Sing louder.
From age 13, I heard it frequently. Sing louder. Need more.
My choir teacher must have told me that 10,000 times in the 6 years I sang with him. Every year for district music festival we would sing in front out our classmates, who would write down what needed work. Any guesses what all of mine said EVERY YEAR? Sing louder.
At least they stopped caring in college when I was in an ensamble. But solos? Sing louder. Do you have any more volume than that, Rosemary? Louder. More.
It's not like I wasn't trying.
So I can't say I'm surprised that it is coming back to haunt me. The last few months have a theme. It's called: Louder. More. Bigger.
You know, one day I will find something I'm actually good at to do in my spare time.
So....I don't play loud enough. My movements are too small. And apparently, I'm not improving fast enough to make anyone feel like I'm working on it. In fact, there was a line of people waiting to tell me that I wasn't doing it right. In case I hadn't heard the first person. You know, I'm a pretty good sport. But after about 7 people telling me how AWFUL I am, I'm really not so much excited to be there anymore. Especially when I am only there as a favor, and not without sacrifice, to exactly the person who is leading the Rosemary Needs Bigger Arms parade. Let's go ahead and assume that if you tell a person that she is making a horrible, offensive, show-ruining mistake and it is not immediately corrected that A> she is deaf (making discussion useless), or B> she is doing her best.
Dabbie and Laura decided to have dinner together before practice. Unfortunately, Laura was allergic to something she ate. They both spent the entire evening at the emergency room. I am confused about part of that. Why didn't Debbie call Laura's family to join her there, and then come to practice? It seems strange to me, but maybe I am a terrible friend. Not that I would leave someone if my other obligations weren't having a Level Orange emergency, it's just that this performance is a particularly tense situation.
***
I stopped typing there to fight with my children and get them ready to go to my mom's. Not so bad, on the whole. They actually let my mom come inside for nearly 10 minutes this time. Last time, they didn't give her time to set her keys down. Now they are happily installed in her car and on the way to Rolla. ...and Mommy is a free woman!
I'm going to go watch something bloody while I'm still riding the high. If I don't, I'll probably get lonely and cry. Uh-oh. Starting to feel sad.
What should I watch? 13th Warrior? I love that one... Or Indiana Jones? Chicago? Ooo. We might have a winner.
I don't feel all cranky about last night anymore. I know I have a tendency to dwell. But I'm not gonna this time. It will all smooth out eventually.
Now, about that movie....
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