I almost didn’t write. I had this window closed and everything. But I guess I needed to.
There’s not a whole lot going on right now, though: it’s one of those chunks of time that you’re so busy with everything that time just slides by.
Good. It should. I’m ready to go back home.
It’s silly, though, because I adore it here. I’m just ready to see my family again.
My accompanist told me this morning that he feels old. He’s twenty-five or six. I’m eighteen, and I feel old every morning.
I have eleven frappuccinos from Starbucks in my fridge (before you scorn me, I did not use actual money, I used declining).
I am completely typing stream-of-consciousness right now, so what you see is what I’m thinking, I suppose.
I’m listening to a recording of “The White Swan” right now (Ernest Charles). I sang it tonight in studio, and I got a lot of really solid feedback for it. It’s got an indigo and red-violet shimmer to it that’s edged with a sliver of white gold. That’s the song in color for me: deep jewel tones with a bright, hot edge.
It’s about someone who wants someone else. She thinks she’s forgotten this person, and has closeted away thoughts of them. But there’s something striking and vivid about a memory from before, of a white swan bursting through a sable pool she and this person saw years or days or months ago… and it slides deeply and sharply into her heart, that she craves this person more than anything. “I dared to dream I had forgotten you. Yet from the shadows of my darkened heart, like a white swan upon an onyx pool, you drift upon the silence of my dreams– and fill my heart with longing! With longing… and desire.”
It gets pretty intense. And as two of my favorite studio mates (grad students) told me this evening, with the accompaniment, “That’s hot.” So by that standard alone it was a great class. It never ceases to amaze me that I’m actually here. I’m really living, breathing– and studying at Eastman. What the hell?
A year ago I was hating life and yearbook and wishing to Jesus that I could just have fun. I thought for sure I was going to Syracuse to do something else with my life… besides sing.
I still want to do something else with my life: like be someone worth knowing? that would be cool. But singing is something I find myself connecting with on a deeper and deeper level every day. Especially since “O del mio dolce ardor” at the departmental recital, I just have a feeling (a confidence? maybe) that I should be doing this. I could travel with this, I could learn so much if I continue with it.
I take my music ed assessment tomorrow at 430. This is directly after four hours of classes (not counting the two in the AM). The assessment will determine whether or not I can double major officially or not. Oh God, what do I do if I fail it?
I won’t fail it. I hope.
With that, it’s time to conclude these completely disconnected ramblings and go shower. Buona notte, wordpress.