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So much the tired. At least the Chemistry is done.
This afternoon was decidedly non-lazy. I missed the first half of my lesson due to a miscommunication, but I think the stuff we got done was good. My recital is going to be good. I got all my recital forms turned in and the Opera Workshop homework done before Latin, and Dr. Mackie didn't get mad at me about not having my book because I preemptively asked her if she was going to. So Latin was fun, as it should be.
The first part of Opera Workshop made me remember how challenging singing is; we had to do a series of really difficult improvisational exercises with the subtext we'd written for repeats of words in our arias, and since my aria is da capo (start from the beginning, go through the second section the end, go back to the beginning, finish before the second section), and repetitive at that, there was a lot of subtext. Enough that I'd basically written myself another monologue. Which I didn't know very well. And I had to be totally physically and emotionally involved while I was doing this monologue, half of which (the repeat) was a list of the things I'd miss if I were to die. So, that was depressing. But then there was stage combat.
I really like Bryan whatsis, the HGO fight director. I may have explained that before. We did more knife stuff today, including a Tosca-style stab and a Don Jose-style stab. And then he, with clandestine little-kid gross-out enthusiasm, mentioned and had to demonstrate (with stage-dull knife, of course) this thing that a guy he knew learned in a self-defense class.
Somebody attacks you, you evade and hook the knife hand and dig your own knife down to their radius then up toward them along the bone, basically filleting their upper-arm muscles off their arm... it was awesome. And then, when he was demonstrating something on me, he paused the real class again for a bit when he thought of another awesome thing to fillet; he was down by my knees, so he took my knee, and pointed his knife down behind my kneecap like he was going to open an oyster. It's the kind of mentally-discomforting thing with the whole delicious empathic-shudder--awesomely horrible. I don't get that with horror films or suspense or gory movies or anything, but wound stories and scars and such are fascinating to me.
Anyway, by contrast, HSC rehearsal was supremely uninteresting. I did notice in passing, though, that I apparently subconsciously respect and care about the opinion of the assistant director, Richard. I tended to take my voice-resting breaks of laziness during the Wagner choruses only when he was out of the room, and look alert while he was in there. Charles doesn't get that kind of reaction from me, but Richard ran the last rehearsal, and it was a huge relief of competence and humor and musical intelligence.
Now, chemistry! Mostly done already!
This afternoon was decidedly non-lazy. I missed the first half of my lesson due to a miscommunication, but I think the stuff we got done was good. My recital is going to be good. I got all my recital forms turned in and the Opera Workshop homework done before Latin, and Dr. Mackie didn't get mad at me about not having my book because I preemptively asked her if she was going to. So Latin was fun, as it should be.
The first part of Opera Workshop made me remember how challenging singing is; we had to do a series of really difficult improvisational exercises with the subtext we'd written for repeats of words in our arias, and since my aria is da capo (start from the beginning, go through the second section the end, go back to the beginning, finish before the second section), and repetitive at that, there was a lot of subtext. Enough that I'd basically written myself another monologue. Which I didn't know very well. And I had to be totally physically and emotionally involved while I was doing this monologue, half of which (the repeat) was a list of the things I'd miss if I were to die. So, that was depressing. But then there was stage combat.
I really like Bryan whatsis, the HGO fight director. I may have explained that before. We did more knife stuff today, including a Tosca-style stab and a Don Jose-style stab. And then he, with clandestine little-kid gross-out enthusiasm, mentioned and had to demonstrate (with stage-dull knife, of course) this thing that a guy he knew learned in a self-defense class.
Somebody attacks you, you evade and hook the knife hand and dig your own knife down to their radius then up toward them along the bone, basically filleting their upper-arm muscles off their arm... it was awesome. And then, when he was demonstrating something on me, he paused the real class again for a bit when he thought of another awesome thing to fillet; he was down by my knees, so he took my knee, and pointed his knife down behind my kneecap like he was going to open an oyster. It's the kind of mentally-discomforting thing with the whole delicious empathic-shudder--awesomely horrible. I don't get that with horror films or suspense or gory movies or anything, but wound stories and scars and such are fascinating to me.
Anyway, by contrast, HSC rehearsal was supremely uninteresting. I did notice in passing, though, that I apparently subconsciously respect and care about the opinion of the assistant director, Richard. I tended to take my voice-resting breaks of laziness during the Wagner choruses only when he was out of the room, and look alert while he was in there. Charles doesn't get that kind of reaction from me, but Richard ran the last rehearsal, and it was a huge relief of competence and humor and musical intelligence.
Now, chemistry! Mostly done already!