Rolling with the Punches of Pondering

Well now! As I sit here on my bed, with my belongs shuffled over the foot of my bed, and desk chair, I am not only pondering the need to tidy my side of the room. Just the fact that I need to tidy up reminds me of the twister that swept through this week of school. Very stressful. I learned all over again the sickening sensation of a weather bend when my nose and head were not expecting it. Allergies. Proof that humanity has fallen into a fallen world. Right there. 

Today it is absolutely gorgeous. I've been feeling a lot better since yesterday and haven't sneezed nearly as much. I was probbaly sneezing over 50 times a day this week. I know. I know! Be still! I didn't know it was possible either! Seriously, I thought it was bad in NJ. Anyway, I should stop balking and simply be thankful I'm feeling better now anyway! It's a preview day at GC, so the choir had some performing. A two hour rehearsal, and then a short performance. Tomorrow we'll be singing for a church in Alton, and then off the the Sheldon concert hall in St. Louis for a late afternoon concert. I love this part. All the backbreaking work of endless rehearsals that rob us of our free time and ability to speak for approximately 4.7 hours afterwards... and now we finally get the end product. Not without dizzying tidying up of silly broken spots, but it's so much fun. I love performing. 

Performing is when everything makes sense. Performing is my favorite part. It's a connection. A willingness to understand and be understood. When just rehearsing, it's tiring, I don't always give my best. I get lazy. I don't always deliver. But the focus and exhilaration of performing is like warm oil being poured over my head, and intense broiling fingers of fire to catch in my throat to send out each note, each sigh of music. It's a desire that is quite unlike the mundane joy that comes with realizing I don't have as much homework as I thought, or remembering I can sleep in the next morning. No. This is something that must occur. 

I had an awesome conversation with my friend Whitney recently. We were talking about music. We've been writing songs together for a few months now, and it's been incredible. I've never had such perfect musical chemistry with anyone, ever. It's such a Godthing. She lives a few doors down from me and everything. Pretty easy! So we discussed music. I think every musician/musical person has a story to tell about their relationship to music. Some love to share, and aren't aware of anything but their love for music. Sometimes it causes them to feel that everyone understands the love, even if they don't. The love is extremely external in exposition. Then, there are some that it's a little more personal of a love. It's something that does not always show itself. Some fear being misunderstood. Others maybe are a little more selective about when and where to display the heart of a musician. 

There is such an obvious difference between those who are, shall we say, "artsy" and then, everyone else. I know that's blunt. But I'm not talking about the different types of people in the "everyone else" category right now. I'm just making a distinction between artsy and non-artsy.  I will consider myself artsy. I'm weird. I say things in ways that extend far past what I should allow my brain to go after studying and practicing as much as I do. I'm unfair to those around me academically and sensationally weary. I get bored with saying and expressing things in a normal way. Somehow I end up rhyming, or using alliterations and metaphors... I speak in metaphor all the time... oh the innocent souls I feed to turmoil of the mind!! Resistance to think farther than I do... it's ok. I do apologize. Please accept, and let's continue to be friends.

Anyway! The Artsy ones. We might burden those around us in silly, wonderful ways. *sigh* I love it. We're the ones who could be found staring off to space because of a perfect thought, or a vacant one. Either. Just as easily. We're the ones who see our lives as books, and can disconnect urselves to wonder who our "readers" would be rooting for-- the person we're mad at, or the other character. We wonder if what just happened to us would be the perfect place to end a chapter as a cliffhanger. We listen to music and think of how it's really the song that's playing in the background as we watch the "movie" or of lives. We're the ones who come up with a whole lingo to express the condition of the day. For example... *ahem* "Today is such an Fb dimished day!" Or for the says that start good... and end badly... "Augmented." It was going so well... ahhhh wistfulness! 

I guess we can all be considered artsy in some way. But in all seriousness, some of us are just weirder than others. I am perfectly strange. I suck as a singer sometimes. sometimes I wonder how in the world I'm a vocal major, nearing the end of my Junior year (Which is crazy in itself apart form what I'm majoring in anyway). But, even the things I "can't" do in practice, or in a different nonperformance setting... somehow it all changes when I'm actually performing. There is a special delivery of persistence and commitment to the here and now. It's beautiful. And I love it. 

Ok, so I wasn't planning on saying all of that. But I guess I just gotta roll with the punches of pondering.