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the only fool here's me
Because sometimes I need to remind myself why I do it.
(Does everyone have chairs who need chairs? Who's giving us starting notes? Do they need a tabbed score? Where's the power point for the sound recordist to use? Do the soloists have outfits that won't sparkle too much? Does this material fray when it's cut into strips? Which steps are we allowed to stand on? How many folders short are we? Which door to the church will be open tomorrow? Are voice parts balanced? Who's buying the supper? Where can we store the bouquets during the performance? Does everyone know the afterparty details? Do we have enough ticket sellers? Can we store this music stand with the chairs overnight? What have I forgotten? What have I forgotten?)
Because no-one else will.
Because it's my choir and I'm damn well going to fight for it to work
Because I'd go mad if I didn't sing every week.
Because I'm too proud not to.
But sometimes (tonight) I sit down exhausted with my back and calves aching from standing and my diaphragm complaining at the final movement of the Vespers - hovering around the top of the stave, forte-fortissimo all the way, blink-and-you'll-miss-the-cue kind of tempo, Rachmaninoff's final stab of vindictive dislike at the soprano section - and my throat beginning to show signs of wear. And I feel like punching all the old, bitchy, comfortably condescending associate members who have never done anything but show up and be told where to stand and what to wear and how to sing. And I want to tell them that I'm eighteen, that I've never managed a concert before, that I'm trying not to begrudge the time and not to think about my exams and the fact that I need to maintain my HD average to stay in this course.
...
Désolée.
I bought From Hell today. I'm going to do my biology homework and then sit down and watch the wallkissing scene again and again and again until my nerves feel less like they've been dipped in acid.
(Does everyone have chairs who need chairs? Who's giving us starting notes? Do they need a tabbed score? Where's the power point for the sound recordist to use? Do the soloists have outfits that won't sparkle too much? Does this material fray when it's cut into strips? Which steps are we allowed to stand on? How many folders short are we? Which door to the church will be open tomorrow? Are voice parts balanced? Who's buying the supper? Where can we store the bouquets during the performance? Does everyone know the afterparty details? Do we have enough ticket sellers? Can we store this music stand with the chairs overnight? What have I forgotten? What have I forgotten?)
Because no-one else will.
Because it's my choir and I'm damn well going to fight for it to work
Because I'd go mad if I didn't sing every week.
Because I'm too proud not to.
But sometimes (tonight) I sit down exhausted with my back and calves aching from standing and my diaphragm complaining at the final movement of the Vespers - hovering around the top of the stave, forte-fortissimo all the way, blink-and-you'll-miss-the-cue kind of tempo, Rachmaninoff's final stab of vindictive dislike at the soprano section - and my throat beginning to show signs of wear. And I feel like punching all the old, bitchy, comfortably condescending associate members who have never done anything but show up and be told where to stand and what to wear and how to sing. And I want to tell them that I'm eighteen, that I've never managed a concert before, that I'm trying not to begrudge the time and not to think about my exams and the fact that I need to maintain my HD average to stay in this course.
...
Désolée.
I bought From Hell today. I'm going to do my biology homework and then sit down and watch the wallkissing scene again and again and again until my nerves feel less like they've been dipped in acid.
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I have vanilla tea, and Johnny Depp will soon be naked and drinking absinthe for my eyes only. Oh yes :D
And thanks, Shivs. It's just. Everything at once.
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Johnny Depp will make EVERYTHING better, however! Well, for a short time, anyway. Like drugs.
And no problem, dear. I have my breakdowns all the time, so I know what it's like to collapse under the weight of All Too Much Crap.
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I don't have breakdowns, I just can't. I just have...temporary bottlenecks when too much comes at once and I can't rechannel all the crap fast enough.
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And congratulations, you! I haven't had time to talk to you since the Big Day :D Pass my love on to Selkie as well, and tell her Lucifer still misses Kassandra.
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Selkie says if Lucifer was ever on at the same time as Kassandra, there wouldn't be a problem. Ignoring the fact that neither of you play much. *grins at the both of you*
Miss you, chickadee. And you'll be fine. I know you will.
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However in the unlikely event that worst comes to worst you could always continue with a normal bachelor degree course like the rest of us mere mortals. The world will continue its celestial dance and life will go an as usual. You have your whole life to do amazing things in science and people smarter than you have done it without doing the uni-on-steroids course that you are doing. S'pose its down to the perfectionist thing in't it...oh well she'll be right, you'll an HD.
What's your problem with psych? Is it the tests or the super wankerfied reports you have to write?
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*pets carefully*