This summer I decided that I was going to do something that I’ve wanted to do all of my life: get professional vocal training. I’ve sung a lot in bars and stuff, but I really want to get involved in musical theatre and just be more satisfied with my voice in general.
I decided to go with the head of the vocal music department at my alma mater. She had done some work with me on my speaking voice before I gave my senior poetry reading in college and I felt very comfortable with her. I was going to do this last summer, but it turned out that we couldn’t afford it (both Esteban and myself were still at our previous jobs). So last May, I sent her an email requesting vocal training this summer (she only offers private lessons during the summer, being that she’s the head of her department and has silly things like classes to teach, etc). She was apparently teaching something in Iowa and wouldn’t be back until mid-July.
Yesterday was my first lesson. Immediately, she informed me that she was moving and I said ‘Where?’ and she said ‘Lithuania’ or some ‘Ania’ or ‘Acia’ country. In three weeks. Thus, she’s milking me for all the money she can by having me come twice a week until then. I’m OK with that at this point. Then we began the lesson.
I sang three ‘Mum’ scales and then singing stopped. We spent the next twenty-five minutes breathing. She taught me how to inhale for twenty-five minutes, people. Not just inhale but inhale using my back muscles, my ass muscles and my forehead. Betcha didn’t know you could breathe with your forehead did you. She also grabbed my head and pulled it. Singing and Chiropractic adjustments, so I guess I shouldn’t complain about the $20 lesson. I inhaled while walking, while standing, while sitting, and while crouching. At one point, she actually made me lie down on her floor and she put a very large book on my stomach to watch me breathe. Crazy.
My second lesson will be on Thursday, at which point she might just teach me how to exhale. Woooo. I can’t wait.
A very pleasant surprise: Joel knocked on my door last night and informed me that he was there to cut our lawn. Apparently, Esteban was concerned that he had told me that he would cut the grass before he left for Canada and he didn’t get to it, so he sent Joel instead. He cut our lawn last night at 9:30 at night in the dark. There’s a strange pattern which is apparent now. I’m calling it modern art: an urban juxtaposition of shorn and unshorn foliage. Or maybe it’s a Victorian lawn maze. I’m not certain. But it was awfully nice of him.
He also requested that I remove the hit that I have out on him. I informed him that Scott had already made a plea for that and there was no longer a hit out on him. He also said that when he said ‘Is it worth my time to read your diary’ that he didn’t really mean it that way. What he meant to say was that he’s only a vanity reader and only reads the stuff about him. Then, why, I ask you, why were the only people who voted in the Poll for ‘I want to see if she’s writing about me’ were Scott and Amandabean?
Really, I find it funny that Joel was worried about it. All I did was request that my two readers make fun of Joel willy nilly.
There’s a lot of sex out on Diaryland. I’m such the prude, I guess. I never realized. I’m currently transfixed by Badsnake who talks about a lot of polyamorous lesbian lovin’. And by ‘lovin&AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9- I mean lots of hot steamy sex.
If there’s anyone STILL reading this, having resisted the link to Badsnake’s diary, I hope that you all have a wonderful Tuesday.
Oh, and my boss just stopped me and said that she saw a sign this morning on a bank that said ‘Our Mastercard ROCKS!’ and she thought of me, because apparently I use that term often.
I’m glad that my professionalism is so obvious.
Mwah!
