Apparently The Friday Five is back...

1. What was your first Halloween costume?

Wonder Woman, I think. With Underoos. (Don't you wish they made those for adults?)

2. What was your best costume and why?

Probably Princess Leia (from Star Wars): white turtleneck, white sheet sarong-tied around my waist, gold necklace, cinnamon-bun braids. That was in 1996, when a bunch of us went to The Rat (my only time in there, I believe) for the dorm's Hallowe'en party. Christine and Elise and Cheryl got me drinks, and a bunch of nerdy guys asked me where my gold bikini was. That was a lot of fun.

And in 2001, Mark and I went as Marc Anthony and Cleopatra. That was pretty funny.

3. Did you ever play a trick on someone who didn't give you a treat?

No, not even when my one neighbor gave everybody apples. Bo-ring!

4. Do you have any Halloween traditions? (ie: Family pumpkin carving, special dinner before trick or treating, etc.)

I don't remember anything. Although for a few years in a row my mother would stop at Alfonso's (yummmm) and pick us up a pizza. I miss real New York pizza...

5. Share your favorite scary story...real or legend!

My vocal ped teacher told the class about this girl who sneezed in a lesson once and broke a capillary on one of her vocal folds. She was not allowed to speak for three weeks.

This is pretty scary to me, in any case. It was just a regular sneeze. You never know what could happen...

Must go to bathroom. Happy Hallowe'en!

I can't believe it's been so long since I've updated. For the last few weeks, I feel like I've been letting time slip away from me...

The wedding was great, of course, and so was meeting Mark's new nephew. (We took some fun pictures, which I will link to once I get Mark to scan them.) And we went wine tasting on the Seneca Lake wine trail, which was fun.

Coming back to regular life was rough, though. Hours before I left for Mark's the previous Wednesday, my teacher told me she wanted me to sing (my bête noir crazy aria with the scary tessitura and the high B, no less) in this studio voice recital on Tuesday. So I would get out of work at five, fly to campus to sing at five-thirty, then be at the self-defense course across campus at six-thirty. And of course I wasn't at the beginning of the recital; at six-fifteen I was still onstage. The same thing happened Thursday, when a recital I was required to attend didn't get out until six-fifteen. (The course went well, I guess; I feel more confident, in any case. And I enjoy kneeing men in the groin.) That and rehearsal three times a week, and this dumb concert I have to do at the church (at least they're paying me), and coachings and lessons and practice sessions... Oh, and the spring opera auditions were on Monday. I made the asshole mistake of offering a third aria (one which I hadn't done in a lesson for a while, though I did coach it a few weeks ago) - the one the director has NEVER picked - and what do you know, he wants to hear it. It was not my best performance. It didn't suck, but I've done it lots better. At least I am consoled by:
(a) The man generally casts shows before auditions, presumably using them for confirmation, so I'm not sure how important it was;
(b) He hears me sing all the time, and knows I've improved a lot and am a hard and enthusiastic worker;
(c) I have to sing that crazy aria again on Monday in a master class, and I assume he will be in attendance (he skipped the recital last week);
(d) I think he likes me, even though I don't kiss his ass.

What does bother me is that I have apprentice auditions (well, at least one confirmed - Santa Fe) in New York in December, and I'm feeling a bit less than prepared. I have this one aria that is just not working. I will only offer it if they must hear something in German - and I know the certificate program I'm applying for will want to hear it. So I have a month to kick this aria in the ass. I'm beginning to suspect that floaty B-flats are not really within my grasp. Unless I can make this work for me I'm going to shelve it after December. There are so many cool German arias for my Fach - but they're all just a little big for me. Screw it! I'm learning "Ob die Wolke", and I don't care if Der Freischütz is never performed in the Western Hemisphere! :)

Okay, enough singer-ese. What are y'all doing for Hallowe'en? I found this fuzzy tiger-ear headband (tags still on) at Goodwill for 75 cents (sprayed with Lysol, thank you!), so I am going to be a tigress. (Tigers are one of our natural predators, you know. So are bears. Mark and I went to the state zoo last Saturday and we got to see grizzly bears and polar bears and mountain lions and bison. They're a rescuing type of zoo, and the polar bears had been liberated from someplace in the Caribbean where they'd been kept in tiny cages. Well, tiny for a polar bear. Anyway, the poor thing was neurotic or something, and he/she had developed this rocking tic that apparently will go away with time and proper care. I felt so bad! But I digress.) Anyway, I don't have anything orange to wear so I'll have to wear all black. I'll be like a Sixties, Catwoman-type of tiger. Black Cleopatra eyeliner, dark nails with red tips, drawn-on nose and whiskers courtesy of my Ben Nye kit, pinned-on black trouser sock for a tail... I hope I don't look too ghetto. It'll look great with my corset and petticoat at opera rehearsal tomorrow. I'm driving to Mark's in the evening (I think he's going with his old standby - Fidel Castro, if you can believe it), but I don't know what we're doing. Maybe we could trick-or-treat at the mall. :)

Speaking of which, what were our parents thinking when they let us go out trick-or-treating? I guess we were okay as long as we were in groups. And come to think of it, we usually had an adult with us. I think I would be a nervous wreck if my kids were out there alone. There's too many psychopaths out there. Or they could get hit by a car, or get lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood, or eat their candy before they got home... We used to eat candy out of the bags all the time, and nothing ever happened to anyone I know. My mother's friend's son found a pin stuck into a Butterfinger once fifteen years ago, but I don't even think that was Hallowe'en.

I feel like I'm babbling...

And I didn't even mention my latest injury. (I swear, I'm not a hypochondriac!) Friday morning I woke up with a stiff neck. It didn't get much better over the next few days, and yesterday morning I must've turned my head funny and I REALLY hurt it. It's a muscle spasm, apparently, and they prescribed a muscle relaxer (which hasn't made me sleepy, miraculously), Advil and heat/ice packs. Driving is a problem (since turning my head to the right hurts a lot - parallel parking is out of the question, and changing lanes is a challenge), and it's rather difficult to sing - last night I had this dress rehearsal for the church concert, and I'm surprised I made it through. I'm generally okay if I hold my neck (though I have trouble sustaining pharyngeal space, which is a problem for me anyway), but I can't exactly do that during a concert. And with this master class Monday... Well, I'm going to be very careful and rest a lot so I'll be well enough by then. It's very frustrating.

Anyway, I should get going. Hopefully you'll get a Friday Five post tomorrow...

Okay, I guess it works. We're leaving for New York tomorrow and, surprise of surprises, I actually have everything done! I've just finished my lesson observation report (all ten pages of it), re-edited my artistic resume, and am about to show my voice teacher my headshot proofs before running to rehearsal, then mailing my application for Central City Opera's summer program. (I have to send my old headshot--arf! It's not that bad a picture of me, but the quality just sucks. I have this almost invisible two-inch scar on my cheek--Mark didn't even know it was there, but it's front and center in this picture. Plus I look all freckly. Just a poor-quality photo. Hopefully they'll grant me an audition, so I can show them my sexy new headshots!) Mark won't be out of Spanish class (yep) until 7:30, so maybe I'll practice. Or maybe I'll go to Crabtree Mall and get my eyebrows waxed. Fun! No, actually, I need to practice. My piano lesson was painful today. I felt like such an idiot. ANYWAY, I guess I'll see H and C soon! I can't wait until you hear "Over the Rainbow" a cappella, in E-flat...I've been playing around with this subito thing... Well, see you all soon. :)

The computer just gave me this weird message about debugging or something, so let this be a test...

I just wrote this really long post, and then I accidentally closed the window. Anyway. I'll update you all later.

I know they mean well, but this is just plain creepy...

Cathy: Thank you so much for telling me about uglydress.com. My favorite is this one, though the Prom Patriot is a close second...

As predicted, Mark things that my overflowing dirty pillows are no crime. I could leave the house wrapped in cellophane and Mark would think I was decently attired. You know, for all his vanilla posturing, he sure seems to enjoy me dressing like a slut. No, that sounds mean. I think he just loves me a lot, and thinks I look good all the time (provided I'm mildly stylish--he's been watching way too much What Not to Wear). I can appreciate that, but I'm the kind of person who is genuinely interested in the fit (or lack thereof) of my pants, not one of those "Does this make my butt look big?" people. I know my butt is big--I just want to know if something is too small for the butt on a given day...

Anyway...

Today is Mark's birthday. I had the weekend planned out--that we were going to relax, go to the farmer's market, have a quiet dinner Saturday, and basically just spend the weekend together, talking and enjoying each other's company. That, and I was going to make him a cake--well, the aforementioned peach pie. Well, it was shot from the very beginning, when I found out Friday that I was going to have rehearsal all day on Sunday (I get out of church at 12:30, then had rehearsal from 1-3:30 and 6-10), so there was no reason for Mark to stick around Sunday. I was kind of in a grumpy mood most of the day Saturday (I didn't sleep very well), and we had decided to have dinner at my place, then go to see School of Rock. Generally my house is empty on Saturday nights. Well, not this one. Two of three of my housemates are right there, sitting in front of the television and decidedly settled in for the evening. God forbid I want to have an intimate dinner with Mark, even if it's only chili! I was disappointed, so my crappy mood got worse, and I ended up yelling at Mark about him drying his hands with a dirty kitchen towel. Now, I am very concerned with hand-washing (particularly while cooking), but I really flew off the handle. So he got angry, and things were pretty tense. Then we went to the theater, and we were 40 minutes late for the movie. Mark wanted to go in; I didn't, and was willing to wait until the next showing. Everything just kind of blew up. We ended up just sitting in the car for two hours (a place where we could actually be alone), talking about what's been going on. We've both been stressed lately--in Mark's case, largely because of the whole pregnancy scare thing. We took that EXTREMELY seriously, probably too seriously, and my usually level-headed pookybutt pretty much had a panic attack a few weeks back. He's still recuperating, really. And my stress meter usually says "This one goes up to eleven" (you KNOW I love Christopher Guest), but I've been sitting up there for like a month straight, so long that it's wearing more than usual, and I'm taking it out on him. And Saturday night we realized that, with all this summer program mess taking up so much space in my brain right now, I hadn't even let him know what was going on. He thought I was applying for young artist programs, which would separate us for a year at a time. He can't handle that. I've been so concerned about getting things going, without messing up his career, that I disregarded the fact that he might be interested in changing jobs at some point. He doesn't want to stay in Raleigh forever--which I knew, but I always just assumed that we'd be apart for a while. He doesn't want that, and neither do I. He went so far as to say that, if we had to be separated for a year, that things would be over, that we wouldn't be able to maintain our relationship. I always just assumed that we could, that it would be hard but we would manage somehow. But we can't be married and live apart for that long. I want so badly to start my life with him. Not to have kids right away, but within a few years, I guess. And it's so hard already to live eighty miles apart, to only see each other on the weekends, to have to do all our communicating by telephone, to squeeze our relationship into 36-hour blocks. It reminded me a bit of when Helen and What's-His-Face-Doormat-Boy-Who-I-Wanted-to-Slap wouldn't want to fight over the phone, so they would ruin the only time they had to spend together with arguments. Granted, we're not arguing (well, for a little while this weekend there was some heated discussion), but is it selfish for me to want to be with him ALL THE TIME? I mean, I know we can't stay in bed until noon and wallow in cutesy-ness every day, but you know what I'm saying. I want our life to begin. I want the joint bank account and the receding hairline and even the yardwork.

Yuck. I think I'm officially an adult.

Does the "yuck" cancel it out?

So anyway, we had an intense Saturday night (punctuated by crying jags from me--I'm such a nutjob, I tear up--even now--whenever I think about how I want us to spend the rest of our lives together; imagine what the wedding will be like), and then watched School of Rock, which was formulaic but very funny in its endorsement of Jim Steinman-esque rock pomposity ("Raise your goblet of rock!"). And I have this inexplicable soft spot for Jack Black. I think I might have ended up with someone like him, had my life turned out differently. But I'm weird like that. Anyway, there was a preview for Elf, this Will Ferrell movie in which a (tall, brawny) man, raised by elves in the North Pole, comes to visit his real father (James Caan) in the big city. The trailer was hilarious. Seriously, everybody in the theater was ROTFL. I wonder, though, if they just jammed all the funny bits in the trailer. I may wait to see that one at the second-run place.

So yeah, right now my stress is kind of tempered by some very intense feelings about my future. And I guess that's kind of stressful, too. But at least I know I have somebody to share that with. What I need to keep in mind is that this is a partnership, so I shouldn't try to bear all the burdens myself. Dude, maybe we should get that pre-cana counseling now. First we need to join a church, though. So anyway, that's what's going on right now. I really need to eat lunch...

P.S. They're having a RAD class at the end of the month. I've always been too afraid to sign up for those--too many ghosts--but I'm going to take the plunge, I think. I need to stop being afraid, for God's sake...

On a happier note, Mark's birthday is Monday! I asked him what kind of cake he wanted, and he said pie. Peach pie. Ladies and gentlemen, my future husband is a total dork.

A Friday Five about cars...

1. What vehicle do you drive?

'Rolla, my 1994 Corolla. Magenta/grey.

2. How long have you had it?

She was a birthday present when I turned 23. So, three-and-a-half years.

3. What is the coolest feature on your vehicle?

The cruise control? I just have a regular tape deck, after all (I have one of those cigarette-lighter jobs if I want a CD).

4. What is the most annoying thing about your vehicle?

She's getting old, I fear. Intermittent hesitation going into fourth gear, broken casing around the steering wheel (which sometimes messes up the cruise control), some dents... Nothing major, so I really have no reason to complain.

5. If money were no object, what vehicle would you be driving right now?

One of those Toyota hybrids--even if they look like bugs, they're the wave of the future. That, or the Batmobile, but it'd be a bitch to parallel-park.

So I bought my dress for the wedding yesterday. It's a Jones New York tea-length that I got on sale for $60. It's very cute. The only problem? It's...well...do you know who Karen Walker is? I'm a martini and a sassy Guatemalan maid away from being her in this dress. It is VERY lowcut. I had to buy a new bra just so it wouldn't stick out the front. Elena has suggested a lace inset--definitely an option. That day needs to be about Helen and Greg and their love, not about that girl who was popping out of her dress. So I'll figure something out.

I met with my opera director guy today to talk about summer program stuff. He had some good ideas. The good thing is, I'm not really all that freaked out by him anymore. I think I'm just able to see him more for what he is. And I don't take the hype seriously anymore. The spring auditions are the week after the wedding, and I plan on going in there just like I did for the ones last May: relatively relaxed, friendly, enthusiastic. It seemed to work last time. And I refuse to get caught up in the politics of the whole thing. I'm not a brown-noser, and I can't let the choice of opera rule the rest of my life. All I can do is my best, and be myself.

(Hopefully I'll be able to take these observations with me to the summer program auditions, but I'll probably be a nervous wreck...)