Yet another crazy dream (which I should've posted right away instead of waiting a few days so I forget everything):

I dreamed that when Mark and I come to visit Mike and Cathy in August, Cathy is visibly pregnant--about six months along, I would estimate. (And adorable, I should add.) The reason they moved in together is because she is in trouble. And that's the reason her mother came to visit, as well--to see preggo Cathy.

Isn't that a bizarre dream? I will admit that I've had total baby-on-the-brain lately--which for the most part has been transferred to really, REALLY wanting to get a dog. A smaller dog, perhaps a beagle or a Jack Russell (though we'd certainly get a mutt from the shelter--there are way too many great homeless dogs to adopt to actually go to a puppy mill and pay some sick amount of money that reinforces the macho, totally irresponsible notion of leaving pets unaltered...). There are some fabulous dogs to adopt at the pounds around here, but we can't have pets where we live. (Though our neighbor was able to have an exception made for her deaf and blind fifteen-year-old sweetheart of a kitty...) So one day we will get a dog, but it won't be until after we relocate. In the meantime, I will shamelessly covet other people's dogs.

When I get a little bored at work, I sometimes Google people from my distant, colorful past. (That is, instead of updating my BLOG, which is how I ought to be spending my time, right?) So yesterday I got the same idea while I was on Friendster. Now, I don't go on there very often--I signed up while I was in Florida to keep up with some singer contacts, and truly most of my Friends are other singers. And yesterday I got the idea to search out a girl who was in my studio in undergrad. Her mother was a singer in New York, so I assumed she would still be singing, more likely than not. She was a year behind me (and two years younger), and is the only person I've gone to school with who is almost exactly my voice type. Okay, my voice was "prettier", according to Jim F. (who I'd probably still have a tiny crush on if I ran into him), but we had similar-sized instruments. Anyway, what do you know, she came up in Friendster. (And through various connections I found Erik and Christine--hi!) And she is still singing. Then I Googled her: nice webpage--pretty amazing headshot, considering she's not the best-looking person--and her sound files were really good. So she's doing well, it seems.

But damn it all if I'm not getting competitive again. I was always competitive with her. She was a nice enough person--a bit on the catty side, but no more than the average singer--and we got along just fine, despite her undying love for Stephen Sondheim. And there were so few opportunities for us in undergrad, we were hardly ever in actual competition. But I always felt competitive with her. The thing is, as I mentioned before, I've never really known anybody the same voice type as myself. Okay, there was Stacey in Florida, but she's a few years older and better than me, and in addition is one of the sweetest, coolest people I know, so she doesn't count. My female colleague-friends are all mezzos or lighter sopranos. Even Summer, who I was double-cast with in Figaro, is a slightly smaller voice (which is partly why she could make a career singing her fabulous Contessa, and I still wake up in cold sweats over that evil aria "Dove sono")--plus Summer is awesome, and working together on Figaro only made us closer.

So is this the key to not being catty? Make friends with people?! That sounds way too simple to work. What about people who don't want to be friends with me? And there is the case of the other pseudo-"dramatic" soprano in Florida, who didn't like me in part because she was schtooping Peruvian Sexual-Harrasser Man and didn't like it when he paid attention to me--but I think she felt competitive with me, even though she was a few years older and her voice, while nice and well-supported, sure didn't sound as big as mine in similar rep... I didn't like her very much, but it was mainly because she could be really catty in the dressing room (and had lousy taste in men, obviously), and only secondarily because I felt some sort of competition with her. Maybe I'm just not as desensitized to competition as other people, because I've never really had anyone to compete with.

Am I a competitive person? I think so. I was competitive with grades in high school, to a point (though not excessively, I don't think). I know I'm very competitive with myself, and hard on myself when I don't feel I've done my best. But with board games and participatory sports? Not at ALL. That's why I'm no good at Scrabble or Monopoly or Risk or anything that involves strategy--and I only even like Scrabble because it feels educational. I think as a singer it's important to feel like you're competing with others a bit--mostly because it's completely true. But how much is too much? I've certainly never wished anyone ill will--it's completely not in my nature. (Unlike the aforementioned fellow soprano in Florida, who got really evil when the girl she was covering got sick--followed by "You know I'm just kidding", of course, but it was pretty clear she was hoping this girl would remain sick, and not in an abstract, wishful way, either. What a two-faced bitch!)

I don't know where I'm trying to go here. I certainly don't want to delude myself if I'm not all moonbeams and rainbows when it comes to another singer... But am I not cutthroat enough to do this? Is it more important for me to be liked than successful? Well, when you put it that way, OF COURSE. But I want to be BOTH. Ugh...

The other day Mark and I were paying a visit to the Evil Empire (he needed hickory chunks to smoke a pork shoulder) and these actual words passed from my lips:

Ooh, what a cute ottoman! Mark, don't you think that ottoman is cute?

And while yes, it was indeed a cute ottoman (small, oval-shaped, and you could store things inside), it struck me as an extremely yuppie thing to say. This, coupled with my affinity for "soft rock" stations--and the fact that I ordered a carafe of red wine while at a trendy new bar downtown last week--do not bode well... I think I'm getting old, guys!

I have more in me, I'm sure, but it can wait until tomorrow...

Take another shot of courage
Wonderin’ why the right words never come
You just get numb

I’ve always liked that part. I’ve never had a Tequila Sunrise, since it would certainly taste like tequila (aka turpentine)…

Things have been incredibly busy at work, and they are getting busier. We finally got the papers in for this conference, like three weeks after they were supposed to arrive, and now I have this huge box of manuscripts to go through. Hopefully I’ll have taken care of the preliminaries on all of them by this time next week. Ah, job security!

I just heard "18 and Life" on the radio. I meant to mention a few weeks ago that it was actually a clue on Jeopardy! I couldn’t believe my eyes. And nobody got it right, either. Though honestly, most of the contestants have been pretty sub-par lately.

Oh, and speaking of music, you can listen to my favorite radio station on the internet now. Enjoy!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!


So what about the use of the word "patriot" above implies lock-step agreement with one's president?

Just a thought...