Getting better

I know, I know, I missed yesterday. These things happen.

As the week progresses my brain gains space. Three of this weeks performances are done. Now I just have to do the personal concert. You know, the solo bit. AHHHHH! Help me. Rescue me. Take me to a private island. Ok, freak out over.

I got to be part of a choir which sang at an ordination today. The music and mass were lovely.

So, I am now just sitting watching Jamie Oliver's Christmas specials and not going over my German words for two of my songs and generally being a lousy student.

Second week of Advent starts tomorrow.

Stress Bumps

I suffer from anxiety. I also get stressed. Both happen at the same time on an all to frequent basis. But over the last four years I have worked to get them under  into the realm of "normal".

My stress bumps came back this week. Stress bumps are literally what they sound like. I get these weird bumps on my knuckles. The doctor could not figure out what they where, when we asked. They get dry and sore. And they only show up when I am so stressed-out-of-my-ever-loving-mind that the stress has to become external.

I think the last time I got stress bumps was music festival six years ago? Seven? Five? (Before my voice got sick, and I got to quit music festival.) I am not sure. I could look it up, because I know what I was doing, but I am too lazy. It was the last year I got sent to provincials. For MF that year I had seven solos, two choir groups, and two dance numbers in the space of a week and a half. I would never preform if given the choice. I don't like it. It does not thrill me. In fact IT STRESSES ME OUT. So do I think it is a coincidence that the last time I had growths on my hands was the last time someone asked me to preform that many times in a week, and they came back for the first time in years, in a week that I have to preform four times in a week? No, not a fluke.

Talent and desire do not always line up. Just 'cause I can sing and preform well does mean that I want to. Ever. But I do, because God judges us on the talents that we do not grow. But it is painful.

Not that anyone will be able to tell from my peaceful countenance. It took me hours in front of a mirror to master looking calm. But I also learned that one, because people can hear better if you look happy. Go figure.

Rant over?

Well, that was full of Advent cheer, wasn't it? People always want you to sing around Christmas. Sheesh.

Lets put in a picture.

The stuff that counts.

Do I talk about voice much on here? I don't, do I? Weird. It takes up most of my life.

Because I finished the repertoire part of my exam in June, all my music is fairly new. And by new I mean under a year and a half old. Stuff doesn't become perfect quickly. Anyway, this means that for the concert in three weeks I have been doing fun stuff. I get to sing a Christmas carol and I get to re-polish two old songs that are my favorites. It is incredibly gratifying to redo a song that has not been dusted off in eight? years. I have new skills and new emotions. The poetry is different and the same. Songs have power regardless of what grade the book says they are in.

I am also sick, so working on songs with easier range is always a plus, when the goal is not to stress to tighten my instrument.

I think next time I have to talk about the link between no singing and my inability to regulate my own emotions.

Wanna see what I have as my desktop? I knew you did.

 

Pretty, no?

Getting through.

Good Grief! I might never have mentioned that I don't enjoy phone and yet somehow I spent almost 2 hours on the official lines trying to sort out RCM related madness. The first fax that I had to send off at the beginning of March... (not forming coherent sentences blah blah blah.) Anyway, I have no brain I have been chopped, diced, and filleted. Long and short of this weird day is, I did not get registered for my split exam and had to redo it all today under pressure. The situation RED and I are functioning under is odd enough, we are the first people in Canada to do the grade 10 voice split exam. Every time we phone head office we have to do this song and dance just to get through that this is something offered even though no one seems to now that. Did I mention that we are the FIRST people to do this? Ever? Yeah, we have the head office in a tizzy.

My brain is on the fritz. I would take the time to edit this but I kinda don't want to. So if it is full of errors, it is on my shoulders. My sun soaked shoulders. Yup, that is right, the sun came out. No, I am not sunburnt yet.

I did talk to RIG though. And we have....

Picnic Basket. I could not find a funky take on this.

Quote: The phrase "working mother" is redundant.  ~Jane Sellman
Because yesterday was Mother's Day.

BTW, I say and spell it Mum. Because I can.

Over and Out
 

Short and Dolce

If it would interest you I have a movie recommendation.
"We Bought a Zoo" is a lovely movie that can be watched by everyone. It is rated PG. I happen to be found of family approved movies. I laughed, I cried, I thought they handled grief well, the funny and the tragedy.

DAY ELEVEN

Post Script: If the Hunger Games interest you I just found this link and you might like it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=At3XDMUCZ-8

It's thing Friday

Dear B. of K.

Thing one: I can feel myself turning into my mother. I don't mind, it's just weird. So we were shopping today, and in the check out line they had thank-you cards on sale, and two of the patterns could be masculine. Mum collects cards in a box so that when the occasion arises we have a card, but masculine thank-you cards are a little hard to find on sale. When I saw these cards I snatched them up with the statement that I had to start my own card box. I'm becoming my mum.

Thing two: Just when I think it is time to clean out my brain, someone, generally THE teacher of music gives  out more work. She must sense that I am regaining consciousness  or something. I have been singing this aria for a very short time when she tells me the interpretation could use work and could I please translate it word for word from the Italian. I, of course, say yes.

Thing three: I love book shopping. This might have been mentioned. But, in my journeys as a book shopper, I have developed a pattern. I ask if they have an obscure British author, they say no. Or sometimes not obscure, they still say no. Or they have the author, just not the books I am looking for. If someone ever says yes, I might scream, which would be inappropriate. It could happen though.

Thing four: Rhubarb crisp and ice cream is yummy.

Thing five: I am in the middle of a passionate love affair with cheese. I eat dairy approximately four weeks of every year. Cheese and ice cream. Yummy.

Thing six: The regular TV season is closing which means I have time to organize which TV shows I would like to watch and catch up on. This is going to be a blast. I like moving pictures.

Thing seven: Read a good book. Re-read a good book. Have a good weekend.

I fell off the wagon

Day the Thirtieth:

Due to having an actual life and junk, I fell off the BEDA wagon. I did stay up for 23 1/2 hours to watch a wedding though. I thought it was beautiful, and had a small moment of wishing I had  a budget that could get me a choir like that. If I had to break down into percentages why I was watching the Royal Wedding it would read something like this:

40% the music.
40% because they are my monarchy, becasue it was a spectacle, because someting like that might not roll around in my lifetime again, becasue of the history
20% to see the dress.

So there you have it, my reasons for being stupid and fall off a wagon.

The END.

Of BEDA

GERONIMO

One of my philosophies

Day the Twenty-fifth:

I have rainy music, and sunny music, and happy music, and tired music, and grumpy music, and cleaning music, and baking music. But I study with whatever I am craving, which generally means one of the aforementioned.

One of the many philosophies I have formed is that by and large, most problems are easier to fix with good music playing. My currant position in life means that I get to form philosophies and they aren't destroyed, yet.

In my case anyway, I can fix most moods that aren't related to not singing, with good music and protein. Or, at the very least talking them out hurt less with music and food.

I was only thinking about this because I am slightly overfed (this is not my fault, some foods simply can not be denied) and have been rejoicing in Easter music. Life is a beautiful thing.

GERONIMO

April 9th didn't happen

Day the Tenth:
I am a bad blogger. But I'm OK with that. Mostly. April 9th got swallowed. Classes and opera studio and Costco and new jeans took it away from me.

And today is Sunday. So here's to hoping nothing interesting happens that I need to talk about. Other than reading a new book that I bought on Friday. About dragons. Ever since I was little, dragon stories have fascinated me. Some of my favorite kids books were about the lovely scaly, fire breathing, flying creatures.

I am going to go enjoy this feast day.

Ta-ta.

GERONIMO