"We can never go home"
Regionals this weekend. Wow.
Yesterday:
Bus ride was fun. We were all expectant and excited and tired, so a little loopy. I met Chandler, who is this freshman who wasn't awful. She's got a really pretty voice, and she's the friendliest person I've ever met. She started waving to these cars when we were walking to lunch because it was a really cool car. And it didn't faze her a bit when they just ignored her. And it was really weird; she knew everyone in the choir. It seemed like they'd been best friends for years, and I'm pretty sure she had just met at least a couple of them.
I saw people I knew from other schools, which was cool. And everyone was just friendly and we all had a lot of respect for one another. If you didn't know someone, you could just go up and start a conversation. And we all had so much in common that things were rarely awkward or weird.
There are so many people I met that I want to remember.
Hillarie, the girl I sat next to. She had a really pretty smile. I kept looking over at her because her smile was just so joyful and...compelling, I suppose.
Josh, the guy who sang the Rejoice solo. After we each sang a line of the two pretty songs this morning, he saw me, and he was like, "I love your voice. But you sounded a little unsure. Just let go and be free." and he has an amazing voice too. After his solo each time, I got shivers. Just every time I talked to him I felt a connection, like we related to each other on the fundamental level. It was so comfortable. I hope we meet again.
And there was Noah Brown. Nice boy. I think I invited him to come pee with us a couple times, because I'd ask one of the girls to go with me and he'd be talking to them at the same time.
And Nick. At the end of that first day, we were just walking out and we looked at each other and we had the exact same emotion: a little brain-washed tiredness but also the feeling of utmost contentment. Words were unnecessary.
Until I sang with that choir, it was as if something was switched off in me. I'd forgotten how to completely let go of the world, how to feel the music. Even though we had to learn five pieces, I had no worries s out the concert. My attention was to the emotions and expression; singing correctly was important, but it was like my brain was split in three. One portion to watch Dr. Hughes, one to sing, and the last to feel.
I loved the echoes, the pure feeling in each of the hundred-odd faces. We were all good singers, and it was such an honour to be able to sing with all of them. These past two days were the most fun I've had in a long time. I was right to cry last year, involuntary as it was, unbestownst to me what an incredible, wordless experience I didn't take part of. I have never felt this way with my viola. It got as close as you can get without getting there, I think, but it was still nowhere near as close.
And now I must choose between choir and orchestra yet again for that slim chance of All-State. Must my life always be reduced to this? I've lost count how many times I've had that dilemma. And if anything, this experience has made it all the harder.
For the first time, I could understand why someone would become a music major. If this is what their lives consist of, I don't blame them. With this choir, I can understand and moreover understand myself why I or anyone else would want to teach. If this is what you influence, this leashing and molding these raw emotions and meshing talent, shaping it and releasing it into a powerful charged audience, this type of power makes more sense to me than any other. Affecting the world with voices and expression, bettering the students' lives. That is worthwhile. I could perhaps maybe teach that.
I don't really know when I started singing. I guess I always liked to sing as a child, and it was just obvious to me that I'd do chorus in middle school, continuing in high school. And now, it's so much a part of me that I hope to never stop. I don't want that piece of my soul to die, ever.
I liked immensely being an alto. Honestly, I'd almost switch now if I could. They're so much more welcoming, and I'm more confident and more at home singing the harmony. It comes with playing the viola. It just feels right. My place in life is not to sing melody in front, but to interweave harmonies, to have a part in those crunchy chords and the resolving thereof. I'm not a flashy soprano, though I can hit the notes. I've had a rough time with my voice, and I feel like I'm just growing into it this year, as my confidence expands. My cords are finally catching up to my musicality and technical skills that I picked up from the viola.
I've finally figured put that my life will not be complete without music in it. I must continue after college. I am not content with just earning a minor and deserting music except for the occasional concert after that. I will find a way to pursue all my dreams, even the ones I'm not yet aware of.
On a less serious note, anectodes will come tomorrow. And my hair smells really really good.
Yesterday:
Bus ride was fun. We were all expectant and excited and tired, so a little loopy. I met Chandler, who is this freshman who wasn't awful. She's got a really pretty voice, and she's the friendliest person I've ever met. She started waving to these cars when we were walking to lunch because it was a really cool car. And it didn't faze her a bit when they just ignored her. And it was really weird; she knew everyone in the choir. It seemed like they'd been best friends for years, and I'm pretty sure she had just met at least a couple of them.
I saw people I knew from other schools, which was cool. And everyone was just friendly and we all had a lot of respect for one another. If you didn't know someone, you could just go up and start a conversation. And we all had so much in common that things were rarely awkward or weird.
There are so many people I met that I want to remember.
Hillarie, the girl I sat next to. She had a really pretty smile. I kept looking over at her because her smile was just so joyful and...compelling, I suppose.
Josh, the guy who sang the Rejoice solo. After we each sang a line of the two pretty songs this morning, he saw me, and he was like, "I love your voice. But you sounded a little unsure. Just let go and be free." and he has an amazing voice too. After his solo each time, I got shivers. Just every time I talked to him I felt a connection, like we related to each other on the fundamental level. It was so comfortable. I hope we meet again.
And there was Noah Brown. Nice boy. I think I invited him to come pee with us a couple times, because I'd ask one of the girls to go with me and he'd be talking to them at the same time.
And Nick. At the end of that first day, we were just walking out and we looked at each other and we had the exact same emotion: a little brain-washed tiredness but also the feeling of utmost contentment. Words were unnecessary.
Until I sang with that choir, it was as if something was switched off in me. I'd forgotten how to completely let go of the world, how to feel the music. Even though we had to learn five pieces, I had no worries s out the concert. My attention was to the emotions and expression; singing correctly was important, but it was like my brain was split in three. One portion to watch Dr. Hughes, one to sing, and the last to feel.
I loved the echoes, the pure feeling in each of the hundred-odd faces. We were all good singers, and it was such an honour to be able to sing with all of them. These past two days were the most fun I've had in a long time. I was right to cry last year, involuntary as it was, unbestownst to me what an incredible, wordless experience I didn't take part of. I have never felt this way with my viola. It got as close as you can get without getting there, I think, but it was still nowhere near as close.
And now I must choose between choir and orchestra yet again for that slim chance of All-State. Must my life always be reduced to this? I've lost count how many times I've had that dilemma. And if anything, this experience has made it all the harder.
For the first time, I could understand why someone would become a music major. If this is what their lives consist of, I don't blame them. With this choir, I can understand and moreover understand myself why I or anyone else would want to teach. If this is what you influence, this leashing and molding these raw emotions and meshing talent, shaping it and releasing it into a powerful charged audience, this type of power makes more sense to me than any other. Affecting the world with voices and expression, bettering the students' lives. That is worthwhile. I could perhaps maybe teach that.
I don't really know when I started singing. I guess I always liked to sing as a child, and it was just obvious to me that I'd do chorus in middle school, continuing in high school. And now, it's so much a part of me that I hope to never stop. I don't want that piece of my soul to die, ever.
I liked immensely being an alto. Honestly, I'd almost switch now if I could. They're so much more welcoming, and I'm more confident and more at home singing the harmony. It comes with playing the viola. It just feels right. My place in life is not to sing melody in front, but to interweave harmonies, to have a part in those crunchy chords and the resolving thereof. I'm not a flashy soprano, though I can hit the notes. I've had a rough time with my voice, and I feel like I'm just growing into it this year, as my confidence expands. My cords are finally catching up to my musicality and technical skills that I picked up from the viola.
I've finally figured put that my life will not be complete without music in it. I must continue after college. I am not content with just earning a minor and deserting music except for the occasional concert after that. I will find a way to pursue all my dreams, even the ones I'm not yet aware of.
On a less serious note, anectodes will come tomorrow. And my hair smells really really good.