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I screwed myself in recital again by accidentally practicing for an hour before the concert. There were breaks, blips, and inconsistent coloratura throughout the Purcell, and even through the Road Not Taken I never really found the good resonance. It was all grossly nervous-sounding and off the breath, but maybe that disguised the place where I went on tonality safari for a few measures in Elliot's piece. And I was going to send him the recording, too. Well, not anymore. It could have been worse, I suppose; it could have been like the trainwreck of a Non So Piu I did freshman year. If I keep progressing at this rate, by senior year I'll have something worth putting on the stage.
Ah, but then Dan and I went to rehearsal. What a relief. I suppose it's concentrating on something in which I can perceive differences more readily; acting, at least to my enduringly amateur senses, is easier than singing classically. I suppose it helped that the scenes we ran were just me and Dan, Burfy directing. I don't know if what I'm doing comes off well, but it's deceptively easy to act as though I care deeply about Dan, since I do. The whole romantic aspect is completely unfamiliar, but I'm doing my best, since that seems to be about all that's driving my character at this point in the show. It's been so helpful to have a director who will either make me ask myself what I'm doing or tell me what I can try. I know it's not saying much, since the last show I was in I wasn't a lead and I was hardly directed at all, but Burfy's been the best directorial experience of my life so far. There's an undeniable competence there.
Right, so I had a fantastic rehearsal learning how to be physically familiar with someone. It must have been subconsciously reassuring, especially after my not-so-hot recital performance. And the irritating neediness I've been feeling since the crazy dream. Sean very sweetly hugged me before leaving, and that, combined with the hour or so I spent with Dan, has calmed me down. I'm not sure why I was shaking this morning, but I feel better now.
It may be related to the therianthropic reaction I have to petting and being held. Felinity surfaces most readily for me in situations of high instinct and emotion. Crazy lazy happiness, a kind of active calm, is what happens when I get pets in the right frame of mind. Physical comfort (though without restriction or restraint) brings up a contented purr from the depths of my soul, as long as it's a comfort I trust. Now, this doesn't mean I get shifty every time somebody hugs me, because it has to be a certain kind of emotion, and I'm not close enough to most people for it to apply. Masks peel, but only for people I know are my people.
Well, that's enough philosophizing. I was going to go to sleep so I'd have an excuse to miss watching Waiting for Guffman with the Milam Frat. So now I will get my calmed-down self into bed.
Ah, but then Dan and I went to rehearsal. What a relief. I suppose it's concentrating on something in which I can perceive differences more readily; acting, at least to my enduringly amateur senses, is easier than singing classically. I suppose it helped that the scenes we ran were just me and Dan, Burfy directing. I don't know if what I'm doing comes off well, but it's deceptively easy to act as though I care deeply about Dan, since I do. The whole romantic aspect is completely unfamiliar, but I'm doing my best, since that seems to be about all that's driving my character at this point in the show. It's been so helpful to have a director who will either make me ask myself what I'm doing or tell me what I can try. I know it's not saying much, since the last show I was in I wasn't a lead and I was hardly directed at all, but Burfy's been the best directorial experience of my life so far. There's an undeniable competence there.
Right, so I had a fantastic rehearsal learning how to be physically familiar with someone. It must have been subconsciously reassuring, especially after my not-so-hot recital performance. And the irritating neediness I've been feeling since the crazy dream. Sean very sweetly hugged me before leaving, and that, combined with the hour or so I spent with Dan, has calmed me down. I'm not sure why I was shaking this morning, but I feel better now.
It may be related to the therianthropic reaction I have to petting and being held. Felinity surfaces most readily for me in situations of high instinct and emotion. Crazy lazy happiness, a kind of active calm, is what happens when I get pets in the right frame of mind. Physical comfort (though without restriction or restraint) brings up a contented purr from the depths of my soul, as long as it's a comfort I trust. Now, this doesn't mean I get shifty every time somebody hugs me, because it has to be a certain kind of emotion, and I'm not close enough to most people for it to apply. Masks peel, but only for people I know are my people.
Well, that's enough philosophizing. I was going to go to sleep so I'd have an excuse to miss watching Waiting for Guffman with the Milam Frat. So now I will get my calmed-down self into bed.