9 posts tagged “divas”

good grief.

what a shift.

I suspected that things were going to gang a bit agley during this shift when I stepped into the ladies' room before starting my shift.  While applying powder and lipstick, I saw this conversation between a woman and her three-ish grandson, who was washing his hands:

Grandson:  "Don't WANNA wash hands!"

Grandma: "Okay, then just wipe them with this wet paper towel."

(Grandson does so, then throws wet and germy paper towel on the floor.  His older sister reaches to pick it up.)

Grandma: "Oh, just leave that; they get paid to do that." (ie, clean up such messes)

They leave restroom.  They couldn't have known that I worked there.

What the heck?  Oh, c'mon, ubicaritas, I said.  This one thing doesn't mean that the shift is going to go badly.  Honestly, lighten up already.

Not ten minutes later, I am blissfully sipping an iced coffee.  I go to set it on a shelf at the customer service desk and somehow misjudge the distance.  I spend the next twenty minutes wiping  hazelnut latte off of the desk, the computer screens, the binders, the phone book, the keyboards, the signs, etc.  How on earth did eight ounces or so of liquid splatter that far and that effectively?  Eh, whatever.  Didn't really need the caffeine anyway, right? 

The phone rings.  "Do you sell books by black authors?" No, we have a strict whites-only policy.  "Yes ma'am, we do."

Help various customers. 

The phone rings again.  "So y'all are selling books now?"  No, we've decided to focus exclusively on armadillos..  "Yes, we do."

Help various other customers, many of whom want to know if we have items in stock, but don't want them when we do.  What the heck?

The phone rings again.  "Do you have AP study guides?"  "Yes, we do; for which AP test did you need a guide?"  "Um, like, the AP test!"  "Yes, but which one?  English?  Literature?  Physics?  US History?"  "Um, I dunno." My suggestion:  don't.  even.  bother.

Help more customers, one of whom has been assigned to read "the fiction (?!?!!!!) book Hiroshima" for his summer reading list.  I discovered during the course of the conversation that this person a) was a sophmore in high school and b) did not know that Hiroshima was one of the two locations where the atomic bomb was dropped, though he was pretty sure it was dropped "in the 50s during the Vietnam War."  I have seen the future, and it is ignorant.

Then there was the delightful little old lady who called and wanted books on gardening.  I could have spent all evening with her (and very nearly did).  Well educated, certainly from the East Coast (my guess was Rhode Island).  Has a voice EXACTLY like that of my first "voice teacher" (we saw each other for two weeks straight every year or so, and would sing for most of that time.).  Just the nicest person.  I did make a $140 sale by the time all was said and done, and I know that she'll be a loyal customer from now on, but (to my mind) more importantly we laughed together as I found and ordered her books.  She sounded both housebound and handicapped in some way (she had to call back later for something else as she needed to wait for someone to get home so that he could go upstairs and get some information for her) and clearly was delighted that someone would spend some time just chatting as well.  While she was rather time-consuming, it was worth every minute.

Part of the problem this evening was that we were so bloody short-staffed.  One cashier, one supervisor who spent most of his time either cashiering or answering calls for a supervisor from different areas of the store, one manager, and TWO people on the floor.  TWO.  Ergo, if one of us was on the phone, the other was swamped.  And that phone never did seem to stop ringing.  I was taking care of at least two lines for most of the evening.

At about 9 (we close at 11) I was told that I was in charge of the kids' section for cleanup.  I got back there just long enough to see that it looked as though a bomb had gone off over there.  I was called back to wait on customers and only got to start tidying at 10:40.  I could have cried.

All nights must end, however, and we finally left at about 12:20.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Shortly after nine (I think...time seemed to blur together a lot tonight) a diva friend stopped in to get some books.  While we didn't have a chance to talk, I did get a quick hug.  Someone (capital S)  must have known I needed one! 

The benadryl is starting to kick in, and I must go take out the contacts and then go to bed.  I am not in the least above sleeping twelve hours or so tonight.

 

Today=Monday.  Mondays are usually good days to begin with, despite their 9 AM piano class (I love the sound of a well-played piano, but that isn't what one hears if I sit at a keyboard, and 9 AM ISN'T MORNING YET, why does no one understand this?  But I digress).  There is a voice lesson in the afternoon, and a vocal repertoire class that evening.  Plus, lots of unstructured free time through the day, as I never work on Mondays.  Much of this free time is spent in homework etc, but I occasionally fit a nap into the early afternoon.  Naps are lovely things.

Today we had a guest master class in vocal rep, which is precisely what it sounds like.  A guest "lecturer" comes in and works with a few students while the rest of us watch and learn.  New perspectives, different approaches, all that good shtuff.  With me so far?  Excellent.

This was the first time that I sang for a guest lecturer.  I expected to be terrified, or at least nervous and unable to take a deep breath.  The latter frequently happens when I get onstage, even with people with whom I am very comfortable.

I wasn't nervous.  Just...not at all.  I felt fine.  I felt at home on the stage.  I didn't feel at all self-conscious, yet I wasn't just "zoned out," which I will do to avoid stressful situations.  I was there, I was comfortable, I didn't think once about how I looked.  I just became an anxious and upset servant girl, and sang about how dreadful it was that I had lost a pin, Heaven help me!

I enjoyed every second, and genuinely LOVED being onstage and making people laugh.  It was awesome, in the original sense of the word.  I'm just in awe.

Miracles abound, and are beautiful.

It truly was.

Of course, first we had a tech rehearsal.  Or two.  Then came time for putting the set together:

 

 

 

do. not. look. down.

 

i'm glad you found a way to hoist the star drop up to the ceiling, but i'm getting out of here before another chunk of plaster comes flying at me, 'k?

 

and magic is worked!  (ignore the floor.  don't even ask.  suffice to say that it was "fixed" by the night of the performance)

 

rehearsals et all were punctuated by la maestra diva's birthday celebration...

 

not one of my more stellar culinary efforts.

 

 

yes, she blew all of them out.  so there!

 

and then, of course, there was the dress rehearsal:

 

 

they OWN tiny, blonde and cute

 

 

when in doubt, use eyeliner.  trust me.

 

 

"err...don't you think that's a little light?"  "if we blend really well at the jawline...?"  "nah"

 

 

divas of the makeup table

 

 

it is COLD back here...oh, crap, she has a camera!  smile!

 

 

i was SO blessed to work with these ladies on this musical; i've learned so much! 

 

two nights later, we were supposed to put on the show.  then this happened:

 

 

 

i love snow, but WHY TODAY?

 

this did not dampen our spirits.  on monday, we did our show.  and it rocked.  and they had to bring chairs into the aisles 'cause the house was PACKED.  hah.

sure, we can do a musical tonight and an ear training midterm tomorrow morning.  right?  errr...right.  yeah.

 

oooh, look what someone sent me!

 

and look what else i got!

 

 

did i mention i love roses?

 

 

themaureencorps and shewhomustbeobeyed came!  yay!

 

 

when you're driving through the moonlight on the highway, look out for chicks with curling irons!

 

we ARE diva

 

 

i am not even gonna TRY to caption this.  yes, that is a cello case in the chorus line.

It was a grand night for singing.  In fact, it was glorious.  Exhausting, admittedly, but worth every second.  Thank you, divas and divos! 

love from

 

ubicaritas.

today we had a dress rehearsal for Thursday's production of A Grand Night for Singing.

much makeup was applied, many voices were warmed, much laughter was shared.

this was an invitational dress rehearsal; basically, it was a performance without much announcement thereof.

a dear, sweet friend sent flowers to me backstage.  talk about making my night!  did i mention that I love roses? 

we laughed some more.

we took the stage, and sang our hearts out.

we sang our hearts out again.

at some point this evening post-rehearsal it came to me that i was actually doing this.

me.

ubicaritas.

yes, me.

i had actually spent the last few days getting the set ready, rehearsingrehearsingrehearsing, and doing various stage activities.

i've been existing mostly on caffeine (whoever created the hazelnut-mocha-extra-shot deserves a Nobel), and regular meals are so three-weeks-ago.

so, there i was, pinning this girl's hair into a half-up.  i had on more makeup than i'd ever worn in my life, i was wearing a turquoisey satin gown, my hair was pinned up into an updo.  i was surrounded by many, MANY women, and this is not a huge room.

all i can think about was how happy i was and am.  for the first time in my life, i'm not looking in.  i am surrounded by wonderful, wonderful, wonderful people.  i am doing what i genuinely love and want to do forever.  i can laugh with those around me.  i can talk and joke and laugh and feel free and accepted and loved.  i can start to be me.  the shell is cracking.

when i went back north for a few days last january, i ran into several high-school classmates.  not one of them recognized me.  last week, i saw a guy i went to school with (not the school i now attend).  he recognized me after we talked for a minute or so, but kept saying "you look...different.  really different."  both of those, i think, are good things. 

the high school classmates?  they always saw a desperately unhappy and bored girl with braces, glasses, and atrocious skin who couldn't talk.  literally, couldn't talk.  i was too afraid.

the former college acquiantance?  he had seen someone who had no idea what she wanted in life except more than she had--someone who had no idea how to dress and who was so tired and unhappy she looked twice her age, to the point where she was frequently assumed to be the mother of one of her classmates.

and then i think about where i am now.  am i perfectly happy with the way i look?  nope.  but i am happier. i don't cringe when i look in the mirror, or walk past it with my eyes closed and my face turned away.  i am...happy.  and joyous.  and my heart is truly full.  and that's what matters.

and i can't even begin to explain this feeling adequately or eloquently.  just know that i am sitting here with a very full heart, and am at peace.

and now to bed, lest this joy and serenity be marred by yet another sleepless night :P

this is a bit more soul-searching than i usually do; i may end up setting it as a 'friends only' post.  for now, i'll leave it as is.

 

 

Bright and early on New Year's Day, several divas assembled for the Red Hot Blackeyed Pea 5K.  It is considered good luck in the South to eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day.  I must confess that by the time I finished the 5K the mere idea of blackeyed peas was enough to make me gag, so I guess I'm not in for as much good luck as I might have been. :P

Two of the divas are serious runners.  One (me) is just starting running.   The fourth walks. 

It was bright and cool, in the mid thirties or so.  Being the warmblooded person that I am, I was devoutly wishing by about half a mile into that I'd left my sweatshirt in my car, as I had to drag it around with me for the rest of the race.  Grr.  Note to self for next time!

I finished, as was my stated goal.  Many thanks to Al, a runner I met along the way.  He started running after he retired four years ago and found it addicting.  He really encouraged me along the second half of the race when I started to get a little down.  We crossed the finish line together with a time of 40:37.  Thanks, Al!

I ran more that day than I usually do during 3 miles, and was quite bushed when I did hit the finish line.  A good part of the tiredness was actually that I did not push myself hard enough, nor did I pay sufficient attention to my breathing.  If I had concentrated on my breathing (ie, making sure that I did breathe and didn't hold my breath, that I breathed rhythmically rather than sporadically, etc) more and, frankly, pushed myself harder (rather than getting discouraged and letting myself walk more than I needed to) I would have finished with a better time.  The sweatshirt REALLY didn't help, as I took it off and then couldn't find a comfortable way to carry it.

The race was along the Trinity Trails, which are really beautiful.  I'd like to go out and run there again soon.  The mileage is not very well marked, however, and I didn't have a watch, so it seemed to last longer than three miles usually takes me.  My usual trail is marked every quarter mile, so I've been a little spoiled!

What did I learn from this race?

-start off the race dressed so that I am cool or even a little cold, because I WILL warm up quickly (I remember this for my usual runs, don't know why I second-guessed for the 5K).  for example, I know that I can run a half mile in a little over five minutes.  ergo, with a watch I would be able to time myself to run 6-8 minutes, walk for 2-3, repeat til end of 5K

-wear a watch, because that way even if the trails aren't marked for miles I'll have an idea how far I've gone/have to go

-focus on breathing.  this is much like singing-body/breath awareness being so important.

-push a little harder; run until I am out of breath, walked 'til I've caught my breath, then run again while still focussing on my breath.  i tend to be good about the breath focus thing the first time i run, and then forget about it after i walk

-at the same time as the above, don't beat up on myself for not finishing in better time, because I am still new at this and "just" finishing is better than not doing this at all.

I was pretty tired after the race.  Went to noon Mass, went home, lay down for a nap.  I was on call for work, which means that I call them at 330-400ish and ask if they need me to be in by 430-500.  I set my alarm for 330 and lay down, as I was falling asleep on my feet.  As I was drifting off, my phone rang.  It was work, and they wanted me there at 330 because "something was going around."  (snort.  It's New Year's Day, ferpetessake.  of COURSE there's something "going around."  I imagine the symptoms were headaches and nausea.  Morons.)  By the time I finally went to bed at 1230 the next morning, I slept REALLY well. 

Oh, and coffee is a truly lovely thing.  Ditto classic Coke.  I try really hard not to drink Coke often; I never drank it growing up (all diet sodas then).  Now I don't drink sodas much anymore (a big cut down from a liter a day or so as a high school student), but once or twice a month I'll have a classic Coke and make my day. :D

And I DID rememeber to take some pics, albeit only a few.  Here they are:

 

 

 

la maestra wants to know why the irritating race announcer will. not. shut. up. 

 

 

darling little dog in a fur-collared sweater.  squee!

 

 

race over.  we are now proud of ourselves and very cold.  la maestra is thinking her new shoes were a mistake, racheldiva is happy, ubicaritas just realized "oh, crap, she's taking a picture of me without my makeup on," and carapiccoladiva is in charge of the camera due to her vast experience with the "self portrait" function.

 

All in all, it was very interesting, rather fun, and something I have every intention of doing again soon.  It has also pushed me to run for longer; I'd been getting a bit lazy and would run a certain distance, then walk and not bother to pick up running again. 

And now off to make a to-do list, as I am leaving tomorrow morning for the northern realms.

...to run (and walk :P) my first 5K with the divas.  I shall attempt to remember my beyooooootiful new digital camera and post pics at that time.  In any case, it should be interesting. 

My goal?  Finish.  ;)   That will be relatively easy because walking five+ miles is for me no problem, and I walk/run 3 miles (a 5K is, if I remember correctly, 3.1 miles) several times a week.  I'm not going for personal records until I can run at least a mile without having to stop and walk.  I have noticed that my half mile time is improving, though; I am now running it in about 5 minutes.

And then, of course, to Mass, as it is the "Feast of the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God."  Quite a mouthful, eh?  Anyhow, I wanted to go to a 7AM and fulfill my obligation that way, but evidently there isn't a single church in Fort Worth with a Mass earlier than 8 AM today, and I was not going to drive out to Dallas.  Any church that usually has a 7 AM has moved it to either 8 AM or 10 AM or noon or 7 PM.  Guess most people stay up so late that they aren't going to get up for church at 7 AM. 

I suppose most people aren't so crazy that they are in bed by 11 or so 'cause they're running/walking a 5K on New Year's Day, when, according to my thermometer, it is THIRTY DEGREES FARENHEIT.  THIRTY.  Did no one get the message that this is Fort Worth, and it simply is not supposed to get this bleeding cold?  (No snotty remarks from northern readers who want to tell me that where they live 30 is a heat wave in January.  They don't have to put up with 105 in the summer, either.)

(drumroll, please)

 

Semester GPA: 3.875.

One B.  ONE.  And it is in a rather difficult theory class (ear training).

16 hours attempted. And passed.  With pretty darn good grades.

(piercing scream of excitement as she dances up and down)

I touched on this in a previous post, but I'll bring it up again.  If ANYONE told me a year ago that I would be majoring in music, be working at a job in a bookstore that I love, be getting a freakin' 3.875 GPA, be surrounded by wonderful, encouraging diva and non-diva friends and, indeed, that I'd consider myself an artist and a diva, I'd have never believed them. 

I tried so hard to do a technical science program (nursing), and was so miserable, and did so badly (how many Ds can one get before considering a change of major? I think I may hold the record!), and yet kept trying to do it because I thought that having a certain job that paid pretty darn well at graduation was the best I could hope for.  It was as though (to quote a rather picturesque friend of mine) I was begging for a pizza, when God was trying to give me Rome.

I walked past the science building the other day, and realized that I never (NEVER!) again have to be up to my elbows in phenol-ed (good grief, that stuff is horrible!  It has a sickly-sweet smell that CLINGS) dead cat.  Nor do I have to be in a group of people being quizzed on the poor dear's organs.  I was usually in the back of the group with my shirtsleeve over my nose and mouth to try to block the smell, and gagging virtually nonstop.  My feelings of "oh that poor sweet kitty, and what the bloody hell do you MEAN I have to cut it open and remove its liver?!!" were...ah...not exactly appreciated by the instructors. :P

I feel like I have Rome.  I'm living the dream I've always had but thought I could never do. 

Oh, I have been so very blessed.  I am so happy, and so grateful. 

And, for the first time in my life, I like who I am and what I am doing with my life and myself.  I am at peace.

I am so happy.  So very, very happy!

(insert happy dance here)

And I had to post all of this to try to explain how happy I am and why.

Just had to post about the incredible party I went to last Friday.  La Maestra hosted a mob of divas, divos, music afficionados and various other fun people at a caroling party.  There were, as the title states, many carols, much food, dozens of divas, and the gabbing had to be heard to be believed.  In short, an excellent time was had by all--in this diva's case, 'til a bit past three in the morning.  What can I say?  Post-cleanup (a side note: only this bunch could still look extremely diva-istic while up to their elbows in soapsuds, dishcloths and plasticware), which involved yoga posing, wine and hugs, we were sufficiently peckish to haul out some excellent cheese and proceeded to munch and talk for another couple of hours.  Then the trip home (amazing how much faster one can go on certain roads when there is NO TRAFFIC), a quick call-in to Diva Central ("yes, I'm alive and home, goodnight"), and the collapse into bed, from which I did not emerge until noon.

I feel so very blessed, and so very loved, and so very full of love for these wonderful people around me.  I've never been this happy.  I am surrounded by wonderful people who I care about and who care about me, and we all love great music and help to make it-and what more could one want?

signed,

the deliriously happy diva, who now must run to work to become, in the recent words of the head cashier who knew NOTHING of how the word diva is used at my school, the "cashwrap diva"

Oh, there was music.  Lots and lots of music.  Lots of gorgeous voices (including the AMAZING carapiccoladiva, who I fully expect to hear at the Met in five years), a stunningly played cello, several very talented pianists and some truly gifted teachers all came together to make an evening of beauty, and accomplished just that.  From the first notes (glorious) to the last (knock-em-dead), it was all so much more than good.  Pics are posted (or will be) over at carapiccoladiva's blog; I'll probably steal a couple of them and put them here. (note to self: get digital camera!)

For me personally, it was a fantastic night.  I did the deep breathing/relaxation routine that La Maestra recommended for before performances (amazing how well things go when you follow directions).  I practiced like a madwoman for the last several weeks; in fact, I had a friend listen to me rehearse in the recital hall earlier today so that she could let us know how the sound balanced out. Finally, I walked out there feeling very diva, took over the stage, and just put myself into the part.  Incidentally, the song was I Remember, from Sondheim's Evening Primrose.  A little sad/regretful with mild touches of hysteria now and again as the character is flooded by memories.  I really enjoyed doing it, feel good about the performance, and was told that I did well.  I did have a little nervousness occasionally, but it was not the overwhelming terror I've felt on previous occasions.

However, a side note.  Remember these shoes, and how I raved about them?

 

 

Everything I said about them beingg darling, precious, adorable et all?  That goes double.  Everything I said abotu how comfortable they'd be due to the padded insoles?  Scratch that.  These shoes are beautiful, but deadly.  My feet are not amused.