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complaints and other litanies

2005-07-18 - 2:39 p.m.

So much to discuss, so little time to do it in. I'm being asked to take on a new project at work, and I'm all a-twitter with the new responsibility and, quite frankly, the chance to do something different from the normal routine and stretch a little bit. So that makes me happy, although stressed at the same time.

The living room is painted. R is even now preparing to put on a second coat. Perhaps I shall even post photos here. But until then, you must use your imagination. My living room is a gorgeous glowy butter. I'm not being a Restoration Hardware whore--the color is an incredibly mellow yellow (and I'm not talking about the '60s song). It makes the room look warm and inviting. It also picks up the yellow in my grandmother's braided rug and ties it into the rest of the room. We accomplished all the priming and painting yesterday, while listening to The Cure, U2 and the Desperado soundtrack.

Saturday I had my audition. I got to the church over half an hour early, and sat outside for a few minutes. Then I went inside, proceeded to wander all over the church until finally heading down to the basement where the auditions were being held. As I was filling out my card, I heard an amazing soprano in the audition room. I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach, and wanted nothing so badly as to turn around and walk right out of that building. I went into the small chapel to warm up--I sang a few scales and some simple exercises and went over the trickier runs in my aria. Then I went back out to wait, and the sinking feeling just kept getting worse. When the conductor came out to get me, it was all I could do not to say "This was a mistake" and walk away. But I didn't. I introduced myself, saying "I'm probably the most inexperienced singer you'll hear today. I really just wanted to meet you and get an evaluation of my voice." I told him I had just picked up the Bach aria two days ago, and asked if I could instead sing what has become one of my standards, Lotti's "Pur dicesti." He told me to go ahead with the Bach aria. I screwed up once almost immediately, coming in a measure too early. Then I recovered. As I was winding up the first part, he complimented me on my "very nice trill." Well, that totally threw me, and I then flubbed another small section. But I got through the runs pretty well, and didn't miss any of the really tricky notes. All in all, I thought I did really well--and so did he. He told me I had an enormous potential and wanted to know who I was studying with and what ensemble I was singing with. He said I had a very pure voice, and he lit up when I told him that I'd be taking with Charles K_______ in the fall. "He'll really free your voice and take care of the technical pitch problems," he said. He complimented the lovely color of my voice and cautioned me never to join an ensemble where I'd have to sing straight, as it would cause me to loose the color. So overall I felt it was a very good experience, even though it was not successful in terms of joining the group.

R and I have decided once again to attempt the infamous South Beach diet. People often exclaim how Diets Do Not Work and One Must Change One's Lifestyle and Really It Is Easy, but I'm betting these are not the same people who keep bringing ice cream and chips into their house even though they need to loose weight. I'm sure it is easy for many of my readers to cook healthful and nutritious foods and snack only on vegetables and fresh fruit, but it takes some considerable effort for us to do so. Following a specific diet seems to help give us the tools to do so. Hopefully we'll also be able to be better at getting into the gym.

Well, that's about it. Sorry for the boring entry, written with little to no flair. I'm not feeling particularly flairy today. In fact, it's been not the greatest of days. I woke up at 7, promptly turned off my alarm and went back to sleep, only to wake up at 10 of 8, sit bolt upright and wail "Holy shit, it's 8 am! How did I turn the alarm clock off?" while R mumbled in his sleep and the cat grinned an evil feline grin. R sleepily pulled on jeans while I rushed through my morning ablutions and threw on something resembling clothes. We ran out to the car, only to find we were blocked in by the Deer Park truck. "We're trying to leave," my husband said. "Yeah, well, we'll only be a minute," the lazy and hideous Deer Park Delivery guy drawled. In tandem, we cried "I don't/She doesn't have a minute, we're trying to catch a bus!" Deer Park pulled their truck aside for us. Which on the one hand, nice, but on the other hand, you shouldn't block people in and then just expect them to wait until it's convenient for you to move. Last time I checked, Deer Park does not pay the mortgage on my house and therefore doesn't get all the privileges of the reserved parking space. So I got to the bus on time and got a nice empty seat. Not a minute later, a woman bustles onto the bus and motions at me to move my bag so she can sit next to me. People, there are empty seats all over the bus, and yet she choose to sit right next to me, bumping into me the entire ride. Infuriating. And the rest of the commute proceeded similarly, what with being stuck behind slow people, and stupid tourists clogging up the whole system. It was truly a morning of sheer delight.

 

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Die Entfuehrung
Die Entfuehrung aus dem Serail (The Abduction From
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