let's get the seven lines. (bookshop) wrote,
let's get the seven lines.

  • Music:

musings, etc.

This post is unapologetically real life, just fyi.

So, despite a severe lag time in all things fandom, my real life is progressing. The news of the day is that the UChorale, which is combining with USingers (aka the choir I am next-in-line-to-be-in) for a symphonic performance of The Miraculous Mandarin tonight, found out today that we're doing not two, not three, but *four* performances this semester: The Bartok tonight; a really short, bland stint in Schubert's Der Rose Pilgefahrt for our current conductor's doctoral degree; a second doctoral recital in April; and, we just learned today, Berlioz's Damnation of Faust.

This is what I hate about singers. Singers who are studying to be solo singers in operas somewhere feel en masse that choir is a complete waste of their time. They complain about it; they come late; they never work on their music; they skip non-mandatory rehearsals, and they generally write off the whole art of choral singing as incidental busy work. That has always pissed me off about voice majors. I *love* choir. There is a fundamental part of my personality that enjoys singing harmony ten times more than the lead, and in a choir, the total synthesis of melody and harmony, voice and instrument, text and music, is infinitely more gratifying to me than anything I've ever experienced singing solo.

So when we got the announcement about singing the Berlioz, I was totally excited. To me, a performance opportunity is a performance opportunity, especially after having been away for so long. But I'm in the minority. Naturally, the other singers are reacting to this as if it's unforgivable. Granted, we're only supposed to have two required performances a semester as a standard; but the Bartok tonight is a grand total of three minutes long, and we've barely needed rehearsal. Same with the Shubert--it's laughably uncomplicated. But they're all, "this is bullshit, I'm going to talk to the Dean." Why? So he can remind you that you're a PERFORMER and this is what you're being prepared to do?! Ugh. I'm just frustrated by singer's attitudes in general. I mean, god forbid a singer actually have to *sing*. If all they care about is doing solo work why are they musicians at all? *gripe gripe gripe*

Anyway. I'm not in a bad mood over it, and am greatly looking forward to being back on the MAC stage again, especially since my lovely sparkly new black top only cost $3.75 at Target. :) That's almost less than I paid for my mocha chill at Arby's this morning, haha.

Happy birthday, metaphoracle!!! *hugs* I love you, sweeetie, and I hope it was wonderful! I wish I'd known it was coming up, I'd've written you a ficlet ala Jane Austen. as it is you'll just have to accept my love and well-wishes for the next year. You deserve nothing but loveliness.

And especially, congratulations, weatherby!!! :-*

The other big news in my life is that my mom has decided to pay my rent for a while, so I can find a supplementary job that will let me devote most of my time to finishing school. While this is a good arrangement, naturally, I'd much rather be paying my own rent, and she wants me just to have money to "run around on." Um, right, mom. With that in mind, the talks I've been having with the college newspaper about coming to write for them are more significant. It started out as an exchange between me and the assistant editor of the paper, wherein she said that I was welcome to come write for them if I ever wanted to leave the town paper. Problem: I *don't* want to leave the town paper. I love my editor, I love my reviewing gig. But the thing is, I don't get to write nearly as much as I want to, and I don't have the freedom to choose my own reviews. If I went to the college paper, I'd get paid less per article, and I'd lose a little prestige (everybody knows the IDS sucks, haha)--*but* I'd get to write as much as I wanted to. The pay cut wouldn't matter as much if I were writing an article a day, and getting to expand and write about more than just theatre--the asst. editor said I could write for more than one desk. So I'm thinking, that might just be a good deal--except, wah, I love my current paper! What I'd most like to do is go to my editor and ask him if he can offer me more frequent assignments; but I'm not sure if I know how to do that, or if he'll just laugh at me and shoo me away.

Sigh. I know this is an important choice, but I usually suck at important choices.

It looks like my research paper will be on Benjamin Britten and sexuality, and I am inordinately excited about it. I have been reading his and Peter Pears' letters to one another, and WAH THEIR LOVE WAS SO PURE!!!!! It is too too beautiful. They are constantly reaffirming their love and calling each other "my darling," "my man," "immer dein" (!!!!), etc. Can you imagine how wonderful it must have been to see them together? Their letters just exude love and devotion.

Britten to Pears, March 11, 1943

My darling--

One stamp left, so whom to use it for...? As if there could be any question--!!


I am in love. <3<3<3<3<3<3. DV Harry and Draco would have that kind of love, wouldn't they. 'I would not only follow you to the Gates of Hell, but I'd use my very last stamp just to tell you how much I love you.' <3<3<3 Happiness!! God, the beauty, the pricelessness, to be able to see, to *capture* such a love on paper or for posterity or in music--let alone be a part of it. Oh, my heart.

I've been seeing a young man around the music school who has from the very first glimpse of him reminded me of Philip, the cellist who stole my heart when I was a freshman and over whom I spent something like a year wandering around the music school, stalking him, swooning over the cello, and generally mooning like an idiot. This guy has the same enduring good looks, the same build--tall and slim and light, the same clean-cut look and light brown hair; and most especially, he has the same keen, warm-eyed look of quiet intelligence that drew me to Philip, and typically reels me in like a moth to the flame whenever I come across it in anyone. Seiously. Are you shy, quiet, and reticent despite your obvious intelligence? I will be fascinated with you on the spot and stalk you until you talk to me and/or I decide to fall head over heels in love with you. Anyway, I saw this guy around here and there, and today I saw him again and realized--haha, he plays the cello. The deja vu (or the Aja-vu, a friend used to say) has had me laughing all day.

I think I have history drill with him. Pehaps tomorrow morning I'll fall in love with him.

Wah, I can't take it. One more from Britten:

"My darling--it was so heavenly to hear your voice a few minutes ago. But don't those blasted minutes shoot by? One never has time to say what one wants, but anyhow over that cold instrument (aka piano) one never could say what one wants. It'll just have to wait until Saturday week. How grand that'll be. I do need you so desparately (sic)--I'm afraid I get such fits of depression when you're not around. ...My darling, what a lovely person *you* are to know--I don't know what I have done to deserve you!"


I want a love like that.

Though I would settle for just being able to create a love like that.

Hell, I'd settle for Trilogy slash. I'm so easy.

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