Toward A Feminist Reading of vocal porn, acid reflux, vampire-romance and dating.
Or, life update week of 2/23:
These are the things that keep me alive, the things i really need in my life at any given time:
I DON'T DATE (this has already been covered.) Whether connection and/or baseball will emerge out of my new plans is yet to be told. When it is told, I probably won't have anything to say about it on LJ. I do have to say that I can't imagine why anyone would want to date someone who spends 3 weeknights/week at band practice, 4 nights a week songwriting, every Saturday at daylong band-meeting-then-band-practice, and plays shows at least several times a month. But hey. To each their own. I know I wouldn't want to date me. And scheduling is only the least significant of reasons why.
Dear Most People Who Want To Date Me,
Go away. You don't know me and you will only end up hating me. BELIEVE me. Who knows best about matters of me? You or me? Answer: me.
Signed,
The Poisoned Well.
VOCAL PORN+ALLEGED ACID REFLUX
This week I have my second vocal therapy session. Here are some details I failed to lay out from last time.
Backstory: (Preamble: Not being able to sing is for me, one of the absolute worst things I can imagine. My voice is one of the most central parts of my identity. Speaking, yelling, singing... So.) My left vocal fold (the vocal "folds" are the white-ish things in the picture. as opposed to all the fleshy pink stuff in the foreground) was swollen last summer before tour. They didn't know if there was a polyp (that's kind of like a blister) on it, under the swelling. Yet inexplicable the treatment plan included lots of unnecessary nasal sprays and reflux drugs, despite the total lack of evidence to suggest they would help the SWELLING, which was what I understood to be the main issue. After steroids, Prilosec, beta blockers, and more -- I was still in bad shape. We cancelled only 2 shows total on the fall tour, because I wanted to go to an ENT and make sure I wasn't like literally tearing apart my own insides, which is what it felt like. I wasn't. Another camera up the nose, down the throat verified that. Left vocal fold swollen. No more, no less. Unclear if under the swelling is a polyp; unclear if said potential polyp would require surgery.
Frontstory: Upon having my vocal track sufficiently numbed, the Dr. was able to stick the camera down my throat and get me to "sing" and gag repeatedly. Thankfully, this entire process was captured on video (now that's SERIOUS vocal porn). My left vocal fold is now significantly less swollen than it was. What remains is a "polypoid" -- aka some fluid under the skin puffing up the left vocal fold, ever so slightly impeding proper closure. My only treatment for this seems to be the following, frustrating exercise: sing "oooh" at a comfortable high part of my register, glissando down to spoken range and say the word "one" with resonance. This is the key to my repair?? This is very hard for me to take seriously, or understand. I am trying. But now, out of nowhere, despite my assertion that Prilosec did nothing to help me, the ENT says "there is still evidence of acid scarring." I say "don't you think this could be because of the years of bulimia." He says "usually, those scars fade." And so, I'm supposed to go back on a stupid evil drug that causes vitamin deficiencies. I am torn. The industry is EVIL.
I'm grateful. I'm pissed off. It fucking sucks not having that person you deal with all this with. Genug.
VAMPIRE ROMANCE
I got to read the manuscript for an awesome teen vampire romance. I'm really grateful for this dayjob. Some of the work is fun. Some of it is fine. None of it is horrible. Plus I get to read mets training coverage, gchat and lj. i really can't complain.
These are the things that keep me alive, the things i really need in my life at any given time:
- playing music/writing songs,
- social justice work,
- jewish practice,
- connecting with amazing people,
- and of course: adventure, baseball, wrestling.
- insomnia,
- depression,
- heartbreak,
- people fucking being fucking horrible,
- vocal cord injury,
- alleged acid reflux,
- having to "get to know people,"
- it not being baseball season.
I DON'T DATE (this has already been covered.) Whether connection and/or baseball will emerge out of my new plans is yet to be told. When it is told, I probably won't have anything to say about it on LJ. I do have to say that I can't imagine why anyone would want to date someone who spends 3 weeknights/week at band practice, 4 nights a week songwriting, every Saturday at daylong band-meeting-then-band-practice, and plays shows at least several times a month. But hey. To each their own. I know I wouldn't want to date me. And scheduling is only the least significant of reasons why.
Dear Most People Who Want To Date Me,
Go away. You don't know me and you will only end up hating me. BELIEVE me. Who knows best about matters of me? You or me? Answer: me.
Signed,
The Poisoned Well.
VOCAL PORN+ALLEGED ACID REFLUX
This week I have my second vocal therapy session. Here are some details I failed to lay out from last time.
Backstory: (Preamble: Not being able to sing is for me, one of the absolute worst things I can imagine. My voice is one of the most central parts of my identity. Speaking, yelling, singing... So.) My left vocal fold (the vocal "folds" are the white-ish things in the picture. as opposed to all the fleshy pink stuff in the foreground) was swollen last summer before tour. They didn't know if there was a polyp (that's kind of like a blister) on it, under the swelling. Yet inexplicable the treatment plan included lots of unnecessary nasal sprays and reflux drugs, despite the total lack of evidence to suggest they would help the SWELLING, which was what I understood to be the main issue. After steroids, Prilosec, beta blockers, and more -- I was still in bad shape. We cancelled only 2 shows total on the fall tour, because I wanted to go to an ENT and make sure I wasn't like literally tearing apart my own insides, which is what it felt like. I wasn't. Another camera up the nose, down the throat verified that. Left vocal fold swollen. No more, no less. Unclear if under the swelling is a polyp; unclear if said potential polyp would require surgery.
Frontstory: Upon having my vocal track sufficiently numbed, the Dr. was able to stick the camera down my throat and get me to "sing" and gag repeatedly. Thankfully, this entire process was captured on video (now that's SERIOUS vocal porn). My left vocal fold is now significantly less swollen than it was. What remains is a "polypoid" -- aka some fluid under the skin puffing up the left vocal fold, ever so slightly impeding proper closure. My only treatment for this seems to be the following, frustrating exercise: sing "oooh" at a comfortable high part of my register, glissando down to spoken range and say the word "one" with resonance. This is the key to my repair?? This is very hard for me to take seriously, or understand. I am trying. But now, out of nowhere, despite my assertion that Prilosec did nothing to help me, the ENT says "there is still evidence of acid scarring." I say "don't you think this could be because of the years of bulimia." He says "usually, those scars fade." And so, I'm supposed to go back on a stupid evil drug that causes vitamin deficiencies. I am torn. The industry is EVIL.
I'm grateful. I'm pissed off. It fucking sucks not having that person you deal with all this with. Genug.
VAMPIRE ROMANCE
I got to read the manuscript for an awesome teen vampire romance. I'm really grateful for this dayjob. Some of the work is fun. Some of it is fine. None of it is horrible. Plus I get to read mets training coverage, gchat and lj. i really can't complain.