I hate music!!!

Sometimes it just seems a bit too much. Then I have to echo the words to Leonard Bernstein’s song, “I hate music.”

I hate music, but I like to sing
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaa!
But that’s not music! Not what I call MUSIC, no sir!

Music is a lot of men with a lot of tails making lots of noise like a lot of
females
Music is a lot of folks in a big dark hall where they really don’t want to be
at all with a lot of chairs and a lot of heirs and a lot of furs and diamonds!
Music is silly

I hate music…but I like to sing

 

And then I hear a wonderful song or symphony or concerto, and the love all comes back to me and I remember: I really do love music after all. But that would still be a fun song to sing. Just for shock value, you know?

Dear Grooveshark,

You and I used to be friends. Maybe not besties, but we were always friendly toward each other. But you used to be kind enough to load when I asked you for a song. Now you are unresponsive. What happened to our friendship? Perhaps you are mad at me because I miss Lala? I would declare war on you if there was anywhere else I could go for music, but honestly, Pandora just doesn’t cut it. So please, dear Grooveshark, be my friend again?

In heartfelt sincerity,

Dramatic Lyric

Rest

You know, it really is quite remarkable how sleep (or the lack thereof) can affect one. What is even more remarkable is that whereas young children beg to be allowed to stay up late, college students beg to be allowed to go to bed early. Well, I am pleased to be able to tell you that I accomplished said feat. Last night I went to bed at 9:30. It was beautiful. No longer does the overwhelming fatigue plague my steps. Not to say that I’m not still tired, it’s just a more “gentle” tired, if there is such a thing.

I started a new tatting project!! Actually, I started it last week…but I was hoping to have more done on it before telling you all about it. But I am a procrastinator. And school and opera have eaten my life. I haven’t done much on it yet, but it’s at least started. All that to say, I’m tatting the edging to a handkerchief. It’s ordinary white, but white is classy,and I think it might end up coming out well. I’m excited to see how this project comes along. But I must admit on the front end that I’m kind of scared about the time commitment that may be involved. I’ve only done small projects before and this will test my skills and love of tatting.

IMHO…

Wow. I told you Opera was going to take over my life. Usually people tell college kids not to flirt with each other…but our director told us flirting is good on stage. Go farther with it, he asked us, we’ll tell you when you’ve taken it too far. I had to laugh. So now all of us lonely (or otherwise) musicians are flirting, or at least pretending to, with each other.

Then the old mad gypsy lady comes and sings her aria recounting probably for the hundred-millionth time the story of how her mother came to be burned at the stake. We are all bored out of our skulls, and since it is early morning anyway, it seems a good time for an impromptu nap. Her (idiotic) son, having heard the story at least as many times as the rest of us still finds it in his heart to ask her about the story. As if he didn’t already know every detail. The old woman has been babbling on about the story for centuries years now.

And then finally someone takes pity on all of the rest of us who are bored out of our skulls and interrupts the old lady. Heaven bless him!!! He says it’s time to go get breakfast. I think like him. He has his priorities right: Food comes first. He’s a good man.

It has begun.

Opera. It will now be taking over my life. I’m so excited!!!!!! I’m a factory worker Gypsy. So I go out on stage, have fun with my friends, sing a few lines, and walk off. Easy, right? Let’s hope so. Is it bad that I really, really want to be a drunk Gypsy?

Oh, and by way of an update, my novel is up to 15,000 words now. Hooray for me!!! It’s up to date on the page. The link is above.

My Love Affair with Music

I don’t ever remember a time when I didn’t like music. I was blessed to grow up in a musical family where my mom played Piano and a bit of Violin and my dad would go around the house humming (albeit, off-key) and inventing his own lyrics to songs. I started Piano lessons at age 6 after begging for them. My mom tells me my brother and I were always singing or humming, and I can remember at least one instance when annoyed family members would ask me to stop singing along with the CDs in the car. Gradually I fell out of love with the piano and wanted to stop taking lessons: I hated practicing. So finally my parents let me stop. But that was after I started taking lessons of a different kind: voice lessons. I think I can honestly say that voice lessons changed my life. I started studying voice when I was 11, which is, admittedly, a bit early to begin. But God had given me a voice that began to mature early, and my voice teacher wisely didn’t push me further and faster than was good for me. At first, it was just another lesson. I loved singing – I always had. But then I started to listen to classical singers – my first classical CDs were of Lesley Garrett, Inessa Galante, and Maria Callas. Once I had gained an ear for classical singing I couldn’t get enough of it and I began to dream of being a singer some day. I competed in state competitions, I sang in my church, I didn’t practice nearly enough. But I was in high school at the time. And then I graduated. And college was coming up and I had to choose a major. Well, of course, since my dream was to be a singer my major of choice was Voice Performance. But my dad, always the pragmatist, wanted me to do something more practical – like Music Ed, for example. After all, the Music world is hard to break into. But my mom convinced my dad to let me major in voice. And the rest, as they say, is history. Honestly, I can’t imagine being any other major. I absolutely love what I am doing and I hope to do it for the rest of my life.