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It was a singularly proficient day. Compliments came from the most unexpected quarters. It was like a horoscope day. Or a fortune cookie.
Latin was even more fun than usual. We translated the second third of the St. George story, which is hilarious if you use the most English idiom and vernacular you possibly can. We went sentence by sentence, and when it came to my turn, I read through amiably as I learned to do in that heaven of a class, middle school Latin with Mr. White. It must have been especially fast, because when I finished my piece of the paragraph (it was bigger than anyone else's) Bryan and then the class burst out into spontaneous applause and told me I was really good at that, and Brava. I was pleased. Later, when we were joking around at the end of class, he mentioned he wanted to have a meeting with Rebecca about this homework. I agreed and said I did, too. He said, "no, you need to start actually doing your homework," which is true, but I can pass it off because it actually is hard and I give up in the middle and don't start again... He told me "sure, cause then in class you're Insta-Translator, speaking like it's your native language." Hee.
I was under the influence of a kind of surprised smug joy for the rest of the day, till Studio came around and I was to sing a song I had just learned. Apparently I did well and my sound has improved in leaps and bounds and the middle resonance (read: rocking out) that I've been getting makes my sound more honest and I have more room to be expressive and it's like somebody gave me a box of 64 colors to color with, instead of 8. That was from Eric, even. Hee. It was particularly rewarding after having had a rather musically angsty conversation with my pianist yesterday about the futility of trying to be better than anyone else.
I guess Reggie won't drop by, but I have something for him.
One last warning: Monday night at 8 in Stude is the undergraduate songs and arias concert (in case you didn't know, I'm an undergraduate).
Latin was even more fun than usual. We translated the second third of the St. George story, which is hilarious if you use the most English idiom and vernacular you possibly can. We went sentence by sentence, and when it came to my turn, I read through amiably as I learned to do in that heaven of a class, middle school Latin with Mr. White. It must have been especially fast, because when I finished my piece of the paragraph (it was bigger than anyone else's) Bryan and then the class burst out into spontaneous applause and told me I was really good at that, and Brava. I was pleased. Later, when we were joking around at the end of class, he mentioned he wanted to have a meeting with Rebecca about this homework. I agreed and said I did, too. He said, "no, you need to start actually doing your homework," which is true, but I can pass it off because it actually is hard and I give up in the middle and don't start again... He told me "sure, cause then in class you're Insta-Translator, speaking like it's your native language." Hee.
I was under the influence of a kind of surprised smug joy for the rest of the day, till Studio came around and I was to sing a song I had just learned. Apparently I did well and my sound has improved in leaps and bounds and the middle resonance (read: rocking out) that I've been getting makes my sound more honest and I have more room to be expressive and it's like somebody gave me a box of 64 colors to color with, instead of 8. That was from Eric, even. Hee. It was particularly rewarding after having had a rather musically angsty conversation with my pianist yesterday about the futility of trying to be better than anyone else.
I guess Reggie won't drop by, but I have something for him.
One last warning: Monday night at 8 in Stude is the undergraduate songs and arias concert (in case you didn't know, I'm an undergraduate).
