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Stephan may be a snob, but he's funny, and I can still go to my HSC rehearsal after he's asked me why I bother to sing in it. These days, especially this season (classical knockouts), the Symphony seems to be selling out more than usual. But I stay for the times when there is War Requiem, or Kaddish, or all of Carmina. And for the company afterwards.
It had been ages. And I think I have grown up a little, and not in a bad way, but in one that will make life easier. Before, Salad's attention was a commodity whose possession was the primary object of going out after rehearsals. It's still valuable to me, but it's just as fun to observe from the corner as it ever was, and I am better at it now. And I can return barbs or start my own. Not that I'll ever be a competent verbal sparring partner, but then, even I can appreciate that the level of competition isn't really that high. I can see that they're all little kids exclaiming over their playground disses, but they've got high-and-mighty subjects like politics and economics to give them a sense of adultness.
I tend not to care for the opinion of many, and I don't know why Salad is any different, because I have learned to see (or he has let me) through his acidic conversation and grand sweeping buffoonery to a quiet intelligence that can't really deny he has feelings just like anyone. Maybe it's the insistent denial that what anyone else thinks matters that I find admirable; clearly it does, from what he's said in more unguarded moments and from what I've observed, but he continues life and manages to perform as if it were only his opinion that made an impact on his actions.
Anyway. I'm not in such awe of him anymore, but I can appreciate the humanity that brought it down. And maybe that's why it's easier to go after they're all done with their beers, even though he cares more and stays behind to let me know we will talk, and when there are parties, so that I can go home and wash the smoke out of my hair with a time and a person to look forward to, instead of an idol.
It had been ages. And I think I have grown up a little, and not in a bad way, but in one that will make life easier. Before, Salad's attention was a commodity whose possession was the primary object of going out after rehearsals. It's still valuable to me, but it's just as fun to observe from the corner as it ever was, and I am better at it now. And I can return barbs or start my own. Not that I'll ever be a competent verbal sparring partner, but then, even I can appreciate that the level of competition isn't really that high. I can see that they're all little kids exclaiming over their playground disses, but they've got high-and-mighty subjects like politics and economics to give them a sense of adultness.
I tend not to care for the opinion of many, and I don't know why Salad is any different, because I have learned to see (or he has let me) through his acidic conversation and grand sweeping buffoonery to a quiet intelligence that can't really deny he has feelings just like anyone. Maybe it's the insistent denial that what anyone else thinks matters that I find admirable; clearly it does, from what he's said in more unguarded moments and from what I've observed, but he continues life and manages to perform as if it were only his opinion that made an impact on his actions.
Anyway. I'm not in such awe of him anymore, but I can appreciate the humanity that brought it down. And maybe that's why it's easier to go after they're all done with their beers, even though he cares more and stays behind to let me know we will talk, and when there are parties, so that I can go home and wash the smoke out of my hair with a time and a person to look forward to, instead of an idol.
