Friday, March 28, 2008

Getting up on my high horse

When I was in grad school, Ms. N and I use to scream at each other to "Get up on your high horse, girl!" Because it always seemed that believing your were fabulous would somehow, magically make it come true.

That is just exactly what I need to work on NOW. It's been a couple years since the grad school days, and I've decided that I can either let the odds and the bitches get me down, or I can become my own cheering section and my own favorite friend. It seems I might have accidentally spent (read: wasted) many years working a 168 hour week as my own worst critic.

I went to the most wonderful performance last night of Roméo et Juliette and oh my goodness. I cried and cried. Why can't I go to operas like that every day? The kind that remind me why I want to sing and why opera is so freaking good?

The other great thing yesterday was that I got paid to listen to singing all day, and one person in particular inspired me like crazy-- watching her was like taking a voice lesson, in the best possible sense. Besides the other questions that were going through my head like: "And you're still in school, why?" I went home tired but light-hearted, and all the problems (scary stuff with my voice, people! Damn that Easter marathon of drama!) I was having just days before were all but gone.

Getting behind myself is my number one goal for, well, the rest of my life.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

The week we've all been waiting for

Is, of course, Holy Week. Okay, not really. I'm just glad I'm not in the men's choir at my church-- they have to sing like 27 times this week. And I only have to sing four and two rehearsals.

In other, much more interesting news, I lost three pounds, and have a stunning new spring bag. It's creamy white leather-- exactly what I needed to cheer me up, since buying things for my wardrobe has been on hold until I've lost, well, about 15 pounds. And say what you want, but every girl is entitled to go completely bats over her weight when she has a wedding coming up. It will be the one time in my life I really have any true will power-- if I'm paying all this money, and saving every penny to pay for something as big as a wedding, I better look FABULOUS.

One exception I was willing to make to the "I don't buy another shred of clothing until I've lost 15 pounds" rule was a gorgeous black Ralph Lauren concert gown that was ridiculously inexpensive. It's a bit big, but I'll have it taken in--

I figure it might be time too, to get back on the wagon with the recital rep-- my new Sibelius set awaits, and, unlike any other singer in the world, I DON'T know all of the soprano solos in Messiah, so I figure I'd better get to work on them too, just in case. I need a place to wear the new black RL, and call me crazy, but a little Handel Messiah would be just the thing.

Have hot dresses, will travel. Hire me, people!

Monday, March 17, 2008


It's a Monday, and spring break, here at concert central. No one else is here, and I feel distinctly annoyed that I have to be here. Like maybe my boss is just trying to torture me. Maybe.

Yesterday was a day of parades-- the one with the palm branches into Jerusalem, and the one for the Irish immigrants. I liked it, but had to fight momentary brattiness, after church, that is. It was an intense day of singing, and I had to do a lot of inner-motivating to get myself out onto Charles Street for the St. Patrick's Day Parade. I'm really glad I went, it being the one day of the year you can openly quaff gallons of alcohol standing out on the street. I only had a beer and an Irish coffee, but it felt really good anyway.

We stumbled home to do laundry and catch up on our HBO series, having no energy left for much else.

Friday, March 07, 2008

I haven't posted in a thousand

And that's mostly because I have nothing really to say, not that I ever do, but, you know.

I may have mentioned that by Friday, I usually feel like death warmed over-- and look like it too. But, thanks to the visit of my sweet teacher R., today has been nothing but fun. All it took was that one hour of lunch time to put me in a great place for the rest of the weekend. Too bad our fun chat and her comforting words couldn't really do much for my hair. It's horrendous today. An absolute rats nest, and apparently irreparable, no matter what I try.

Last night church rehearsal was, well, fun, and coming home to watch LOST wasn't bad either-- everyone else was going out to drink, but I had no trouble making the decision to go home. Yesterday was a long one for me.

I am trying desperately to get motivated to get back to work on my recital rep for upcoming competitions and a recording we've planned to do during spring break, but I think it might be my allergies setting in again. Everything inside there just feels gummy and slow. This time last year I was deathly ill and trying to sing a Bernstein concert, so I guess it could be a whole heck of a lot worse.

Tonight, maybe I'll go to the movies for some brainless, inane entertainment-- the Will Ferell movie, please? And tomorrow it's more practicing and wedding appointments.

Happy weekend!

Wednesday, March 05, 2008


Just wanted to say that.

I am feeling increasingly apathetic today. Usually, as the day goes on, I wake up from my haze and kind of get motivated to achieve. Not today, folks.

But, because I am a good little girl and things like that, I will go home at lunch and warm-up.

Tonight, I'm going to dance class with Joe, and tomorrow night is more church fun. Friday, lunch with my fabulous teacher,and maybe a little bit of accessory shopping. I need shoes and a bag real bad.

Monday, March 03, 2008

I love it outside

Although today is particularly deceptive and bratty, because there's absolutely no way we could hope for it to stick around. The weather! 65 and sunny! And I'm here at a desk? Sigh...

I wish it had been like this on Sunday, when after barely making it through church job number one (partied a leeeetle too much on Saturday night. Whoopsie), I got to church job number two only to discover that the heat was broken. Did the minister thoughtfully shorten the service and get rid of the superfluous bits so that we could all go home and thaw out? Did he suggest that we run up and down the aisles to get the feeling back in our ice-block-feet again? No. He did neither, and in fact, he made the service longer, and added what seemed like many extra pages to his sermon. Our teeth were chattering as we stood in our coats and scarves in the choir loft, desperately listening for our cues as our organist couldn't get her poor frozen fingers to the right keys in time.

We'll chalk it up to another one of the many reasons I think I need to cut it down to one church per Sunday. By the second liturgy, you've kind of lost patience for this sort of thing. Frost bite and bad hymn arrangements for choir don't mix.