In the Philharmonic Chorus, we are going to be singing "Carmen" at Artpark this summer. (For those of you interested, July 16 and 17.) This is a particular challenge for me, not only because it is a very difficult piece to sing and I am a horrendous music reader and, thus, must learn everything by ear, but the language is what is really killing me. I have to confess that I am one of those Americans that can only speak English (although I can speak English English and American English!). I took Spanish in highschool. My pronunciation was terrific but my memory for the words was shit. In College, I took Latin. Don't ask why. I just did. And after college, I wanted to teach myself French, and boy do I wish I had succeeded, especially now with "Carmen". The pronunciation has stymied me! And some pieces are so lightening fast! I doubt I could sing that fast in my own language, much less one that I'm not familiar with.

Usually, I wind up doing performances on a wing and prayer, and magically, they work out. I suppose I shall just have to trust this one to the fates as well. If it's a system that works, why change it now?

I believe that the word "hate" is in far too common usage. It cheapens the word. I, myself, am guilty of this. I "hate" everything- smoking, mushrooms, cockroaches, idiot drivers, stupid people... the list is endless. Now, I believe that I am required to up the ante, from plain old "hate" to "loathe". But why? Where will it end? I'm going to take a personal stand to bring back the true meaning of "hate!" and not use it for the trivial. This seems like an odd statement, even to myself... bring back the true meaning of "hate? No, I'm not about to go on some insane rampage, just do what I said and stop using it for the trivial. I think boredom is starting to get to me. Even I don't really understand me today!

I'm usually very composed, in any given situation, composed. It may be the influence of my British mother... those of you who know her know that she is the very image of composure and I have tried very hard my whole life to be like her. It's very difficult for a little girl to grow up with a beautiful mother. She never actually cared about her looks... that was just something that was a gift from God... but for me it was like I had to grow up and look just like her- Long red hair, green eyes, alabaster skin. The last I actually managed to get. The rest is curly blond with these strange grey, blue, aqua eyes- depending upon who you talk to, they'll give you a different answer. I look nothing like her and that was a very hard thing to deal with growing up. So, as I couldn't look like her, I would act like her. I had it down in highschool. I was cold, like ice. I never cried and was the Queen Bitch of the Universe. And I was so unhappy. Slowly, I realized that that is not who I am. I'm emotional. I'm a happy, fiercely opinionated, more than slightly off the wall, woman. I am who I am. I can still be ice cold and the Queen Bitch of the Universe when I need to be, but I've tried very hard to let go and be who I really am. The one thing I can't let go of is my composure. It's carried me through many a difficult situation. So as I stand her typing at my job in my cute suit, I remain, as ever, a picture of composure.

Do you ever have those weekends where you don't actually do what you WANT to do and it is jam packed with obligations. I don't think I actually WANTED to do any of the things that I did this past weekend. However, it still managed to be fun, just jam packed and now, at my job that just went fulltime, I'm exhausted from the weekend! Aren't they supposed to be restful? A break from working? And yet we all pack them so full, we never actually get to rest and relax. My vow is spend at least one day in a weekend for actually relaxing. Don't know how I'll fare in my quest, but I'm going to try my best.

I love flowers all flowers. Most women do. And like most women, I am particularly fond of roses. Today, one of my co-workers, who is in the throws of a new romance with a man that she actually met at Pleasure Island in Disney World (Who knew?) received roses, beautiful red roses. Although cliche, still soul achingly lovely. I'm happy for her, genuinely happy but it still stings as I have never had anyone send me roses. And so, I will wallow, just for a little while longer in my roses pity party.