If I had a dollar for every time my singing teacher said this, the lessons would be free. Alright, first of all she doesn’t get it because she isn’t me and she doesn’t feel all that internal pressure of “this is what I want to do with my life and right now I feel it is all pivoting on this inordinately high note I can’t believe you expect me to sing” and all that, and secondly: she is right. Dammit.
I have the, uh, not inspiration, but… “spike in aspirational obligation” that is telling me that I should be practicing right now.
I discovered something else to add to my terribly impractical demoralizing list of things about why I can’t do this. Radio. At one point in time I thought I wanted to be a radio host. Really really did, thought that was one of the most awesome jobs out there, the music, the talking, the people. So I went and I did a little course at a local radio station. It all went marvelously, I had it handed to me on a silver platter. But it wasn’t what I wanted, it wasn’t what I thought it was. I have agonized about singing for a decade at my next birthday. Yep. That’s when I started thinking about it – seven. I loved this song called “Stay” by Lisa Loeb. And here I am 10 years later still trying to sing it.
So what if it’s not what I thought it would be?
What if learnt to sing, do about three gigs and decide I want to be an architect instead? Of course there’s nothing I can do about it, but it would just suck terribly.
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Later
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On the bus. Again. At least I have found a way to make my otherwise boring unproductive time interesting.
I’m trying to remember to breathe. Always a good thing to be keeping in mind all the time, but I’m trying to do that stomach thing. I have the muscles for it, I can do that no worries, I’m probably more toned than the teacher. But the two don’t connect all that well. It would be remarkable if I got anything from those lessons in 10 minutes. I’m starting to get light headed and feel bloated, am I close? Ha. No. Maybe if I had less or more of a waist, a tighter or looser bra, or didn’t have to remain perfectly still between the seat and the wall thinking of nothing but magical columns of air. But I will be able to do it eventually, I’ll be able to sing, do it, AND think at the same time - then the trouble starts. This is like astral projecting. The moment you go- Ooh I think I just did it! You get snapped back to reality, and your normal ways, and you have to start again.
I think I’m getting it. I can visualise a very short fat lazy grey-blue column of air inside me being pushed out by a heaving old sour diaphragm, whose mouth becomes a scowl when the middle pushes up.
I have no idea what is with the imagination overdrive either.
Mr. Emo is on this morning, head down, furry jacket collar up. You know I have a certain disdain for him sometimes. I think he falls beyond the ‘slightly depressed’ objective view category. I’m not being heaps friendly to Mr. Crushing either. Our moods never line up, it’s a well known fact that when he’s angry I feel all Zen, when he’s happy I feel uninspired, and when I want him he’s always tired or ‘just not with it’. So today, that is how I feel. I can try that for a week. I have the time, regardless of how much the actual thing means to me, I don’t mind.
I think I’ve developed this strange thing of taking this blog to school with me on a Monday, developing it over the week and dividing it up on the weekend. There is now this weird part of my life which would be empty without the blog and the comments. Blog… is… friend. It’s strange. I get what Amanda was saying now.
Also, as per request:
Fun Run: /fʌn rʌn/ noun, 1. An activity where a school or business cons its personnel into missing lunch, going to the nearest park, racecourse, athletics field or oval and travelling by their own propulsion over a distance between 3 and 5 kilometres (1.8 – 3.1 miles) in the name of fitness and/or team spirit. 2. An expression commonly used to illustrate an oxymoron.
Also I would like ask whether this is you, Idril, who posted here http://latorredehercules.blogia.com/2005/100404-galeria-de-victoria-frances.php asking about Victoria Francés. I only ask because I have not seen any other Idrils, and I was wondering exactly the same thing in studying her for my Art essay. How does she physically create her art? I know she uses the computer somehow and from what I can see she appears to also use pencils and maybe water colour, but I need something definitive to write 500 – 600 words on.
☆Anika☆
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