"Spackled some butter over my whole grain bread"
Nightingale update: I'm playing the Queen (Philomele's mother) and June (part of the female chorus, which is really not a very chorus-y chorus, in the Greek sense, as we all speak individually and have distinctive character traits.) I'm really excited, although also a bit nervous about the huge time commitment. Also, must check with the catering people about whether or not they will still want me when my hours are so limited.
So, rehearsals start tonight, and I'm supposed to get measured for costumes sometime this afternoon . . . which I suppose I'll do sometime before my last class, since that's 4:00-6:00 and the shop closes at 6:00. Then rehearsal/meet-and-greet at 6:30. Diving right in.
The landladies apparently have decided not to allow pets anymore, so even though Charlie is trying to find a new home for the kitten he can't keep because of allergies, I can't take her. D: Maybe that's better, though -- I'm going to be home so little for a while now, I'd feel like a bad kitten mommy. Cats may be pretty self-sufficient, but they need some love and attention. Ahh, well. There's still Gillbert the betta fish.
Because it's not my LJ without relationship bitchery at some point: ex-boy will not leave be about my sex life, despite being assured that any time he is not a part of it I consider it none of his goddamn business. Am not entirely certain why he must know when he insists it doesn't matter what I do. x_x It's getting a bit ridiculous. But, whatever -- maybe I will become so disillusioned that I'll stop caring and it will case to be an issue one of these days, or maybe my newfound total lack of patience for his nonsense will make him stop some of said nonsense. Either way, I have no intention of putting up with it anymore.
Just finished Kurt Vonnegut's God Bless You, Doctor Kevorkian. Good stuff. Chances are I won't get to read for pleasure for a while, alas, but when I do have the time I'll check out some more Vonnegut.
Mmm. Music. Ingrid Michaelson is one of those singers there was really no way I wouldn't get into, I think. So pretty.
So, rehearsals start tonight, and I'm supposed to get measured for costumes sometime this afternoon . . . which I suppose I'll do sometime before my last class, since that's 4:00-6:00 and the shop closes at 6:00. Then rehearsal/meet-and-greet at 6:30. Diving right in.
The landladies apparently have decided not to allow pets anymore, so even though Charlie is trying to find a new home for the kitten he can't keep because of allergies, I can't take her. D: Maybe that's better, though -- I'm going to be home so little for a while now, I'd feel like a bad kitten mommy. Cats may be pretty self-sufficient, but they need some love and attention. Ahh, well. There's still Gillbert the betta fish.
Because it's not my LJ without relationship bitchery at some point: ex-boy will not leave be about my sex life, despite being assured that any time he is not a part of it I consider it none of his goddamn business. Am not entirely certain why he must know when he insists it doesn't matter what I do. x_x It's getting a bit ridiculous. But, whatever -- maybe I will become so disillusioned that I'll stop caring and it will case to be an issue one of these days, or maybe my newfound total lack of patience for his nonsense will make him stop some of said nonsense. Either way, I have no intention of putting up with it anymore.
Just finished Kurt Vonnegut's God Bless You, Doctor Kevorkian. Good stuff. Chances are I won't get to read for pleasure for a while, alas, but when I do have the time I'll check out some more Vonnegut.
Mmm. Music. Ingrid Michaelson is one of those singers there was really no way I wouldn't get into, I think. So pretty.