeling much better but need something to get rid of the sniffles.
So I was sitting in the almost deserted waiting room when a guy with a baby stormed into the room. He looked about 20 or so. He stood beside a woman who happened to be his wife or girlfriend. She looked 17. As he tried to pacify the crying baby in his arms, he said, “What are you waiting for? If they’re not going to call you, just leave.”
“I have to wait. They’re gonna call me any minute now,” she answered back, trying to keep her voice down.
This angered the husband/boyfriend. “You’ve been waiting here for a long time. Are they gonna bring you a cup to pi** in or what?”
“That’s not how it works!” At this point, her voice was louder and less apologetic. “I’m going to wait here. Why don’t you just wait in the car?”
“I’m not going to wait there. She doesn’t want me. She wants you.” It’s a baby girl, apparently. He handed her the baby. Immediately, the baby stopped crying as if a doll with an off switch.
An older woman, who sat not too far from the couple, started to speak. “Aww, she’s precious! How long has she been sick?”
“Oh, she’s not sick,” explained the young mother. “I’m here for me, for some test. I’m her mother.” I wasn’t too sure what her explanation of her relation to the baby has anything to do with the other lady’s question.
“Come on, let’s go! Why don’t you get your a** out to the car so we can go,” the impatient husband/boyfriend said. She looked up, shook her head, started to rock the baby, and said nothing. He walked out of the room while saying some curse words under his voice, something that I can’t repeat here.
Am I getting too old, or do “kids” nowadays not have a clue about decent behavior in public places? Yes, it was entertaining to watch, but seriously, I could go home and surf YouTube for Jerry Springer clips and get the same effect.
What these rude kids need is a month of charm boot camp to whip them into acceptable form of societal beings. It should be part of the rites of passage–in addition to P.E. class, or prom. Forget walking in a straight line with books on their heads. Give them basic schooling in civilized approach to conflict management, marital relations, and child rearing. The latter is important, so to pass on the values and acceptable behaviors they’ve learned (hopefully) onto their offspring so that rudeness and indecent behaviors are not passed on to begin with, effectively “breeding out” the bad acts, so to speak.
This Is Where I Live. Rob Me.
It’s interesting and yet alarming to hear how people talk on the phones these days.
I’m not referring to the rude behaviors of some when they talk on their cell phones in movie theaters, elevators, church, or public restrooms. Or when they text non-stop or write blog entries when they should be working at their desks… I’m one of the latter, mind you. Guilty as charged. But, hey, I’m standing in line for coffee at this moment. I must make use of my time somehow, right?
What I’m referring to is how some people talk out loud on their cell phones in public places as if they don’t realize that there isn’t an invisible bubble around them, shielding their conversation from other people’s eavesdropping ears.
As a matter of fact, I just passed by a woman who was giving her phone number and email address to the other person, spelling out her email address as if she’s in a spelling bee championship. And, of course I got the entire information in my head right now. In fact, I can share that email address to you readers so you can send her spam, or a warning to not share that information with unintended ears. But, of course, I won’t do that. However, if you’re interested and willing to twist my arm for it, just let me know. I might be persuaded.
Cheers!
Having Kids? Sign Here!
A coworker of mine and I were having lunch at the office cafeteria while watching the latest news on TV. The news about the economy sparked an interesting conversation surrounding welfare. My coworker said that part of the problem seems to be the growing problem of individuals bearing multiple children that they are unable to support financially. One interesting point he made was the fact that since consenting adults are free to engage in sexual activity for pleasure or procreation purposes, and is, in general terms, easy to do without putting in a lot of financial investment to get the sexual activity started (well, I’m sure emotional and physical readiness are probably important factors, but for the sake of simplicity, let’s assume that individuals are readily equipped with such requirements, or ready to bypass the emotional requirement at least), and in fact CAN be done anywhere and anytime, then the pitfall is not difficult to miss even without regard to social and economic consequences of the aftermath, which is the birth of the resulting child. How convenient, right?
Which takes me to my point. Supposed that the government was to impose another requirement (i.e. law) that mimics the mortgage application process. That is, any individual or consenting couple who decides to procreate, regardless of real intent (entertainment, building a family, etc.) must provide proof of financial ability to support the child. If a financial institution requires that a borrower provide paperwork to say, “I am able to pay this much as down payment and this much monthly to repay my loan,” then the government should act like a mortgage lender and ask for a similar promise. Without proof of financial ability prior to procreation, then no pregnancy is allowed. I think that would be a good tool for population control, and to put welfare abuse in check.
Just a thought.
Technolust
People may think I’m one of those gadget freaks who can’t live without possessing the latest tech “toys”. Ok, guilty as charged. But I’m really not the type of person with extreme case of technolust who feels that the pursuit of happiness means ditching yesterday’s hot gizmo for today’s latest tech craze. Ok, I may have some symptoms of that “condition”, but I’m not the one who’d replace his phone every 6 months. Ok, I replaced my Treo for a BlackBerry after 3 weeks, but I was within the “trial” period, so I was “trying” it out first, and then realized that I didn’t like the Treo that much, so I switched to my current 8830.
Speaking of phones, I’ve thought about a touch smart phone like the ridiculously cool iPhone. The technoluster in me says that it’s a must-have, because everyone has it but it’s unique at the same time (by comparison to most smart phones). However, a huge down side of the iPhone is its lack of a physical QWERTY. The UI is amazing and intuitive, but my thumbs are used to feeling the keys. I’ve never tried typing for a long time on the iPhone, so my apologies for jumping into conclusions. However, I can’t say I’d be able to type all of this using the iPhone touch keyboard. (I’m currently using my Berry to type all this, believe it or not. It’s quite comfortable to use, actually.). I’ve grown accustomed to using my thumbs to type on my Berry keyboard, and I’ve developed a typing speed of at least 80 words per minute, which is a VERY rough estimate.
There are new contenders in town, though. The BlackBerry Storm and the BlackBerry Bold. They won’t be available on Alltel anyway soon, so we’ll just have to wait until Verizon buys Alltel. I’m eyeing the Bold. I still have to have the physical keyboard, which eliminates the Storm. But I haven’t tried any of the two yet, so my opinion is still subject to change.
Food for Thought
Some people at work seem to follow a different schedule. Every morning I go to the cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee to take back to my desk. What’s interesting is the large number of people I’d find seated in the dining room having leisure breakfast. I’ve looked around to see if I could find some people working on laptops. Well, I didn’t find a whole lot of them. So it made me wonder–do these people have enough work to do if they have time to sit and have breakfast at the office cafeteria? Hmm… Let’s chew on that for a while.
Better Late Than Never
I try to do a daily post but today’s (or yesterday’s) post slipped my mind. It’s almost 2 a.m. but I’m determined to finish this one.
I went to the Walton Performing Arts about 6 hours ago to see a performance of Faure’s Requiem. The University of Arkansas music department choral groups and orchestra did a good job. A friend of mine and I sat in the balcony, which I think provided the best view of the stage. The only thing that I must say about the selected work is that it was a bit too subtle for me. It’s definitely no Wagner. Each movement of this particular choral work lacked the excitement, drama, and depth that I was wanting to hear. I had never heard Faure’s Requiem before so I have no frame of reference for judging how the choirs and orchestra did. Overall, the enormous mass choir had a tremendous sound, although sometimes the orchestra drowned them out a bit too much. But, of course, that’s just my humble opinion.
