Breathe (2AM)

I think all college students heading into finals should be required to listen to this one, mostly for the refrain. It is so easy to get swept up into the stress and exhaustion of the exams.

I've had an interesting few days, mostly because last night at dinner was the first real meal I've been able to eat in 3 days. I know my parents read this sometimes, so I don't want to worry them and I don't have an eating disorder, I promise, but I've eaten very little in the last three days, mostly liquids and small snacks. As my Basic Acting II final wound down yesterday, I realized that I had been far more nervous for it than I originally thought. I know I felt prepared for most of it (I still hate Actions and Objectives) and I knew my partner and I would be fine, but I was still incredibly nervous for it; it went really well. As soon as I relaxed, my stomach did not stop growling for a full hour. Food fail for sure.

I'm down to 3 finals: 2 in class and 1 paper. I'm hoping to knock the paper out today, leaving my Lit I and Stagecraft finals. I'm more than happy to work on Stagecraft, but I don't want to study for Lit. That class has been...interesting, to say the least. I was thrilled to be in a class where the assignments were all stories, some of which I was familiar with, but many of the readings wound up being dull and dry. I'm a personal fan of lectures with class participation in the form of questions where I can take real notes on what the teacher is looking for. I have no real notes from this class. Tons of doodles in my notebook, but no real notes. It is very frustrating.

I know it seems like I'm complaining (and I am), but I am very opinionated when it comes to teaching and to teaching styles. I'm heading into my first Field Experiences in January and I've taken 2 Education classes already at school. I even wrote my first lesson plan this semester and taught 15 minutes of my second lesson plan to the class. The more I learn about teaching, the more I look for the teachers that inspire me and the more I try to figure out why they are so amazing. My Acting Professor, my high school English/Latin teacher, my Honors Algebra II/BC Calculus teacher, my middle school French teacher, my high school choir director, my current choir director/boss, my Honors US I teacher, my music theory teacher, my 8th grade English teacher. They have all made a difference in my school career and have driven me to emulate their profession.

I love learning. I want learning to be fun and accessible and understandable for everyone, so when I am stuck in a class where I have no motivation and am not passionate, school becomes a chore. I'm not paying thousands of dollars to do chores. The point of college is to learn what you can in order to prepare for life. I shouldn't be something we do because we have to. That's what k-12 is for. College is optional and really freaking expensive, so the least we can do is have fun while learning.

"And breathe. Just breathe."

Down To The River To Pray

Any time you are in a show, life can be pretty difficult. There are lines to memorize, histories to craft, relationships to build, blocking to learn, sets to build, lights to hang, costumes to find and fit, sounds to design, and so many other things. it really is amazing just how much goes into producing and putting up a show.

The show I'm in right now, Orpheus Descending by Tennessee Williams, goes up this week, so we are in full blown production mode, and with full blown production mode actually comes a great deal of down time, surprisingly enough. There are two characters that are onstage for almost the entire show (one of them is in every single scene), so for all of the other townsfolk, it allows for some freedom. For example, I wrote most of a lesson plan during yesterday's 12 hour tech rehearsal.

This show is also very challenging. For me and my character, Vee Talbott, I've been on quite a journey. This is a woman who has visions from God, visions of Jesus and the Holy Ghost and of spiritual things, but she is also beaten by her husband and shunned by the rest of the town; they all think she is crazy. The only solace she finds is in her paintings. Her visions inspire her to paint, and while she is at her easel trying to recapture the  mystery and excitement of her visions, she feels complete and unique. Oh, and did I mention she is a devout Episcopalian?

As always, I look to music for my connections first. I find that creating a character soundtrack can give me all of the inspiration I need to finalize all of the other necessary details. One of the songs that jumped out at me for this part is "Down To The River To Pray." I first remember hearing this song on the soundtrack for "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" With its laid back tempo and open chords, it is the embodiment of old Southern tunes for me.

I really love this particular piece of music, even more with everything that has been going on in my life lately. With freak snowstorms, avalanches of homework, stress-inducing rehearsals, nervous breakdowns, floods and the like, any source of calm is greatly welcomed and treasured.

With any luck, life will go back to some semblance of normal after the show this weekend. I look forward to it, but I know some part of me will miss all this. I always do.

"As I went down to the river to pray/ Studyin' about that good ol' way/ And who shall wear the starry crown/ Good Lord, show me the way."

Jack Sparrow

So, my brothers have recently introduced me to the group The Lonely Island. Kind of funny, kind of awkward. there are clean versions of their songs out there, but most of them are fairly explicit. It's not really cursing and stuff for cursing's sake. The group got started on SNL and have since release 2 albums of their raps. It's all funny, it's all comedy, it's all very...crude I guess is the best word. But it's fluffing HILARIOUS.

My first introduction to TLI was the Jack Sparrow song, featuring Michael Bolton. the group is trying to record a "serious" rap and suddenly Bolton breaks out into "This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow." Sooooooo funny. Because after they convinced him to drop the Pirates of the Caribbean thing, he goes to other films. As a heads up, it is explicit, so view at your own discretion, but it is really, really funny.

I think it is interesting to see reactions to comedy that contains profanity. I used to watch it and not tell my parents until they started showing me comedians like Lewis Black and Russell Peters who use language in their routines. There's always a big debate on crude material versus clean material, but just like banned books, ignoring the problem in hopes that it will go away won't solve the problem...

"This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow/ Pirate so brave on the seven seas/ A mythical quest to the Isle of Tortuga/ Raven locks sway on the ocean's breeze."

Half-Life

Usually, everyone sees me as this bright, energetic, happy, busy person, always excited to work and help out any way I can. Sometimes, I can even see how they think that. Most times, though, I wonder where they come up with that impression; it just feels like a character I'm playing to hide the real me, the side I never want them to see.

I feel like I'm fighting really hard to find that happy girl nowadays. I've been looking at a picture from when I was about 1 year old and I just can't fathom that happy child, probably laughing because her Papa was making a goofy face behind the cameraman the way he always does. She didn't worry about grades or friends or driving or work or stress or sleep or eating right or finding love or money or debt or any of the things that invade my psyche on a daily basis.

I know part of the current problem is that I feel lonely. I see all of my friends with their groups and their inside jokes and feel so far removed that I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I feel like an outsider looking in the window of a really great party where everyone speaks a different language from me. I know that all I want is to feel like I belong, but I feel like I'm lacking something in that particular department. Maybe it's my sense of humor, maybe it's my laugh, maybe it's my lagging social skills, maybe it's my tendency to sit and listen when my friends talk and not feel like I can interject with my own opinions and have them be taken as seriously as the conversation was before I opened my mouth. Of course, I could just be flipping out over nothing at all.

There are some days when I long for the simplicity of life the way it used to be, before I wanted to grow up to be a perfectionist.

"Maybe I need to see the daylight/ Leave behind the half-life/ Don't you see I'm breaking down?/ Oh lately, something here don't feel right./ This is just a half life./ Is there really no escape,/ No escape from time of any kind?"

Make Them Hear You

Hello again!!! I'm aware that I've taken a rather long hiatus from my blog. To be honest, I didn't really feel like I had anything important to write about for the majority of my summer, but more on that later. I actually have something I really want to write about and share with you, my readers.

Every year at my old school, students have the opportunity to lead the school in the Pledge of Allegiance and read the morning announcements over the PA system. I had the honor of holding this position my Senior year.

The tradition has continued since my graduation, and I happen to personally know the student who applied for the job this year; let's call him Bob. Now, in attempt to change things up a bit, Bob obtained permission from the powers that be in the school to practice his astounding talent for voices and impressions during the announcement portion of the broadcast. Since every day would be different (Sean Connery, British, Midwestern, etc.) the idea was that students would listen attentively each morning to hear what was coming next. From what i hear, it was working beautifully. Students who generally talk and goof off during the announcements were listening attentively and enjoying the announcements.

I wish I'd had that idea, not that I have any talents with voices. The idea itself is simply inspired, geared toward making the humdrum school day more interesting and exciting. Having listened to the announcements myself for three years, I know how dull it can be, especially since the bell is about to ring. My attempt to change things around my Senior year came during the production of the Fall play. I wrote an announcement for each day of the week to be read by different characters, of course promoting the show, and the turnout that year was unparalleled. But, back to Bob.

Now, unfortunately for Bob, things did not work out so well. Apparently, a few teachers called in with complaints. Why, I do not know. He was not offensive or rude or cruel in any of his announcements or accents/impressions; in fact, he is one of the most responsible and respectful people I know. But, not only has he been banned from doing voices, but two of his peers have also been brought in to share the job. there is already talk of a petition to get his voices back on the air, and he has support from a majority of students from all grade levels.

I don't know why certain teachers had a problem with Bob's voices. He wasn't doing them during the Pledge, just during the announcement portion. He was trying to add a little personality and special flavor to the dull, daily routine.

I wish I could give the teachers who complained about Bob a piece of my mind, but that would be disrespectful and out of place, so I am sharing Bob's story instead to see what you think. Part of why I am studying Education in college right now is so that I can grow into a supportive, influential, force for good in schools, fostering individuality, creativity, and motivation in my future students. Bob has received the exact opposite of this. Is this what our schools are coming to? Machines to squelch individuality, turning the children into proverbial Cybermen (Google it)? If so, is it even worth becoming a teacher?

"Your sword can be a sermon/ Or the power of the pen./ Teach every child to raise his voice/ And then, my brothers, then/ Will justice be demanded/ By ten million righteous men?/ Make them hear you."

The Lazy Song

Definitely been a busy week, and things are only going up from here. I began brainstorming ideas for a new story to write today. As time goes on, I'll see where it ends up. Maybe I'll post previews of it here.

Even with everything I had to do today, I just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. If I could have spent the day in bed, I would have, but I had church and choir rehearsal and it was/is Father's Day, so I had to get up for all that.

If feels like my life got a lot simpler once school ended. I haven't really felt like I've had much to write here. Work is going to pick up this week, so I might have some stories from that, or maybe not.

I was just thinking about something a good friend of mine once said: "Never regret anything because at one time it was exactly what you wanted." I'm not sure why I started thinking about it. I think it's very profound and true. I know I spend a great deal of my time worrying about the future and regretting past actions and it really doesn't seem to be the way to go. Huh. Maybe I'll ponder it some more. Maybe it'll end up in my story. Maybe I'll sleep on it and see how I feel when the sun is up again.

"Today I don't feel like doing anything./ I just want to lay in my bed."

Written in the Stars

I feel like I've been slacking here. I post, blink my eyes, and it's a week later with no new entries. I'm either just that busy or just that lazy. Right now, it's a combination of the two.

I've been thinking about writing another short story (for my most recent one, read the entry So They Say. It's back in March). I'd never had a story write itself before, but I had 3 very clear images in my head of where the story was headed. I guess I'm looking for a similar inspiration for another story, maybe one that could turn out to be longer or head to a later work/ collection of stories, etc. You know, trying to keep my options open.

I've been thinking of doing reviews on here of books/shows/movies. that could be a great deal of fun and would certainly begin soon. Now that church choir is "over" for the summer and I'm not rehearsing all the time for one choir or another, I'll have more time to write. Or maybe more time to watch TV or read a good book. ;)

Have a good one!

"Written in the stars/ A million miles away/ A message to the man/ Seasons come and go/ But I will never change/ 'Cause I'm on my way."

Coney Island Baby

At my church, we are lucky enough to be blessed with a multitude of children and teens (and adults) in the choir. The youngest ones are 3 or 4 years old!!! When I joined my church three years ago, I was not expecting the volume or talent of musicians present.

The choirs are split up as such: 3-7 year olds, 2nd-5th grades, 6th-8th grades, high school girls, boys whose voices have changed/are changing, and adults. We will sing anywhere from 1 to 4 or 5 prepared pieces on any given Sunday (aside from the hymns). Solos go out across the age groups and are always up for grabs; a good incentive to show up early for the Sunday morning call is to offer out solos to the first arrivals.

Most of these kids have grown up together and are really good friends. My siblings and I joined the church three years ago, but we were welcomes with open arms and a great deal of joyful noise. Back then, one brother was a tenor (now a baritone) and the other was a boy soprano (now a BASS II). I'm still a soprano/alto/tenor, or as my parents once called it, a trans-SECTION-al (hahaha).

The way I remember that my brother was a boy soprano that year was because we sang the Rutter Requiem for the All saints Day concert, and he had the high solo at the end of the Pie Jesu (it goes up to a nice high A flat). It's hard to believe how quickly his voice has changed.

Anyway, the teen boys rehearse after the adult choir rehearsal each week. They have a fair amount of religious and spiritual songs in their repertoire, but they also have some contemporary songs as well: Stand by Me, Wonderful World, Banana Boat, and Coney Island Baby to name a few. One of the coolest things about the contemporary pieces (aside form the great harmonies and awesome soloists) is the choral-ography. It just makes the piece, and the boys sing it so well; you can tell they are having a blast.

I can remember hearing Banana Boat back in 2007 when the boys did a joint concert with my old youth choir. I thought they were brilliant, hamming it up for the audience and generally enjoying themselves (at least THEY were smiling and moving around while they sang, and they still do).

As a sidenote: in case you haven't noticed, I don't use names and places in my blog. I use general descriptions and such. If the people mentioned indirectly want to claim their references, they are more than welcome to. I'll leave it up to them. It really should be their decision anyway...

"Farewell my Coney Island baby. Farewell my own true love."

Dreams

I've been a bit lax about writing frequently. I think the fact that I finished the school year made me realize how much I needed to relax and let down. Well, I really should put "let down" in quotes because I'm still working and singing and reading and cleaning and living my normal, busy life. the only difference is that I don't have papers due every day.

I'm prepping for a concert weekend. it's going to be amazing, and I'm sure to have an entry on it. More on that as the week progresses.

My dreams are getting steadily stranger the longer I'm out of school. Mixtures of outer Space and Planet earth, doctor Who and choir rehearsals, trips around the world and people I know, everything all mixed up in a jumble that only seems really screwed up when the sunlight streams in through the window.

Usually, I love dreams. They are bizarre and interesting, a whole new story and way to escape the humdrum of reality. Sometimes, they help me work out my problems and offer solutions to my life. Other ones wake me up in a cold sweat. I've gotten to the point where I can usually tell what certain things mean in my dreams. Sharks are a fear of things changing or a fear of something beyond my control. Flying is something I want: maybe adventure or courage to reach beyond my perceived limits. The Weeping Angels (Doctor Who: look 'em up!) are a fear of what I can't see, what I can't predict: the knot of fear when you are alone int he house. Very few dreams stick around very long when I wake up, but sometimes I can etch certain details into my memory. I can still remember fragments of dreams I had as a kid. Or a recent dream that had a strong effect on me.

I thought that dairy before bed was what triggered the really scary dreams, but I think that other factors (like temperature) can trigger the bad ones. meditation or storytelling does help, but not always. Sometimes I just can't shake the scary feelings.

Actually, since the upcoming concert I'm in is called "Dreams and Visions," it has given me a chance to really think about my own dreams, especially the ones when I'm fast asleep. Maybe I'll crack the code soon on how to avoid the bad dreams all together. Or, maybe not.

"Hold fast to dreams."

Thankful

While cleaning the house today and listening to Lady Gaga, I did spend some time thinking about what I was thankful for.

I'm thankful for a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in the kitchen.
I'm thankful for my ability to cook.
I'm thankful for my family: my parents and my siblings, through thick and thin, we are together.
I'm thankful for my two wonderful, dogs: Dumbo and Dingbat (not their actual names)
I'm thankful for my music: words cannot describe how much this means to me. It makes me tick.
I'm thankful for my education: all three elementary schools, middle school, high school, and college.
I'm thankful for my friends: past, present, and future. You are the best support system I could wish for.
I'm thankful for my choir friends. They are a whole category in and of themselves.
I'm thankful for my job: the people I work with and the kids I teach.
I'm thankful for my mentors: you come in many shapes and forms, and you have all been completely inspiring.
I'm thankful for my ability to drive: with or without a car, it is a helpful thing to know.
I'm thankful for my study habits: they get me great grades and opportunities in life.
I'm thankful for my acting talent: I love finding new lives in the imaginary world.
I'm thankful for clever jokes I find on Facebook (like the following:

• I've had a horribly busy day converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.
• Forgive me for ignoring you. I was Writing in my head.
• Sometimes your "Knight in Shining Armor" is just a "Retard in Tin Foil."
• :(: Bipolar

"So for tonight, we pray for/ What we know can be,/ And on this day we hope for/ What we still can't see./ It's up to us to be the change/ And even though we all can still do more,/ There's so much to be thankful for."

Judas

So, Lady Gag's new album "Born This Way" was officially released today. I've heard some of the songs on the radio as they've been released (Born This Way which has already be parodied by "Weird Al" Yankovic in Perform This Way, Edge of Glory), but one that I had not heard as much was Judas.

Amazon was running a deal today, so I got the album and has already begun slowly working my way through it. Taking a hint from the name, I began to listen closely to the lyrics of the song, expecting a religious theme, seeing as Judas betrayed Jesus at Gethsemane. what i found was incredibly interesting. The lyrics are filled with references to the story of Jesus and his disciples during Holy Week. This was more than I was ever able to get listening to it once or twice on the radio while driving to work (which is probably a good thing as I should probably focus on the road while driving).

The link above is for the music video. The video itself essentially depicts Jesus and his disciples as a motorcycle gang with Gaga as Mary Magdalene. each disciple has his name on the back of his jacket, and "Jesus" has a crown of thorns on his head. Gaga, in addition to all of her crazy costumes that are the norm in her videos (and in pretty much all of her public appearances) has one outfit that is a red bandanna and a blue headscarf/shawl. Jesus is always trying to break up fights and use peace to keep everyone together. Judas is your typical "bad boy:" drinking, starting fights, and staring lustily at women.

While I think we have all come to expect really crazy things from Lady Gaga, I don't know if people were prepared for this particular video. Considering the amount of religious tension that can be seen everywhere on a day to day basis, I wondered how people would be reacting to the song and the video. On Youtube, the video has over 75,000 dislikes to its 235,000 likes. The comments are filled with arguments over whether or not people like Gaga (and a fair amount of curse words are thrown around as people try to defend their positions). My favorite comment is as follows:

"Why is everyone so against this song? She's basically saying that even though she tries to be good, everyone is tempted by the bad at certain times.Using Judas and Jesus' names were just a metaphor for the good and the bad. What's so wrong about that???"

I think this perfectly describes what she's getting at in the song. I don't think it's any kind of religious crack or commentary. Judas and Jesus happen to be one of the most well known pairs of good versus bad (I know it's more complex than that, but stay with me here). I have yet to meet someone who was not at least slightly tempted by something bad or forbidden; that is what Judas represents. Jesus is the symbol for the right path, the path of what is healthy and smart and good. However, that being said, it is very difficult to stick to the straight and narrow at any point in time; that's where choice comes in.  It's up to us to choose the good over the very tempting thing that might not be good for us: the bad boy, drugs, sex, food, etc. In the end, I think it is a clever, expressive way to describe a very prevalent issue. I personally like this song. I like Lady Gaga as an artist and for her bold self-expression. I mean, come on. What other artist could pull off a dress made of raw meat?

"I'm just a Holy fool/ Oh baby he's so cruel but/ I'm still in love with Judas baby."

Till the World Ends

Considering the current hype, I figured this title was very appropriate. I was really ticked to hear that people were saying the world is going to end today. Seeing as how everything dies as soon as it comes into existence, to hear people say that, "This is the beginning of the end of the world" is absolutely retarded (sorry if that's not politically correct). The world began to die 4.5 billion years ago. So there. That's my two cents. Although, I really do hate that little voice whispering, "But what if they're right?" Shut up, Voice. You don't have a say in this. So freaking there.

It's been a long week. With unpacking, adjusting to being home, job applications, work, choir, and a still messed up sleep schedule, I'm ready to drop. Go freaking figure. It also doesn't seem to matter how early I get up in the morning, my body refuses to fall asleep before 12:30 or 1 in the morning. it has been nice to not worry about papers and projects being due. Being out of school does wonders for keeping stress levels down.

I have a concert in a few hours; my brother is making dinner and then we'll leave for our call. The music is gonna be amazing, and I LOVE the people I'm singing with. I almost feel more at home in this choir than I actually do at home. I'll be thrilled to be singing, excited to get a good night sleep, and ecstatic to wake up safe and sound in my own bed in the morning.

I will say this: if the world had to end tonight, at least I know I will be with my family, and I will be making wonderful music that feeds my soul. That's all I really need, right?

"See that sunlight, we ain't stoppin'/ Keep on dancin' till the world ends./ If you feel it, let it happen/ Keep on dancin' till the world ends."

Coming Home

Well, the title was appropriate on Thursday when I meant to write it. As of May 12th, I am finished with my Freshman year of college!!!!! So much has happened this year for me academically, emotionally, and mentally that it has taken most of the last six days for me to start feeling like a human being again. A good portion of that comes from sleeping for 10 hours straight the last few days. It's amazing how inhuman you feel when sleep deprivation sets in. But, on some level, getting minimal sleep the last few weeks has been a good thing. The end of term grades I've gotten so far have been really good (all A or A-), and I was able to get most of my stuff packed and home before Thursday last week. Then, thanks to a computer virus one of my family members got, I've had to wait to use my computer until we did major maintenance on it.

My dorm room was so depressing with all of the pictures and posters down and packed. It's been nice to work on putting them up in my room at home, though. For the first time in 4 years, my room feels like a place I live and can call home as opposed to a room where I keep my ridiculous amount of stuff. I even spent last night putting up some of the strings of lights I got for my dorm room. In all honesty, my room at home now feels like a dorm room in the basement of my parents' house. :)

So much about me has changed in the past eight/nine months. I've relaxed in school, not to the point where I've let my grades slip, but I'm not so stuck up about having to study non-stop for 5 or 6 hours every day. I have a social life for the first time in 19 years, and I've discovered that I really enjoy it. I love having friends I can hang out with and can talk to on a regular basis. I trust myself to try new things and experiment more than I ever did before. I'm able to talk to my friends about more things too, trusting them more than I ever have before. I trust my own talent more, especially in acting. After playing "Van's Sister," I really feel that I have actual acting talent (Thanks Basic Acting I). I'm investing in relationships with other people to the point that I didn't want to say goodbye to my absolutely amazing roommate. I still have difficulty with things drawing to a close, but I know that I'll get to see all my friends again, probably sooner than I think.

This year away from home has been a true opportunity for me to grow. I would not trade it for anything in the world. Here comes the summer before my Sophomore year of college!!

"I'm coming home/ I'm coming home/ Tell the world I'm coming home/ Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday/ I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes/ I'm coming home/ I'm coming home/ Tell the world that I'm coming home."

The Fame

So, Dog Sees God closed last night. I really thought it wouldn't hit me as hard as it eventually did. I was still up at 2 this morning trying to deal with everything. The show itself was phenomenal. I loved the cast, I loved the crew, I loved the play, the entire experience was incomparable.

This entire week has been a bit surreal. I've gotten compliments from people who've seen things I was in before, but all week, I've had random students come up to me and say, "You were amazing in the show last night!" My acting teacher is so proud of me, I know my joy was shared by all my cast mates (who were also AMAZING). I've even had friends come back to see the show a second or third time because they enjoyed it so much.

The end of the show coincides with the end of classes and the beginning of finals. This coming week is going to be absolutely insane, but I know it will be wonderful to finish the year. As much as I already miss the show, I will miss my friends more over the summer. If Van's Sister was such an amazing part for me as a freshman in college, I almost can't wait to see where I am senior year.

After 19 years, I'm finally learning how to live. It feels amazing and scary and thrilling and painful and relaxing. And all I can say is, "Well, I's about mutherf---ing time!"- Van's Sister

"Give me something I wanna be/ Retro glamor, Hollywood yes we live for the Fame."

Linus and Lucy

I will start this post off by saying SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!! Do not read this if you have not yet seen and are intending to see Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead at FDU this week (8pm curtain in the Dreyfuss Theater). Once you've seen it, then read to your heart's content. I will be discussing a good portion of the show because, let's face it: opening night was amazing, and I am running hot after the performance. Oh, and did I mention that DSG is the Peanuts characters in high school?

We auditioned for this show the week we got back from winter break, so the end of January. We got the cast list 2 weeks later because of audition conflicts, illnesses, and callbacks. The day the cast list went out was the longest day EVER, and when we finally got it around 6:30 that night, I'm pretty sure you could hear me screaming for joy all the way across the campus. I got the part I wanted: Van's Sister aka Lucy Van Pelt. And to make things even more amazing, My roommate got CB's Sister aka Sally Brown. The cast is 8 people. The final breakdown is: 4 guys and 4 girls- 5 freshman, 1 sophomore, 1 junior, and 1 senior. AND, and, and, and, and a FRESHMAN GOT CB aka Charlie Brown. We were all so excited.

Rehearsals began on April 4th. The show opened May 4th. You do the math.

The read through was so fun. It was awesome to hear the characters through the voices of my friends. We would get our rehearsal schedules a day or two in advance, but before the first week was out, he had the ENTIRE SHOW roughly blocked. It was pretty cool, truth be told.

Then we began delving deeper into the blocking, the language, the crafting. I had to make sure I crafted with CB and Van aka Linus because Van's Sister had a relationship with CB and Van and Van's Sister are siblings (duh. Linus and Lucy). But I digress...

I think I was the first person completely off book, not gonna lie, although we were all off book by the 18th of April, only 2 weeks into the rehearsals. That seems like an eon ago already, a whole other lifetime. We've come so far since then, getting more comfortable with the blocking and the text and with each other. We are at the point where we are a family. When we're on pre-circ we're an incredibly dysfunctional family but a family none the less.

In the play, my character has been institutionalized for setting the "Little Red-headed Girl's" hair on fire. hehehe. That was really fun to craft. In her scene, CB comes to visit her for the first time since her incarceration, but what starts as her screwing with his head turns into him one-upping her for the first time since she's known him. The ensuing conversation is incredibly memorable and insanely fun to go through. He tells her that he kissed Beethoven (aka Schroeder) and that they've had sex, to which she replies, "You're a HOMO, CB!" On a side note, some of my absolute best friends are gay, so that line is totally her and not me; the hardest part of her character was not getting angry or the relationship with CB (which I truly thought it would be), it's the fact that she is a bit of a hater. Well, more than a bit. Well, she probably still has feelings for CB. Well, I mean, come on. Her ex just told her he's probably gay. What would you do?

In the end, she levels the playing field with the confession, "I was pregnant." Now, of course, no one knows if she actually was or not because she hasn't been fully serious with anything else the entire scene (I know because I had to decide of course, but I'm not telling), so she does leave CB hanging. The final moment when she calls him a blockhead is just so touching, even though she's shouting at him because it is so reminiscent of when they were kids that it just makes me want to smile (once I'm off stage in the shop doing my victory dance).

Oh, and did I mention that as part of my preparation to play Van's Sister, I learned how to knit and made the scarf used in the show by hand? No? Well, I did. I had my mom teach me over Spring Break (I started March 12) and I finished the scarf the Monday of Holy Week (April 18). It's yellow with a solid black section for the neck, black fringe, and a black zig-zag stripe at either end, the "Charlie Brown" stripe. We used the unfinished scarf (with the knitting needles still in it, I might add) for the few weeks of rehearsal when I was still working on it. When I got stuck at rehearsal, instead of doing homework (which I have started to regret), I would sit, watch the rehearsal, and knit. If I had a four hour slot that I got stuck there for, I could get a good 2 inches done. I was so excited to finish the scarf and feel like I'd really accomplished something important.

I think college has opened me up to being predictable in unpredictability because my final act this week to get into character was to dye my hair. Jet black. I'm still not totally used to it. I see it out of the corner of my eye and go, "O right. There's no red there anymore," but it's not until I look in a mirror that I go, "OMG. It's really, really dark now." I had one of the theater people dye it on the Dreyfuss steps on Tuesday afternoon. It looks fantastic. Oh, and did I mention it's permanent? I loved seeing the looks on my friends' faces as I told them this little detail.

I love having my own mirror in the shop for make-up. Our Beethoven made signs for everyone with our names and a cartoon of our character. I then went on Google and found several cartoons of Lucy to tape to the mirror. They make me smile, and they help me get into character, so they do their job very nicely. I especially love the one where Lucy is pulling the football away from Charlie Brown. That never gets old.

One of the best things about the opening night show (aside from the roar of applause and cheers after my scene which was AWESOME!!!!!!) was the fact that my parents, choir director + co, and choir friend ;-) were all there to see the show. It really warmed my heart to know that they were there and to see them afterwards. Thank you guys. It means more than words can ever begin to express.

I'm so proud of my fellow cast members. I can't wait to do this 3 more times. I know I will be so sad when it's over on Saturday, but we are gonna knock 'em dead!!!!!

(OK, so I wound up talking about my part of the show for most of this, but can you blame me? It could also be that it's 2 in the morning on Cinco de Mayo now, and I should probably be heading to bed. Roftlcopter.)

"Doo d' doo doodoodoo Dooooo dooo. Doo d' doo dooooooo"

I Will Survive

Tech Day. Lord help us all. Forgive me the next bit, I just need to vent to someone.

We've been here since noon. It's almost 8pm. We got to my scene 20 minutes ago, spent 10 on it including running transitions, then moved on. We probably won't get to the end of the show for at least another 3 hours. The director and the lighting guru are constantly fighting. It's like a constant power struggle.

Because the house lights have to be out while we tech the show, it's been very unproductive from a homework standpoint. I would've fallen asleep taking a nap earlier if the floor hadn't felt like ice. Our nerves are all starting to wear thin. Dinner break was more than 2 hours ago. And on top of everything else, the work I was planning to do during this time is still sitting undone because I can't read in the dark.

Ok. I already feel better. This whole week has just been looooooooong, and the upcoming week is the infamous Hell Week: tech week, opening night, the run of the show, and closing night. In addition, it's also the last week of classes. I wonder if there are ones I can sleep through to make up for midnight crafting sessions with my Basic Acting I partner...it is just going to be one of those weeks.

"I will survive"

I Need a Doctor

I've wanted to write this entry for awhile now and haven't gotten to it. I will do my best to not give away any spoilers. Hehe. Spoilers.

My favorite British, Sci-Fi TV show right now is Doctor Who.

Originally premiering in 1963, Doctor Who follows the story of a 900+ year old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey who travels the universe in a Blue Police Box called a TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space). Ok, I know that's a lot of info, so I'll break it down. The Time Lords were a race of aliens that possessed a binary vascular system (they have 2 hearts) and an impeccable knowledge of history. In the great Time War with the Dalek Race (a genetically engineered race whose prime directive is to "EXTERMINATE!" all races that are not Dalek), the Time Lords were destroyed, all except the Doctor. How he escaped and ended the Time War are still fairly unclear, although it is mentioned that the Time War is Time Locked, so not even he can go back and change things. He is a lonely wanderer destined to travel time and space (did I mention that the TARDIS is a time machine and a spaceship?)

The Show went off the air in the 1980s but was restarted in 2005 starring Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper as the 9th Doctor and Rose Tyler, respectively. Eccleston regenerated at the end of Season 1 and was replaced by David Tennant who held the role until 2009. He went through 3 seasons, 3 companions, and several Doctor Who specials before he regenerated into the 11th Doctor, Matt Smith.

The Doctor typically has a young, human female companion that travels with him. The companion helps keep the Doctor sane since when he spends too much time alone, he begins to lose some of his finer qualities, especially compassion. The only problem with the companions is that they are destined to part ways with the Doctor eventually. Some of them, like Sarah Jane Smith and Martha Jones, do manage to reunite temporarily with the Doctor, but usually, once they are gone, they stay gone.

In addition to their unusual biology, Time Lords don't exactly "die" in the simplest form of the word. Instead, they regenerate. What does this mean? This means that the current Doctor "dies" and a new Doctor steps into his shoes. Literally. What this means for the show is new actors can take over the role with each regeneration., The current season features the 11th incarnation of the Doctor as portrayed by Matt Smith. However, the Doctor is at his most vulnerable during his regeneration cycle.

The Doctor's favorite tool and most handy device is his Sonic Screwdriver. The 5th doctor is the only one to not use it (he preferred the MacGyver method of saving the universe). the Sonic Screwdriver is very good at opening or locking doors (unless they are made of wood), but it can also boost radio signals, fix wiring connections, or shut down entertainment systems. The Doctors in the new series are never seen without it, and each screwdriver is unique to each Doctor (he gets a new one post-regeneration)

There is a great deal of debate as to who the best incarnation of the Doctor is. I have yet to watch the original series, so I have to reserve my official, overall judgement until then, but based solely on the New Series alone, my favorite Doctor is David Tennant hands down. I really liked Eccleston, especially toward the end of Season 1 when he really began to regain his pacifism and compassion that I always associate with the Doctor, and Matt Smith has a definite absent-minded, odd, not-quite-human quality about him that makes him a perfect Doctor, but I just simply love the 10th Doctor. Part of it is the way he speaks: clever, witty, a bit cheeky, and very thoughtful. Tennant's Doctor is one that I just trust innately and believe without a shadow of a doubt that he will be able to fix everything and save the world.

One of the best things about the series is all of the different types of lifeforms and aliens we get to see. From Sontarens to Daleks to Cybermen to Sycorax to Atraxi to Weeping Angels to Jagrafess to Adipose to Vashta Nerada, every episode has a new adventure and/or a new species to discover. Some of them are benign while others are deadly and will stop at nothing to defeat the Doctor or destroy the world. Some give me nightmares while others I'd actually like to meet.

At this point, it's difficult to go any further without disclosing major "Spoilers" as Professor River Song would say. So I will leave you with a quote from the Doctor: "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause-to-effect but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff."

"I'm running out of time/ I need a doctor..."

Umbrella

So, the seasons decided to stop fighting. Winter has finally left until later this year, but I think it took Spring with it. If yesterday and today's humidity is any indication, the only remnants of a very short Spring are the flowers and budding trees. Other than that, it sure as heck feels like Summer.

If I hadn't seen the rain this morning, I wouldn't have believed it. As it happened, I was looking out the window at just the right moment; one minute, it was cloudy and dry, and the next there was SIDEWAYS TORRENTIAL RAIN! I was reminded of camera crews with vats of water and fans. The winds were howling and battering the dorm, and I had to rush to shut the windows to prevent our room from getting drenched. Of course, this would be the day I had to lug "my room" to the Barn for Basic Acting, and it would be the day that I left my umbrella in Dreyfuss during last night's DSG rehearsal. On top of all of this, we had a freaking TORNADO WARNING|?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Everything is starting to wind up and wind down at the same time. School is drawing to a close, the show draws ever nearer, and it's almost time for summer. I'm sure everything will begin to completely revolve around DSG next week.

"Now that it's raining more than ever/ Know that we'll still have each other/ You can stand under my umbrella/ You can stand under my umbrella."

Teenage Dream

The teenage mind is a very complex and intricate thing. Well, for girls it is at least. The mind is filled with thoughts about school, work, boys, clothes, books, boys, movies, music, boys, cars, boys, love, boys, boys, boys,........ok. Maybe it's not so complicated.

The hardest thing about being single is seeing all the couples in love, regardless of how the relationship actually is. For me, my brain decides to have me develop a crush to deal with the inner pain of being single. Unfortunately, the guy is usually unattainable or not interested or...bats for the other team. My gay-dar is so completely broken that unless the guy is flaming, I honestly can't tell. I'd rather have a perfectly functioning gay-dar, personally. But, I digress...

It always happens when I decide to not look and to get comfortable with myself: who I am, where I am, what is going on in my life, stuff like that. And, without fail, less than 3 days after that decision, BAM! I'm completely smitten by someone. I don't actively seek it out, I don't plan for it to happen. And until it hurts so much that I have to let go of it and move on, it's wonderful. Except for the fact that he can't know. He can't ever know.

Yesterday, I decided to let go of my current crush. As hard as it is, it was getting to be too painful, mixed with all of the emotions stirred up from Holy Week, I couldn't handle how I was feeling, and as wonderful as it was to have this crush, it was no longer serving me well. I suppose my only concern now is who my brain will set its sights on next. I guess I'll find out. Or not. Maybe this will be the time where I don't look and don't notice. Part of me really hopes so.

I now turn to Katy Perry again for some final words of wisdom to leave you with. I've really grown close to her music in the past few weeks. The songs and lyrics are really applicable to real life and have meaning for me. Last night's title and today's title are both hers.

"My heart stops/ When you look at me/ Just one touch/ Now baby I believe/ This is real/ So take a chance/ And don't ever look back/ Don't ever look back."

Pearl

I've felt like Humpty Dumpty for the last few days. All the emotions stirred up last week have been swirling around in my head and my heart and as of this afternoon, I felt broken beyond repair. There was too much going on inside, and I was unable to find any solace from the constant shouting in my head. Had I known this was coming, I would have prepared appropriately, but I didn't so I wasn't.

I was sure that "all the king's horses and all the king's men" would be completely useless in putting me back together again, but a walk outside, a relaxing shower, and a long talk with my mom helped start the process. Long story short, I'm now slowly rebuilding my brain and will be asleep very soon. My life rules and personal image have essentially shattered into billions of pieces and need to be reassembled into what I want them to be now: lessen my judgmental tendencies, change my stance on issues that have been immovable, strengthen and increase the amount of positive affirmations floating around, pretty much making myself into the woman I want to be.

One of the major discoveries form this morning was the recognition of different kinds of love: love of desire/lust/love=WANT and usually shows up when out of a relationship versus the love of true love/soul mates/ lifetime of fulfillment. The difference is astounding because I currently feel one the former and have seen the latter in action. My mom explained that men tend to see the big picture while women tend to end up with a narrow, almost OCD view of a particular problem, and that they balance each other out; men help women open up while women help men to bring their focus in. It made a great deal of sense, especially since I can see the aforementioned tendencies in my own life.

I was planning to write more, but I think I ran out of words (that and my eyelids feel like lead weights are attached). Here is Katy Perry to say what I cannot:

"You don't have to be a shell, No/ You're the one who rules your world/ You are strong and you'll learn/ That you can still go on/ And you'll always be a pearl."

This is the Day

The insanity is over!!!!! I get my life back! Yes, Holy Week has drawn to a close with the big extravaganza that is the Easter Morning double service: bells, brass, full organ, over 60 voices in the choir, and TONS of logistical challenges. You'd think that our director was asking us to launch rockets into space instead of walking in a straight line. :P

The vergers used incense in the service again. Coupled with the scents from the flowers, it gives the church a wonderful smell: full, rich, layered. I love it.

Of course, today would be the most hot and humid day of the last month. By the time we were finished with the 11:15 service, it was 83 degrees Fahrenheit!!!! It was so warm in the gallery of the church that our cottas (the white, puffy shirt that goes over the robe) was sticking to the back of the pews. That combined with the restless nature of the school choirs and the extremely talkative nature of all children under the age of 19, most of the time, I felt frustrated. I was essentially relying on prayer that the gallery didn't get too loud and disruptive and that they would sing the right song at the right time.

The title for this entry was inspired by the kid's anthem "This is the Day." It is definitely one of our favorite pieces to sing. It has a definite gospel feel, a good beat, and it's not too simple. My director told me on Friday that I'd be conducting the piece (oh great), but it wasn't bad at all. In this case, conducting meant nodding at the soloists when it was their turn to sing, and dancing for the choir. I'm not kidding. I was up there bouncing my arms, using gestures, and grinning like an idiot, trying to get the group looking happy and moving a bit. I essentially kept the beat with my body. It was actually a lot of fun, and at both services it got applause. Actually, one of the best moments in the piece was when some of the adult Choir basses began clapping during the piece; the got most of the church clapping along at one point. Thank you, basses. :)

Our priest gave a very interesting sermon today. As always, there was a gentle remark about the flux in attendance that is associated with today, but then she began to talk about the gospel reading. She even acknowledged that there are people who think the whole thing is a load of pious nonsense, but she said, "Well, it's our story." She went on to talk about Rob Bell, an Evangelist who is annoying the other Evangelists because what he says and what he writes sounds more like an Episcopalian than anything else. In his book Love Wins (I really like that title), he talks about how Heaven and Hell are not concrete places we will go in the future. Hell is separation from God through sin/ letting other people rule you/ being untrue to yourself. Heaven is letting God tell our story instead of telling our own story of ourselves. When we start telling our story (usually accompanied by a great deal of self-abuse), we "lose our way" so to speak. I thought the whole take was interesting because I believe in Heaven and Hell on Earth, and I believe that we make them for ourselves.

The second time through was better and worse. It was much harder to keep my energy up, and certain things felt a bit sluggish (*cough* prelude *cough*), but the logistics worked out better and our director didn't have to scream at us (oops). Our director even told us that we could take a break during the sermon since we'd heard it once already. We sat in the library and talked and sang.

The peace at the 11:15 service was the best, though. I was saying peace to the Altos, working my way down to the Sopranos when one of the girls from the Red Choir came over to say peace. Before I knew it, I was there for thirty seconds giving out handshakes and hugs to a whole swarm of Red Choir kids. I made it back to the Sopranos and finally managed to make it to the Bass section to say peace to one of my friends. We hugged and as we broke apart, the church seminarian cam over and teased us, saying that "She wanted to see the Holy Ghost between us." After we both gave her a blank stare, she explained that when boys and girls were dancing together at Catholic School, that was what the nuns would say. This had us both in fits of laughter.

As a good friend of mine would say, I probably have "church poisoning." It's like food poisoning only with religion. You get to the point where you've been at church SOOOOOO much that you'd be happy if you never set foot in the building again. But it passes after a few days. I'll be back there later this week for rehearsal and to assist my director.

In conclusion, after this entire week of services and rehearsals and actually paying attention in church, I'm not sure what I believe. There are certain things that still ring true, but there are others that just fall too short. I remember earlier this week hearing a prayer to bless all those who had not found the true path and who had strayed. I had been in the middle of deep prayer and suddenly felt like everything I had been feeling vanished into thin air. It felt like the stereotypical Christian line about needing to "save other people." And yet, there were other moments where I felt almost religious, where I could almost believe what was being taught. I suppose time will tell, but for now I want to kick back, relax, and not think about church or religion for a few days. Happy Easter!

"This is the feast of victory for our God. Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!!!"

Christus Resurrexit

Tonight, we had our annual Easter Vigil service at church, also called the Taize service (I'll explain why in a minute). It is the most mystical and, I think, interesting service of the whole year. The first half of the service, through the renewal of Baptismal vows is in the dark, the church lit by candles and light in the gallery (so the choir can see). the bulletin says the lights are like this to simulate being inside the tomb with Jesus. Creepy.

It's called the Taize service because we sing all of the music from this orange book of Taize music. We also have about 15-20 instrumentalists playing a variety of instruments (French horn, Barry Sax, Trumpet, Sitar, Recorder, Flute, and Oboe just to name a few. I think we had guitar and ukulele as well tonight). Every piece of music has an "intro to the Intro" which is our choir director's way of cluing us in to which piece we are doing and letting the instruments playing the real intro know that it is time to start. This service is also famous for its "roadmaps" which tell

1. What order the pieces are in
2. What instruments play when
3. Who has what solos
4. When we sneak down from the gallery to the chancel
5. And how many times we will repeat a refrain
6. And so much more (or maybe that's about it)

We were absolutely packed tonight; the choir was bursting at the seams in the pews, spilling into the overflow pews. We didn't even all fit in the gallery. Our director had to send some of us down to the back of the church to sing. As I was an instrumentalist and a soloist, I got to remain in the gallery. But, in the end, what mattered was how we sounded, and the music was wonderful.

After the cauldron and all the candles were lit (and yes, we do start with a cauldron), the Exsultet was chanted by our director. It was sublime. There is something very ancient and beautiful about plainsong, and I had to work to stay in my body. I was so relaxed and peaceful that I was sorry to have it end.

The readings tonight, prior to the lights being on, were from the Old Testament. We heard "The Creation Story," "Noah and the Flood," "The Parting of the Red Sea," and "The Valley of Dry Bones." Again, this is my first time really paying attention to the readings and the services during Holy Week, and aside from the fact that when they were talking about it raining for 40 days and 40 nights I could hear Bill Cosby say, "Let it rain for 40 days and 40 nights and wait for the sewers to back up," I didn't really zone out. I did however come up with questions and internal commentary during the readings, especially during the Red Sea. I know the "Old Testament God" is angry and vengeful, but did he have to kill all of the Egyptians? Did he have to "harden their hearts" so that they would follow the Israelites across the Red Sea, only to drown? I know the Egyptians enslaved the Israelites, but it didn't seem right to murder them. God had already taken all of the firstborn sons. Wasn't that enough?

I played the recorder tonight. That was my instrument (aside from my voice), and I ALWAYS get nervous playing the recorder in front of people. No matter how long or how hard I practice, I'm always very nervous when I go to play. In the end, everything went fine, and with Taize music, it doesn't matter if you mess up because it all sounds fine in the end; it's not Mozart or anything like that.

When we were finished with renewing the Baptismal vows, the lights were flipped on and the "Strife is o're" so to speak. We are now allowed to say the "A" word (Begins with "A" and ends with "lleluia"), and we said it numerous times from then on, celebrating the end of Lent and of the suffering portion of Holy Week. It was so nice having it back in the service, not having to worry about saying it accidentally, especially as a chorister. The rule about it being forbidden lasts only 24 hours for choristers because we have to start practicing our Easter music as soon as Ash Wednesday is over.

After the service was over, we had refreshments, including the now traditional "Peepshi" which are Peeps wrapped in Rice Krispie Treats and Fruit Roll-ups to look like sushi rolls. They are so cute and so delicious. I spent a short amount of time by the food, mostly talking to a friend and my brother before I headed back into the choir room to clean and organize. My director and I were done setting up the room for tomorrow's services before 10pm. We rock.

By the time this posts, it will tomorrow already (HAPPY EASTER). It's been a very long day, beginning with one of my best friends crashing in my dorm for the night and ending with the anticipation of a double service of amazing music, wrangling kids, and a full house. Should be loads of fun. ;)

"Hmmm. Christus Resurrexit, Christus Resurrexit! Hmmm. Alleluia! Alleluia!"

Steal Away

Yesterday was Good Friday, probably the most depressing day of the year (like Valentine's Day is for single people). I was at church from 8:30 in the morning until 5:50 in the afternoon, leaving in a hurry to run back for a play run through. I attended/sat through/sang/ wrangled kids for the 3 hour Good Friday service from noon to 3. I chose the title for this entry from the song the guys performed today, a spiritual entitled "Steal Away" that was absolutely gorgeous.

One of the "Meditations" which are like mini-sermons really spoke to me . It was all about control and about how in order to fully experience the resurrection on Easter, one has to let go of all control. Only by relinquishing our grip on control can we "die and be reborn." One of the points made was about love and how in love, we are at our most vulnerable and have to let go of our control and risk being broken so badly we almost can't be put back together again.

I want that. I want to let go of my control and fall in love, the kind that sweeps you off your feet and stuns you beyond all normal reason. I feel so many times that I am repeating myself with what I wish for, but I hope that by saying it enough and thinking about it enough, I can draw it to myself. Maybe I'll get to the point where I can be vulnerable and risk it all for that one special person.

"Steal away, steal away home/ I ain't got long to stay here."

Gethsemane (I Only Want to Say)

Today in Maundy Thursday, the official day of the Last Supper for the Christians. Tomorrow is Good Friday, but I'm not quite there yet.

The service was quite sublime tonight. I was very satisfied with the choir as a whole. Our director uses a great deal of plain song (aka Gregorian Chant) during this service: the Kyrie, Psalm, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, and Hymn 166 were all chanted. I found it added a whole other level of mystery to the service. We sang the Mozart Ave Verum as the offertory, definitely one of my favorite pieces ever.

But something happened tonight that I didn't expect, probably because it hasn't happened before. during the Stay with Me, a Taize piece we sang at Communion, I was so moved by the music and the voices singing the solos that I was just about in tears (just about because my eyes were filled with them but I didn't actually let myself cry; I didn't want my mascara to create railroad tracks on my cheeks). I've never cried in church before. I'd blame it simply on the music (which was GORGEOUS) except for the fact that I was actually connecting with the lyrics of the song. Again, I'm deliberately paying close attention to the story as it unfolds this year, so to hear one of the soloists asking to have the "cup taken away so he didn't have to drink," knowing that he is asking to not have to die for his people, that is insanely moving. And then the second soloist concedes with "God's Will" and agrees to die; I really thought I was going to lose all my control.

So now I am back in my dorm, going through what I suppose can only be called a "crisis of faith." I don't necessarily believe what is being said is the absolute, unfathomable truth (as I've said previously), but something in the story is really moving me. I don't go to church to be moved; I go to sing and make music. I don't go to worship, I go to spend time with people I like and admire and want to continue singing with. So to be sitting in the service almost in tears was very bizarre and kind of scary for me. I wonder where I will be in three days after the Easter Services.

"I only want to say/ If there is a way/ Take this cup away from me/ For I don't want to taste it's poison..."

Hosanna

It's Holy Week. Again. And it's late this year. And it's the same week as Passover, but I think it happens that often. I can't remember.

Every year, we (my family and I) listen to "Jesus Christ Superstar" leading up to Good Friday and Easter. Sometimes I listen to "Godspell" as well. I feel they really help set the mood for the week. My family, choir director, and a bunch of my friends agree. Besides, the week is hard enough already. A bit of music helps it to not be quite so depressing.

I paid attention to the Passion Reading in church for the first time since my Dad read the part of Jesus may years ago. However, I'm pretty sure this is my first time truly "grokking" the entire story. For some reason, the "audience participation" portion of the Passion struck my differently this year than it has before; I found myself feeling depressed and despondent. I didn't want to join in with "Let him be Crucified," and just saying the words made me feel bad about being a human being. I felt so sorry for Jesus.

I don't think I ever thought I would say that.

I don't consider myself truly religious. I'm Episcopalian by attendance (and employment), officially undecided by choice, and would probably consider Music to be my true religion if I had to pick something. I have more out-of-body experiences or moments where my soul feels completely at peace while singing than while doing anything else. I haven't really found solace in religion since I was 8 years old and decided that I was tired of hearing the same old story over and over and over and over again. The image of an old guy on a throne of clouds just out of sight in the sky or the whole idea that we humans are guilty just by existing or that a woman is blamed for Original Sin (NOT FAIR) no longer held any meaning to significance for me. I suppose I was officially disillusioned from religion before I'd been on the Earth for a decade.

We left the church I had attended for 3-4 years soon after. It was the first church choir I sang in, and as it coincided with my early piano lessons, it helped reinforce my lessons in basic musicianship and in reading music. I loved the game where our choir director would play through the hymn and we had to tell him where he was when he stopped playing. I had my first vocal solo in that choir. I think it was during communion if I'm remembering it right. I was 6, maybe 7. That time is very difficult for me to remember.

We took a few years off from church before Dad got a summer job at the next one we attended. As it turned out, I had friends there already from NJYC and from other activities, so at least I wasn't a complete loner. The choir there was mush smaller than the one I was in before. My two friends and I were the oldest members of the children's choir (made up of 10 people or less on a good day, 3 or 4 on a low attendance day), and after awhile, I began singing in the adult choir. Trouble was, I didn't like rehearsing for so long after finishing a church service. I'd rather hang out with my friends.

Then, while we were slowly fading from the second church for a variety of reasons, we stumbled upon our current church. Our current choir director was in charge of teaching the 2008 September Song music to the children's choir. My brother and I were in the group. After one of the rehearsals, she asked if I would consider auditioning for Harmonium. My dad and I both did and got in. We've been in the group since, and we've been joined by my mom and one of my brothers. The other brother will be old enough very, very soon.

My youngest brother joined the school choir and my older younger brother joined the teen boy group at church. I avoided going to church from a month, attending the St. Francis Sunday Service in October as my first service there.

I had never seen such a large children's choir at church. Ever. In my life.

There must have been between 40 and 60 kids walking up to the choir stalls that morning, all between the ages of 4 and 18. Mom had to remind me to stop staring and close my mouth. Then they began singing. I was stunned. Thisdirector was able to get such an amazing sound from volunteers?!?!?!?!?!

She asked me if I wanted to sing the All Saints Sunday concert as we were doing the Rutter Requiem (which is my favorite) and which we were also preparing in Harmonium to sing at Carnegie Hall in March of the following year (which was AMAZING). I agreed and began attending Friday rehearsals. After the concert, I didn't leave the church. I stuck around and became an official choir member. It has been the most unique church choir experience I've had by far. Every Friday, we arrive to rehearsal for snack prior to singing. The choir is divided into groups based on grade, and there is an overlap in time with the groups. You can always tell when it's been a long week and we are tired because we forget to be quiet, although, come to think of it, that is most weeks. However, we quickly remember when we see our choir director go to whistle. That could quiet any group in less than a second.

Since then, I've gone through choir training, RSCM training, exponentially improved my musicianship (but I really have Harmonium to thank for that part), boosted my musical confidence, become a choir leader, and have gotten myself employed at church teaching the 3-7 year old children music on Fridays.

Every week we sing a variety of music with our choir that, on a low attendance Sunday, outnumbers the congregation.. It has taken me 2 and a half years to come to terms with the fact that I don't believe the words I am singing, but that I am singing as a way to give back to the community and that it doesn't matter whether or not I believe it as long as I am helping make beautiful music. I used to be very resentful that I had gotten roped into another church, but as I began to learn from my choir director, got to know the choristers and the parents, and now have my own group of choristers, I find that I want to go to rehearsals. I've even started going to the Thursday night adult rehearsals at the beginning of Lent this year.

You used to have to drag me to choir, and now, I get there at least 10-20 minutes before my director. I find myself cleaning the choir room after rehearsals, putting away the folders of the kids who don't show up on Sundays, or, like this past Palm Sunday, volunteering to sing an extra service to make sure the voice part balance is there. For the first time in my life, I want to be at church, but I still don't totally believe everything that is said or taught. Sometimes, my parents can explain things in a way that makes more sense to me and to my own beliefs about the universe, but when I actually start paying attention in the service and realize just how awful the week leading up to Easter was for Jesus, more so than I EVER HAVE BEFORE, it makes me wonder just how proud I should be to be a human being. As my mom stressed after the service, I should focus on the fact that he forgave those who had wronged him, but it didn't totally put my conscience at ease.

I'm not sure what I believe, but I know my beliefs are a compilation of a whole bunch of religions and philosophies. I figure that as long as I keep asking questions and exploring, I'll figure it out, but that was the whole reason I refused to get confirmed in the Christian Faith. I've faced subtle pressure from some of my peers and from some of the clergy at churches since I turned 13, but

1. I think 13 is way too young to commit to a single religion as the true faith. I didn't have nearly enough experience in life and religion to make that choice then. At 19, I still don't think I have enough knowledge or experience.
2. I couldn't say what I had to for confirmation and truly believe it in my heart. I did not want to lie in front of the bishop. Geez.

And now I'm back in the throws of Holy Week, at church Palm Sunday, Tuesday for the Easter Dress with Brass, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Saturday for the Easter Vigil, and Easter Sunday. Here goes nothing.

Hosanna/ Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Hosanna /Hey Sanna Hosanna/ Hey JC, JC won't you smile at me?/ Sanna Hosanna/ Hey Superstar 

Crazy

It's hard to believe it's been almost a week since I last wrote in this. The whole week has just been, well, crazy. Between taking care of the dogs, hiring people to help care for the dogs, DSG rehearsals, DSG cast drama, Stacie getting sick (our acting teacher who NEVER cancels class for anything), hour long chats with people who are becoming good friends, discovering I have a social life for the first time in 19 years, attempting (and mostly failing) to accomplish homework, getting to actual work on time, skipping class due to car trouble, praying my rides showed up on time, and having my family get back from Disney, I'm freaking exhausted.

With only 3 weeks of classes left of the year, I'm trying to figure out where all the time has gone. School may be drawing to a close, but most other things won't end until June (Harmonium season, Chapel Choir, etc). zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..z...zzz

I think I need sleep. Like, no joke. I need to go to sleep. Right now. Aw, *******. Right, I have an essay to write.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

I'm in Love with my Car

I love my choir. I really and truly do. I would not give it up for anything in the world. But the downside to rehearsing a half an hour away from my home is driving home late at night.

10:30 pm: I hit a pothole last night on my way home from rehearsal. I was going through the Great Swamp and it literally came out of no where, like one of those portable holes you see in cartoons. The right front tire bouned hard in the hole, jarring the whole car. I didn't notice anythign wrong until a few minutes later when the wheel was overcorrecting; if I relaxed my grip on the wheel, the car veered right. It wasn't until I turned onto Long Hill Road that the tire went completely flat, popping off the rim.

10:40 pm: I pulled off to the side of the road and called my parents, and then a friend.

11:10 pm: My friend gets there to help, but the lugnuts are completely stuck. They won't budge at all.

12:00 pm: I park the car in a driveway (the owner of the driveway had come home and gave me permission), and my friend drove me home.

2:00 am: I finally fell asleep.

7:00 am: I called our Mechanic who sent the tow truck out. He picked up the car and took it back to our mechanic.

9:00 am: I got the scoop. As it turns out, one of the lugnuts is broken. Thank God it's only one. But I am now grounded in town and can't get to school, and I tried registering for classes but Webadvisor says I haven't met with all my advisors yet, and you name it, it's probably wrong right not.

Why does everything happen late at night, in the middle of nowhere, and when your family is out of town?

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

Find Yourself

Do you ever feel so entirely lost and adrift in your life that you wish everything would just disappear, and when it finally does, you regret ever having the thought in the first place?

I have. I do.

I feel awash in a sea of everything today. I'm sure part of it is that I'm home/at school/dog-sitting while my family is in Disney for the NPHS music trip. Grrrrrrrrrrr. I know I volunteered to help out while they are gone and I have class and I have work and I have rehearsal, but seriously? Disney? Plus, I get daily texts as to which park they are going to each day. Seriously? Seriously!

Another part of the problem is that I'm crafting for acting this week, as always. For some reason, my crafting always manages to get me thinking about it ALL THE TIME, especially with relationship crafting. That's always fun (read w/sarcasm). I'd say what my situation is, but it has to remain secret until Thursday. And I'm not just crafting for class, I'm also crafting for my play, Dog Sees God. I'm playing Lucy Van Pelt as a teenager, and I have two full months of events to craft that involve only one other character in the play: Linus, and I only see him twice in those two months (only in the play we are Van and Van's Sister as it is an unauthorized parody of The Peanuts characters). You'll have to come see it if you want to know why I'm thinking so hard about it, although I will say this: I learned how to knit for this part. (May 4-7 at FDU-Madison).

But I'm not just thinking about the imaginary world, I'm also thinking about the real world. Crafting just gets the storytelling juices flowing, and before I know it, I'm telling all sorts of ridiculous stories about all kinds of people, either invented or real.

So I keep searching. I keep hoping on some level that everything will work out the way it is supposed to, even when I am impatient or sick of hearing the same answer for the millionth time. It seems to be a non sequitur that I seem to be this intelligent, smart, (hopefully) funny, personable individual, yet can't seem to date anyone, that and the fact that it is nearly impossible for me to actually get out two comprehensible words around a guy I like. After 19 years of being single, it gets really freaking ridiculous. And EVERYBODY says, "You'll find the right person, just give it time." That is probably the biggest cop-out answer ever invented, nor does it do anything to lift the spirits. Especially if you have a decidedly clear talent for crushing on just about every single gay man in a 5 mile radius. Mostly, it's because I just can't tell most of the time (which sucks by the way), but it's also because more often than not, they are the guys who are into music and theater, and I don't see them as intimidating. At least, that's how I've rationalized the entire situation.

Another frequent result of my crushes (if th guy isn't gay) is that he is simply not interested like that and just wants to be friends. I'd rather set myself on fire and jump off a bridge than to hear, "I just want to be friends" one more time. Eventually, I figure out how to move forward, but those relationships always feel a bit awkward afterwards. Hence, I rarely admit to guys that I have a crush on them. I keep my thoughts and feelings to myself, unless I just desperately need to confide in a friend because the thoughts are threatening to rip me apart.

Guess I just needed to vent a bit. I dunno. Part of me feels like this will never change while the other part is strangely optimistic that things will change. I'm not sure what to believe anymore. I sometimes wonder if my crafting is the only way I will see such relationships.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

Would I Lie to You?

So, in Basic Acting I, one of the things we have to work on are our resistance walls. These are areas of our emotions or actions that we have difficulty dealing with. For me, I have a great deal of resistance around

• Getting angry
• Exploring sensuality
• Expressing the truth
• Taking a risk that makes me vulnerable to ridicule/looking foolish/criticism

and those are just a few.

Our assignment for this week was a crafted party. We had to meet with all of our classmates and craft (create) relationships. They had to be meaningful and strong. I was acquaintances with a few, best friends with others, mortal enemies of one, and completely in love with the last. In addition to our crafting, we had to have a "life at the party," an activity or goal for something to happen or for us to do while there. Mine was telling the person I was in love with how I felt. Did I mention that it was an engagement part for two of our classmates? (Remember, this is ALL crafted).

So, I spent several of the first minutes at the party feeling like I was about to blow chunks. All I could think about was how nervous I was and how much the thought of confessing my love terrified me. I finally managed to confront my resistance and push through it (telling him how I felt and facing the consequences), resulting in a great deal of tears before I could regain control. I must say though, I'm very proud of myself for feeling instead of shutting down as is my want.

The first part was over an hour long, but the kicker came when our professor told us to forget everything that had happened, go back to our initial crafting, and do the party again! We did, and it certainly went differently. Partway through, our teacher turned out the lights which would have been fine if she also hadn't taken big heavy things and hit the walls and doors, creating a booming sound, like something was trying to get in. My grasp on the imaginary world slipped as my personal terror of the dark took hold, my brain supplying frightening images of irrational fears. I was forced to remove myself from the final few moments of the exercise in order to regain my feelings of safety and of reality.

I probably work harder for this class than any other. It feels great to succeed, but the process itself is terrifying. I took some huge risks today, feeling very much the way I do when I perform: nervous, slightly ill, but energized and very much alive. That balance can be the very difference between success and failure, even when it scares the pants off of me. I hope to be able to reach the point where I'm not afraid to take risks but am afraid to let them go by.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

True to Life

So, today I got the note that, "I'm playing it too nice. I need to be meaner."

I love being in the imaginary world. You get to do just about anything, but separating it from real life is really difficult. So, when I have to play someone who is always cruel to the other character, it's hard to keep myself separate. I personally being intentionally cruel, but Van's Sister always feels she is in the right. I should be able to keep them separate, right?

I love my scene with CB. We spend the whole time in a constant state of trying to maintain power over each other. I'm supposed to look for any opportunity to push him down, to be "dominant" on so many words, but the actor playing CB is so nice and funny and we have so much fun. But I have to be meaner and tougher. Grrrrrr.

I love The Peanuts. I truly do. But now, the fact that I love Charlie Brown is hindering my ability to be Lucy. Is everything always this complicated? Does the imaginary world have a clear-cut door? What's the best way to stay separate from what's real and what's make believe?

Because I lost that distinction many years ago...

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

The Firebird

This past weekend, I went on the FDU Honors Program trip to Portland, Maine. We attended the Northeast Region Honors Conference. It is held in a different city every year (next year is Baltimore, and 2013 will be in Philly), I had to write a proposal for a paper that I then wrote and presented at the conference. The theme this year was “Resurgam” which is Latin for “I will Rise Again.”

My paper was on Harry Potter as the first thing I thought about after reading the conference theme was Fawkes the Phoenix. I decided to explore the theme of humanity as it pertains to rebirth in Rowling’s septet. Voldemort is a negative rebirth that destroys humanity, creating a twisted mockery of what was there before. This descent from humanity is accompanied by a distinct physical change and the marked loss of remorse. Voldemort goes bald, his eyes become red slits, and his nose is that of a snake; he also feels no remorse when he kills, and he kills often. The positive rebirth sheds the negative aspects of the person to let them grow. This is seen in Fawkes and Harry (but I won’t give any spoilers).

I wasn’t nervous about presenting my paper until it was my turn, and then my knees wouldn’t stop shaking, but it went of beautifully. I was more concerned about the Q&A, but since the room was full to bursting with Potter fans, it was so much fun to discuss the books we all know and love.

Humanity is such an interesting topic that I could discuss for hours. It defines us, makes us who we are. Without it, we cannot love, laugh, form attachments, get married, have relationships, experience loss, feel true pain and anguish, see the true good and bad things in life and then pick ourselves up and keep going. It is such a blessing and a curse, but somehow, I don't think we would want it any other way. The alternative is an imitation of existence, one that doesn't even begin to compare to the fullness and richness of the lives we currently lead. Even on the days when I wish everything would truly disappear, if I can remember just one reason that I am glad to be alive, somehow, everything else gets just a little bit brighter.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

Stayin' Alive

Humans versus Zombies (HvZ) has begun again. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, allow me to shed some light on the subject. For those of you who know what I'm talking about, you can skip this part.

HvZ is a college game of tag. The teams are identified by orange bandannas (worn on the arm or leg for Humans, worn on the head for Zombies). One person is the Original Zombie, the OZ. The humans do not know who the OZ is until at least 5 kills have been made. When humans are tagged, they join the zombie team. The only way to temporarily stun a zombie is to shoot them with Nerf guns or hit them with socks. Periodically, the moderators will organize missions for the teams. The Humans have a task to accomplish, and the zombies' job is to turn as many humans as possible.

This game is played on college campuses nationwide, but is it really a good idea?

As a "veteran" of the game, I have a different point of view than a spectator which I have now chosen to be for the remainder of this game. the game very quickly goes from being tag to being war. Humans suit up, armed with socks and Nerf guns before leaving the dorms or classes. They are advised not to travel alone as there is safety from the "horde" in numbers. After a very short while, sometimes only hours, walking on campus feels completely unsafe. The head snaps around at the sound of a blowing leaf or snapping twig. Humans are constantly checking behind them or to the side, looking for assailants with bright orange bandannas on their heads. And at night, at night during the missions, when the fighting gets intense, it sounds like something from a war film, especially with the impressive TKE weaponry.

After a few days, adrenaline and being on guard all the time become part of the norm. It becomes impossible to relax, and the humans watch helplessly as one by one, their friends fall to the horde. Last semester, I was the last one of my friends to be turned. I made the Zombie hit list after my epic sock battle with one of my suitemates. The next day, after my rehearsal ended around 9:30, three of them were waiting at my car, I stunned them, tore back to the Park Ave lot, bolted to my dorm, nearly made it up the stairs, and got ambushed. There were at least 10 of them waiting in the door to my suite.

It quickly comes to feel as though the bandanna is a brand, as good as having a bright red target in the center of your chest. You feel as though everyone is watching you. for me, it is a close to actual war as I ever want to get. I only ever used socks for my ammunition; I carried a bag of at least 2 dozen and kept another 7 or 8 in my pocket of my hoodie. Even though my brother gave me a Maverick for Christmas, I could not bring myself to use it. Even though it looks ridiculous (glow-in-the-dark green), it feels too much like a real gun in my hand and that somehow by using it against my friends, I will lose some integral part of me, the part of me that I keep protected at all costs. I feel that by even pretending to kill, I sink to the lowest level of humanity.

I'm against war, I'm against shooting, and I am against bloodshed, and while this game had no blood (as long as you don't fall and hurt yourself), it has elements of the other two. It is too close to war for my taste. Should we be teaching college students these element with their friends? Yes, we are not truly killing our friends, but what if they go off to war for real and after three or four rounds in the chest, their comrades do not wake with a smile?

I chose Tuesday night to "hang up my bandanna," so to speak. Too many memories of sleepless nights, skipped meals, and distrust had flooded me in the few hours I played that day. I now sit on the sidelines, cheering for my friends as they battle against the horde. At present, there are 74 humans and 38 Zombies, and the numbers will change drastically just today, especially with a mission tonight.

So, I wish my friends the best of luck in their fight. I leave today to present a paper at a conference.

Stay human!

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

Lollipop

I haven't stopped singing this song since yesterday. It was actually kind of fun to sing it in the echoing stairwell of my dorm while doing laundry. It's got such a great beat and smooth harmonies, and the Daughters of Zion sing it so well. They are the High School girls of my church (+ me), and we have so much fun performing it. We sang it twice today for the Doll 2 performances at the Madison Community House, and I noticed something the second time. Well, several somethings. The first was I felt better than I have in a whole week; I wasn't thinking about my cat, and I felt ok about her. The second was that I was enjoying myself. I was having fun, snapping and moving to the beat. The third was the smile I was beaming at the audience. Singing lights me up and makes me feel whole. It's better than any medicine I could ever take.

I enjoy singing songs and thinking about people who match them. Certain details stand out more than others. When thinking about a friend in trouble, I listen to songs about helping each other and pulling them up. When I've lost someone or someone is hurt, I listen to sad songs or songs about healing. When I like someone or a friend of mine is going out on a date, I listen to happy, upbeat songs or songs about smiling and sunlight and love. I love discovering songs that fit the situation perfectly or ironically ("Here Comes the Sun" on the first snowy day of spring, or the "Rutter requiem" for the passing of a pet, or "Whistle while you Work" when you have a stack of homework as tall as you are).

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

So They Say

So, this has been on my mind since before Spring Break. Our assignment for Scholars was to write a short story about love/beauty. I wanted mine to tie together with music, so I picked one of my favorite songs from Annie Get your Gun: So they Say. The resulting short story was 7 and a half pages!!!!! I'd attach the document, but I can't, so here is my masterpiece. Happy reading.

So They Say

Clinking glasses, raucous laughter, and smacking pool balls are all covered by a thin haze of smoke. The barista and waitresses are dressed in translucent tops and six inch skirts, flaunting what they have with every step of their three-inch stilettos. A lone, nearly melted candle rests at the center of each table.

“Five minutes, Ms. Milani.”

“Thank you, five.”

My voice feels raspy, so I sip my lemon water. Staring at my image in the mirror, I see my eyes staring back at me from the face of a woman who could be a senior citizen. We wear the same forlorn expression, but she cannot possibly be me. Wrinkles crease her forehead and the corners of her eyes as if she has thought too hard about something for too long. The skin around her cheeks sags slightly as if it is too heavy for her slender frame, but the laugh lines suggest a better place, a happier time-

The compact in my hand slips and clatters to the floor, cracking the powder inside. Wearily, I retrieve it and finish the hasty application of my makeup. As I complete my lips, my eyes involuntarily close as a memory envelops me-

-His eyes on mine, the feeling of being the only two people in the world, his scent: subtle and inviting but not overwhelming, his hand on my chin as he lifts my lips to his-

“Thirty seconds, Ms. Milani.”

The memory vanishes like a puff of smoke. Another sip of water and I’m in the wings of the rundown stage. The seedy manager introduces me, and I’m on.

Usually, they don’t listen; I’m just another voice in the room, but tonight, tonight something is different. Their eyes are on me in a way I have not felt in years, as if I am something to be desired. The piano ambles through the intro, and I begin to sing.

“They say that falling in love is wonderful

It’s wonderful, so they say.”

Conversations grind to a halt, pool sticks are held still, drinks are placed on the tables, every face gazes my way with rapt attention.

“And with the moon up above it’s wonderful

It’s wonderful, so they tell me.”

And suddenly, I’m not breathing in the secondhand smoke or squinting in the dim light of the hole-in-the-wall joint. My dress no longer scratches my skin, and my ears can’t hear the slightly flat piano.

I’m a sapphire gem in the spotlight.

The deep blue fabric feels like cool silk on my skin, and the blinding light that bathes the spot where I stand gives it an otherworldly glow. The heels give me two fairly unsteady inches, and my jewelry glistens and refracts a thousand colors, looking like so many stars resting on my collarbone.

The auditorium is full to bursting, and yet there is not a sound from the people in attendance: not a rustle, cough, or sneeze to break the music’s spell; all are enthralled, hanging onto my every note.

My voice feels like liquid silver, smooth and perfect, gliding through the song with ease. A slight smile tugs the corners of my lips as I finish:

“In every way, so they say.”

The applause is thunderous; two curtain calls and one standing ovation later, I’m backstage in a crowd of admirers.

“You were WONDERFUL!”

“That was fantastic!”

“I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Do you ever sing for an audience of one?”

My eyebrows betray my utter delight, and I struggle to compose my face as I turn.

His smile could power the spotlight. He wraps me in a warm, tight hug that I gladly return. I ask him to wait while I finish greeting everyone, and half-an-hour later, we are alone.

“You really were amazing,” he says as we walk to my car. Blushing, I reply, “Thanks,” glad that the darkness is hiding my face. I’m very aware of where he is, how our fingers almost meet with every step, how he shortens his stride to match my own.

“I wasn’t kidding before when I asked if you ever sing for a solo audience,” he remarks. “I could listen to you sing forever.”

Flattered, I nearly lose my nerve, but I manage to reply, “You’re sweet, and I can sing for a single person. I’m told it’s the same as singing for a host of thousands, except you don’t need an auditorium.”

“So they say,” he grins.

I stop at my car, desperate for more time with him, but knowing I have to go.

“Well, so long,” I begin, but before I can finish, I’m in his arms again, the hug even tighter than before. I relax into him, basking in his warmth and strength. I don’t miss the kiss he places on the crown of my head.

“I’ll see you in rehearsal tomorrow,” he says. Softer, almost in a whisper, he adds, “Goodnight, Nathalie.”

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

*          *          *

            I feel like a crazed fan girl. Still in school and without a moment to myself, I manage to make time to watch him out of the corner of my eye in rehearsals. Every word he says makes my heart pound and my palms sweat; it is a wonder that I can even speak around him.

            Two weeks after my recital, our choir performs. The intricate melodies mingle and twist together, forming a cocoon of music that settles over the room. In the middle of the piece, I feel my soul rise in my body; the piece crescendos to a climax, and tears prick my eyes. Safe in the music, I allow a single tear of pure joy to fall. I am never happier than when I am singing, a passion we both share.

            We hug after the concert, both smiling and happy. I allow myself a few seconds to memorize his face and the smile meant for only me.

*          *          *

Bonded by a love of music and a love of each other’s voices, we continue singing together. I always wonder how he feels but never ask; I’ve been hurt too many times to want to let someone else in, but he finds a way in anyway. He slips in, stealthily weaving his way through all of my defenses and precautions, but I do not realize it until we get talking on our way to a rehearsal.

“How’s school?”

“Busy, insane, great. The usual. How’s work?”

“About the same.” Silence, then, “You know, I never did have you sing after that recital, did I?”

“Wha-oh! Right. I’d forgotten about that,” I lie as we drive into the parking lot. “Do you want me to sing now?”

“Well, we are early.” He pulls into the closest space to the building and parks the car. Turning to look at me, he adds, “Besides, it will be a good warm up for you.” His look is teasing and playful, but his eyes say something else, something deeper.

I can feel my cheeks flushing as I remove my seatbelt and turn to him. Thinking my first note I clear my throat, look into his eyes, and begin to sing:

“They say that falling in love is wonderful

It’s wonderful, so they say.

And with the moon up above it’s wonderful

It’s wonderful, so they tell me.

I can’t recall who said it

I know I never read it

I only know that falling in love is grand

And the thing that’s known as romance

Is wonderful, wonderful

In every way

So they say.”

And as I take a breath to go on, he begins to sing. Struck dumb, I listen, basking in his voice but never breaking eye contact. His voice is deep and rich, filling the car like a warm bubble bath:

“Rumors fly and they often leave without

But you’ve come to the right place to find out

Ev’rything that you’ve heard is really so

I’ve been there once or twice and I should know

You’ll find that falling in love is wonderful

It’s wonderful, so they say.”

He pauses; our faces are mere centimeters apart now. I can hear our breathing in the silent car. Staring into his eyes, emotions flood my body, stunning me. Joy, excitement, and passion that I never knew existed burst through all of my protective walls. I feel the urge to kiss him, to tell him how I truly feel, but at the last second, he breaks the spell.

“We should go inside.”

My face is completely blank as I gather my things and exit the car. I feel my mind reeling with the new discovery of my feelings for him. I spend all of rehearsal watching him, sneaking looks across the room, and trying to figure out how he feels about me. After rehearsal, he offers to drive me home again, and I accept. We sing to the radio and talk some more until we get back to my school.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you in a few days?” I turn to open the door when-

“Nathalie?” His voice stops me.

“Mhmm?”

“I’m sorry if things felt…awkward before.”

“It’s alright. I mean, I hadn’t expected you to sing and then I got caught up in your voice and then everything went quiet and I couldn’t breathe and-“

“Shhh.” He puts his finger to my lips, locking eye contact. “You chatter when you are nervous.”

Now I can’t speak. My whole body tingles as he leans in, and my eyes close as our lips meet. He is gentle and cautious, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t last long. When we part, he watches me carefully as if unsure how I will react. I feel my lips smile as I meet his gaze.

“You know,” I slowly begin, “Four days is an awfully long time before I see you again. I might meet someone else. I think I may need a stronger incentive to come to rehearsal.” I give him a sly grin as I say this.

His face lights up the way it did at my recital. Grinning, he kisses me again, this time wrapping his arms around me to pull me close in the small space. We stay there for a long time.

*          *          *

Each day I wake and sleep with a smile on my face, each day we talk and laugh, and each time we see each other, the kiss is like that first one: careful and hesitant but with something else underneath. His hugs are warmer, his smiles brighter, and his lips softer. We sing along to everything, inventing harmonies to familiar tunes or just letting our voices blend in a beautiful unison.

Our first fight is over something stupid, a simple misunderstanding. He calls to wish me luck on my exams, but I don’t answer; I am hanging out with my friends instead of studying. He scolds me for not “taking school seriously,” but I shoot back that I aced the exam anyway. I yell that he is trying to be my parent and that I have people to do that job already. We do not speak for two days, but we make up before graduation. I want him there to see me graduate top of my class. He promises me a graduation present and says it isn’t ready yet but that I’ll know when it is.

He gives me my present in July on our seven month anniversary. I spend the day with him. We walk in the park together, eat together, watch movies together, and we spend the night together. It is my first time; he knows this. He is the perfect gentleman, slowly guiding me and teaching me. Afterwards, he holds me in his arms until I fall asleep.

We spend the summer together, taking walks, seeing films, eating out. My parents approve, his have no qualms. Everything is beautiful.

*          *          *

My music is so much stronger now. I sing all the time, inspired by every little thing. Work conspires to keep us apart, but we find ways to stay close: phone calls on breaks, texts, notes left on each other’s respective Facebook pages. We greet each other with song every chance we get, especially with our song.

But there is one smudge on our perfect relationship, one constant fight that we cannot seem to resolve: my walking to work. Many times I leave for work and he is there in his car, waiting for me. I insist on walking for the fresh air and good exercise, but he insists it is dangerous and that I will get hurt.

I leave early for work today. There is not a cloud in the sky, and a gentle breeze brushes my cheek the same way his fingertips do. I hum while walking, soaking up every ray of sunlight, every ounce of beauty from the trees and flowers. As I draw near to my workplace, I see him on the other side of the road, waiting for me. I send a smile his way and begin to cross the street.

His expression changes to a look of horror. Screams, screeching tires, and honking horns assault my ears as I fly through the air and land back on the sidewalk. Ears ringing and palms stinging, it takes me a full minute to realize what has happened. An inhuman cry escapes my lips as I rush to his side.

“Aaron? Aaron!”

His head is in a small pool of blood. There are various scrapes and cuts on his arms. His right leg is bent at an odd angle. One eye is beginning to bruise, but his gaze is not glassy and unfocused yet. He turns toward my voice and smiles slightly.

“I-did-warn-you.”

Each word takes so much effort for him to say; he probably has some broken ribs. The tears start to flow, and I don’t even realize it.

“Please don’t! You can’t! The ambulance will be here soon. You’ll be fine. I can’t lose you!”

He reaches up and strokes my cheek with his fingertips.

“I love you.”

I sob and lean down, kissing him; he kisses me back.

*          *          *

“Is wonderful, wonderful

In every way

So they say.”

A single tear trickles down my face, leaving a track through my foundation and powder. I’m met with raucous, drunken applause and wolf-whistles. I manage a small smile and a curtsy before I leave the stage.

Back in my dressing room, I give myself over to the memories. Tears flow more freely as I slip off the heels that threaten to break my ankles. Slumping into the chair before my mirror, I feel the deadweight of his lifeless body in my arms after kissing me with his dying breath. I remember refusing to leave his side when the paramedics arrive. They say the cause of death is massive internal injuries compounded with a severe concussion. I’m in shock; I do not eat or sleep for a week, and every time I close my eyes, the scenario plays out again and again.

At the funeral, they ask me to sing; I barely make it through the piece. I have to leave and compose myself before the burial. Afterwards, I don’t sing again for twenty years. I close myself off from affection and human ties for fear of what awaits those who love me. Worry lines etch themselves into my forehead, and I am gray by forty-five.

One night the pain gets to be too much, and I end up in the ER in a coma. The doctors think I am gone.

It is bliss to no longer exist, but as the light appears for me, someone stands in the way.

His scent hits me first, and I am convinced that I am dead. I reach out for him, and he takes my hand in his; it is solid. We might as well be the only two people in the whole world. His hand gently strokes my jaw before tilting my chin up. When our lips meet, it is as if no time has passed. Five minutes or five years later, he breaks the kiss but continues to hold me close, whispering in my ear:

“I love you. I always have and always will, but you must stop dwelling on the past; it is not your time to go yet. I miss you terribly, but I would not have been able to bear you dying that day. I acted on impulse to save the woman I love, a woman who is worth dying for. You are not to blame. I knew what I was doing. And please go back to your music; the world is a much sadder place without it. I will see you again, but please, if not for you then for me, live your life.”

He kisses me once more and I’m falling back into my body. My eyes burn from the bright hospital lights overhead. The doctors say it is a miracle; the number of sleeping pills I took should have killed me. They keep me under observation for two weeks.

Two days before I’m due to be released, I find myself humming softly. It’s a simple tune, “Simple Gifts” in fact, but I can feel my strength and sanity slowly seep back into my body. My guilt over his death begins to lessen, and I feel more alive than I have the past twenty years.

After my discharge, I do not know where to go; my twenty years of isolation severed all the human ties I had before. I decide to return home, to see my parents again. They are so much older than I remember, but so am I. They fill me in on some of what has happened since I left home. As it happens, one of my old school friends manages a chain of nightclubs. He is more than happy to offer me a job.

I know Aaron is watching over me so that someday we can fall in love again. Because falling in love is wonderful.

So they say.