Oh, to breathe again. It’s been a pretty hectic time for the last few weeks, and this feels like the first moment I’ve had in some time to just… oh, what do you call it… relax. I’ve been gearing up for a big annual choir concert—TOMORROW night, yikes—and it hasn’t been quite as harmonious as I would’ve liked (bad pun intended). Mix a spazzing-out director (he’s told us he’ll be quitting if we receive bad feedback after the concert; gee, no guilt trip there!), petty squabbles, diva attitudes, bruised egos, brain freezes while memorizing lyrics to 15+ songs, and it’s just been really stressful. Seriously, as of now, I just want to get through it without any of the following taking place: 1) My head exploding, 2) Not making any embarrassing mistakes, especially during the small ensemble “Mamma Mia” choreography, and 3) Not end up punching out anybody, especially the two assholes in my bass section that make Madonna and Jennifer Lopez seem low-maintenance.
In addition to all the not-so-GLEEful choral drama, my aunt is back in the hospital, so I’ve been doing the whole Florence Nightingale bedside routine again. It’s nowhere as serious as last time, thank God; basically, she’s been throwing up a lot for weeks, and it turns out pockets of gas have gotten stuck in her stomach, so the food isn’t going through properly. So they’ve put up a hose through her nose down to her stomach, and hooked her up to an IV, and basically, she needs to not eat anything and walk around the hospital halls as much as she can until the gas finally blows through. My aunt’s lost quite a bit of weight, and she’s thin to begin with, so that’s obviously not good, but yesterday, the doctor (the same nice one who did the cancer operation last year!) told us the gas has finally started to “move,” so hopefully, she’ll be good and gas-free before too long. As for me, I just want to get tomorrow night over with so I can exhale a bit. But until then, the show must go on, and I’ve just gotta keep up right with it.
EDIT: Taking the subway to the concert site, I wondered if after the concert, my exhaustion, resentments, and sick-and-tiredness-of-my-own-damn-voice would all go away, and as it turns out, that pretty much ended up being the case. The show went off about as well as could be expected (a couple of hitches here and there, but nothing major), and I succeeded in not embarrassing myself. I was pretty much petrified before we got up to the stage (the theatre was full with about 400 people), but once we started singing, it all went pretty naturally. I handled my solo part with aplomb; of course, it was also the Shortest Solo in the History of Choral Performances, literally one word: “Bravo!” Anyhow, it was a pretty cool night all around, especially with friends attending from my tennis club and my writing club, and as of this morning, I feel like I’ve completed “The Amazing Race.” And now, it’s time for the music to fade into the background as I bring the spotlight back on what means the most to me: my novel-to-be. Let the next chapter begin.