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la_rainetteAbout a year ago, as I was telling a friend about all the fun I had with my vocal ensemble, she replied, “Oh I can imagine! I wanted to join this rock choir but too bad, there was a waiting list, ahahahaha”
… and then my old East-German instincts kicked in.
See, when I was a kid and we’d go visit my grandma in East Germany, this would happen all the time: we’d pass a lineup and we’d just walk over and join it. Sometimes we didn’t even know what we were lining up for, but it didn’t really matter: if we didn’t need it, we certainly knew someone who would. So she said “waiting list” and I immediately thought, “I better get my name in now in case I ever want to join them, because this might take a while”.
Two days later I got an email for an audition. I panicked and asked a friend what I should do, she was all YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOSE! DO IT!, and long story short, I ended up joining a second choir and I now have 36 songs to memorize because I have two different concerts coming up in the next two weeks. Thirty-six, that’s right - half in English, half in French. I calculated the other night that I’d just had a full 20 hours of rehearsals over a period of one week, not counting the individual memorization/practice time at home, and of course I also work full time.
My brain has decided to take over the memorizing and is now kicking into high gear. It goes like this:
Brain, at 2 am: sweet dreams are made of thiiiiiis
Me: I WOULD KNOW IF I WERE ABLE TO SLEEP. I ONLY DREAM WHEN I SLEEP. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SLEEP.
Brain *piously*: Who am IIIIIIIIII to disagreeeeeeeee
Me *buries head in pillow*
Me *reads a post about @thebibliosphere‘s demon rose*
Brain *bayayaaaas its way into Seal’s kiss from a rose*: IIIIIIII’VE BEEEEEEN KISSED BY A ROSE ON THE GREY
Me *aloud to myself*: not this rose, you complete arse.
Husband: huh?
Brain, in the middle of the night: IS THERE LIFE ON MAAAAAAAARS?
Me: can we wonder about that some other time? Please?
My nights, guys. My nights. I just want them back.
Also, I now miss the sweet olden times when my English wasn’t good enough to understand the actual lyrics of songs, or when I just didn’t care (I can still tune out the meaning of words in English and just listen to the music of the language, something I cannot easily do with French or German). I used to love the Smiths, for instance, and now I have to LEARN lyrics like
“if a ten ton truck
kills the both of us,
dying by your side
well the pleasure, the privilege is mine”
Seriously, dude? Seriously? Wouldn’t you rather, oh I don’t know, have ice cream with your sweetheart? Or something?
Please, brain, leave me alone, because there’s a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and oh I am so fucked….
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2pWvMnA
via IFTTT
… and then my old East-German instincts kicked in.
See, when I was a kid and we’d go visit my grandma in East Germany, this would happen all the time: we’d pass a lineup and we’d just walk over and join it. Sometimes we didn’t even know what we were lining up for, but it didn’t really matter: if we didn’t need it, we certainly knew someone who would. So she said “waiting list” and I immediately thought, “I better get my name in now in case I ever want to join them, because this might take a while”.
Two days later I got an email for an audition. I panicked and asked a friend what I should do, she was all YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOSE! DO IT!, and long story short, I ended up joining a second choir and I now have 36 songs to memorize because I have two different concerts coming up in the next two weeks. Thirty-six, that’s right - half in English, half in French. I calculated the other night that I’d just had a full 20 hours of rehearsals over a period of one week, not counting the individual memorization/practice time at home, and of course I also work full time.
My brain has decided to take over the memorizing and is now kicking into high gear. It goes like this:
Brain, at 2 am: sweet dreams are made of thiiiiiis
Me: I WOULD KNOW IF I WERE ABLE TO SLEEP. I ONLY DREAM WHEN I SLEEP. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SLEEP.
Brain *piously*: Who am IIIIIIIIII to disagreeeeeeeee
Me *buries head in pillow*
Me *reads a post about @thebibliosphere‘s demon rose*
Brain *bayayaaaas its way into Seal’s kiss from a rose*: IIIIIIII’VE BEEEEEEN KISSED BY A ROSE ON THE GREY
Me *aloud to myself*: not this rose, you complete arse.
Husband: huh?
Brain, in the middle of the night: IS THERE LIFE ON MAAAAAAAARS?
Me: can we wonder about that some other time? Please?
My nights, guys. My nights. I just want them back.
Also, I now miss the sweet olden times when my English wasn’t good enough to understand the actual lyrics of songs, or when I just didn’t care (I can still tune out the meaning of words in English and just listen to the music of the language, something I cannot easily do with French or German). I used to love the Smiths, for instance, and now I have to LEARN lyrics like
“if a ten ton truck
kills the both of us,
dying by your side
well the pleasure, the privilege is mine”
Seriously, dude? Seriously? Wouldn’t you rather, oh I don’t know, have ice cream with your sweetheart? Or something?
Please, brain, leave me alone, because there’s a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and oh I am so fucked….
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2pWvMnA
via IFTTT
no subject
Date: 2017-05-20 08:36 pm (UTC)I am glad you got into your second choir!
-J
no subject
Date: 2017-05-21 07:36 pm (UTC)I am not staying, however. Right now I am not even enjoying the singing anymore because of all the pressure and I know I can't swing two choirs, but that's not the only reason and possibly not even the main reason. I just - I don't like that it's clearly a super-privileged choir. It's very expensive to join and when you ask to pay in installments because you can't afford to pay the whole amount upfront, you're treated like a second class citizen (for instance, you're not allowed to vote at the GA meeting if you haven't paid the full amount yet. I don't know if this is customary, maybe it is, but I am 100% not comfortable with it). The seats for our June show are RIDICULOUSLY high-priced. I mean, I know we're renting a super posh venue for this show, but I am not comfortable asking my friends to pay more to see me than they would to see the freaking Toronto Symphony Orchestra, because it's ridiculous.
Basically I have to pick one, because I can't do two, and I like my French choir better. It's a true community choir: we make most of our props/costumes ourselves, we're pretty diverse and super supportive of each other, and it fits me better on a human level. :) And it feels a lot like family by now.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-23 01:50 pm (UTC)-J