On the plus side, I can talk again. Sort of. On the less-plus side, the crazy is back, and it is not in a good mood.
This is not the good kind of crazy. I like those days. They're full of energy and creativity. I feel like I could stay up for days (and sometimes I do). The ideas come so fast that I have to type instead of write by hand, and eventually I have to give up on that and dictate to my computer. Manic times are magnificent.
Today is the bad kind of crazy. Unfortunately my life is basically a really wonky sine curve, and every day of Good Crazy must be paid for in days of Bad Crazy. Also unfortunately, they don't correlate in any kind of logical pattern. Manic day(s)/week(s) are sort of predictable, but depressed days/weeks/months are not. The one nice thing is that there is a kind of slope--the first two or three days get in the way of my life but they're not debilitating--if I have to talk to people I can do it without bursting into tears as the slightest provocation. It gives me a little bit of time to get things in order so that I can spend the next week or so hiding in my closet and not speaking to anyone without seriously interfering with school or work or whatever.
The piano has been helping a lot this time around--this hit me yesterday and I'm still mostly functional after spending three or four hours at the piano playing the same Clementi sonatinas over and over again. I think that I'll make it through the end of finals. I certainly hope so.
Still, it's been pretty bad so far. I spent most of today being unable to form coherent sentences--no subjects, and very little in the way of verbs. I'm having a few good hours right now so I hope that this grammar is acceptable...
Among my friends, we joke about "The Crazy" a lot, and I want to preface the next sentence with the fact that I certainly don't think that should stop. I make plenty of jokes about it myself. But, I also have to deal with it every day. Even during the normal, "0 on the y-axis" times I am constantly aware that it may not last very long, that pretty soon I will start spiraling in one direction or the other, that pretty soon The Crazy and I will be struggling for power.
During manic times I always think that whatever the crash brings, it's totally worth it. Manic times are fantastic, wonderful places. On days like today, and for the next few weeks--maybe this time it will be a few days, maybe a month--I just have to keep repeating to myself: It's worth it, it's worth it, it's worth it...
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Silence Day 3-4, Steve the TA of Ontological Queries Makes My Career
This is not fun. This is not fun, it is annoying, and it really, really sucks.
Also, attending rehearsals in which one is incapable of singing is sort of pointless. Just saying.
I've cheated quite it bit. I'm not even supposed to whisper, but Google told me that there's a difference between a voiced and unvoiced whisper, and unvoiced is okay provided you don't overdo it. Hey, there are some times when I have to talk. Like to the nice guy who does transcripts in the records office--I'll need him later, and I don't want him putting my stuff in the bottom of the pile because he interpreted silence as rudeness. That sort of thing. I still catch myself talking to myself out loud, as well. Unvoiced-whispering-out-loud, but still, I talk to myself a lot, it adds up.
So now I'm at work at the library, which one might think is the best place in the world to work with laryngitis. Sadly no, because engineers, despite being socially awkward people as a group, still demand that you talk to them. But Artsy Sarcastic Librarian made me magic tea, so that's cool. I'm going to be stuck at the North Desk by myself for quite some time, which usually sucks in December, so after it gets dark we'll see how that goes.
--------
As previously stated, Steve the TA of Ontological Queries is not teaching the second half of music history next semester. This is very sad. I may crash the freshman music appreciation class a few times to say hi. He said something in passing, though, which has probably made my career. (I definitely would have run across him eventually, but this just bumped it up a few months.) Richard Taruskin. This dude is amazing. He's the sole author of the 2005 Oxford History of Music. It has six volumes. He also came out with three other books(!) while he was writing the History. Steve said that "he is a genius in the truest sense of the word." I read a little of his work. Steve's not kidding.
What caught my attention was something Steve quoted from Taruskin about the orchestra being a "microcosm of society." This is exactly what I've been working on--well, not exactly. Vocal instead of instrumental, but it's basically the same. It jump-started my brain in that direction again, so I'm working on a companion piece to "Soloist as Stranger," (which goes in for publication review in a few weeks, yay) based off the passage in the History that I found that quote in. So thank you, Steve.
Now all I have to do is be able to say that out loud...
Also, attending rehearsals in which one is incapable of singing is sort of pointless. Just saying.
I've cheated quite it bit. I'm not even supposed to whisper, but Google told me that there's a difference between a voiced and unvoiced whisper, and unvoiced is okay provided you don't overdo it. Hey, there are some times when I have to talk. Like to the nice guy who does transcripts in the records office--I'll need him later, and I don't want him putting my stuff in the bottom of the pile because he interpreted silence as rudeness. That sort of thing. I still catch myself talking to myself out loud, as well. Unvoiced-whispering-out-loud, but still, I talk to myself a lot, it adds up.
So now I'm at work at the library, which one might think is the best place in the world to work with laryngitis. Sadly no, because engineers, despite being socially awkward people as a group, still demand that you talk to them. But Artsy Sarcastic Librarian made me magic tea, so that's cool. I'm going to be stuck at the North Desk by myself for quite some time, which usually sucks in December, so after it gets dark we'll see how that goes.
--------
As previously stated, Steve the TA of Ontological Queries is not teaching the second half of music history next semester. This is very sad. I may crash the freshman music appreciation class a few times to say hi. He said something in passing, though, which has probably made my career. (I definitely would have run across him eventually, but this just bumped it up a few months.) Richard Taruskin. This dude is amazing. He's the sole author of the 2005 Oxford History of Music. It has six volumes. He also came out with three other books(!) while he was writing the History. Steve said that "he is a genius in the truest sense of the word." I read a little of his work. Steve's not kidding.
What caught my attention was something Steve quoted from Taruskin about the orchestra being a "microcosm of society." This is exactly what I've been working on--well, not exactly. Vocal instead of instrumental, but it's basically the same. It jump-started my brain in that direction again, so I'm working on a companion piece to "Soloist as Stranger," (which goes in for publication review in a few weeks, yay) based off the passage in the History that I found that quote in. So thank you, Steve.
Now all I have to do is be able to say that out loud...
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Silence Day 2
This is not fun. Technically I cheated and did some talking today, but it was very necessary talking. Dr. Stoltzfus is going on sabbatical next semester, so we just had our last concert with him and I will have graduated by the time he gets back. Saying goodbye counts as necessary. I still lip-synced most of the carol concert today, though. Everything except the Chorale pieces and our little section of the Pinkham.
But then I had dinner with Roomate and Friend Since Preschool, and didn't say anything the entire time. Wrote a lot, though. I think that the waitress thought for a minute that I was refusing to speak to her because I didn't like her or something, but she was really nice about everything. Roommate says that since I can't talk I've been doing way-over-the-top facial expressions to compensate. This feels true, but of course I can't see my own face.
After my little scare yesterday I did a few tests to see if I could figure out a way to make noise just in case. It turns out that I can sing really, really low in my range, so if I really, really have to say something I start with a humming noise and just sort of make words over the top of that. Unfortunately, even that doesn't work all of the time and I can only do about half of English consonant sounds. This is going to be the longest two weeks of my life.
But then I had dinner with Roomate and Friend Since Preschool, and didn't say anything the entire time. Wrote a lot, though. I think that the waitress thought for a minute that I was refusing to speak to her because I didn't like her or something, but she was really nice about everything. Roommate says that since I can't talk I've been doing way-over-the-top facial expressions to compensate. This feels true, but of course I can't see my own face.
After my little scare yesterday I did a few tests to see if I could figure out a way to make noise just in case. It turns out that I can sing really, really low in my range, so if I really, really have to say something I start with a humming noise and just sort of make words over the top of that. Unfortunately, even that doesn't work all of the time and I can only do about half of English consonant sounds. This is going to be the longest two weeks of my life.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Silence Part I
Music has killed my life for at least the next two weeks. Haydn is basically Soprano Show-Off Time, which is awesome, but after singing the Creation every day for a minimum of two hours this week, not to mention everything we've done this past semester, my voice has decided to rebel, and express its displeasure by simply not functioning. That's right, I literally can't talk. At all.
This is incredibly frustrating. Well, that's putting it mildly: I have been quiet for less than twenty-four hours and I'm already prepared to kill things. There are too many things in my head, and I am accustomed to getting them out via speech. Which seems kind of weird to those who remember when I was a kid--I really didn't talk much. Then I hit sophomore or maybe junior year of high school and all of a sudden there were WORDS. So many words. As it is, my voice can't keep up with my brain, and I type
SEAN GIVE ME BACK THE MAD COW CELL
slower than I speak, obviously (although really 85+ wpm isn't bad), and writing by hand takes even longer. As it is I already have several pages full of "my side of the conversation." I never realized exactly how much I talk until now. Apparently I also hold all of my conversations with myself out loud, because today when I was "talking to myself" I had to consciously remind myself to keep it in my head and not even try to talk.
I actually had a bit of a scary moment today. The whole not-talking thing technically started yesterday, but I thought that all I needed was a bit of rest after a long and quite grueling rehearsal and I'd sound okay in the morning. The Wise Man once told me when I was a bit nervous about singing in front of people "Never be afraid that you'll open your mouth and something un-lovely will come out." Well, today I opened my mouth--just to talk, not even to sing--and nothing happened. I got to thinking what would have happened if that had been some kind of emergency, or if it had happened in front of people. Being female and average-sized, I usually have to talk my way out of trouble (although I readily acknowledge that I talk myself in to trouble much, much more often). I rely on my intellect and my ability to express it to get what I want, especially since I'm so much younger than the people I work with (which is a separate post on it's own). There was this one episode of Doctor Who during David Tennant's tenure called "Midnight." It felt like that. I don't like it. I really, really don't like it. It's sort of terrifying.
Seriously, I would love to curl up in my closet and cry a little about it, but crying out loud is bad for your vocal cords.
The extra-sucks part about this is that I just sang a huge concert today, I have another one tomorrow, and four more rehearsals and a friend's doctoral recital in the next week. And yet I'm supposed to be on complete vocal rest. This means no talking. Technically it means no singing as well, and I may just sing tomorrow's gig and then not sing the recital. I don't know. But I can't talk for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. My roommate is already enjoying this way too much, and no one around me speaks my version of really shit sign language (i.e. the one person who does know sign knows way more than me, and Roommate doesn't know any). I still have tons of class and work and exams to do before the end of the semester, grad school applications to finish, setting-up-for-next-semester details to be taken are of. Many of which require the ability to speak. So expect many more rants on the subject. Or cathartic getting-out-of-thoughts-which-I-cannot-say-aloud-but-fortunately-the-Internet-doesn't-have-that-problem.
Okay, Sean's smacking the computer with a fuzzy salmonella molecule, so I'm going to interpret that as "get off the web and pay attention to me." He says, "also this post is long enough." Just for that, I ought to write a couple more paragraphs, but I'm trying a new thing where I don't spite people just because I can. jk.
--C.
[Side note: the little part in caps was a "my side of the conversation thing." Shino has this set of fluffy molecules, and I had the mad cow one on my head. Sean took it away. It's back on my head now. I took out the other random bits of conversation, since they were even less relevant.
This is incredibly frustrating. Well, that's putting it mildly: I have been quiet for less than twenty-four hours and I'm already prepared to kill things. There are too many things in my head, and I am accustomed to getting them out via speech. Which seems kind of weird to those who remember when I was a kid--I really didn't talk much. Then I hit sophomore or maybe junior year of high school and all of a sudden there were WORDS. So many words. As it is, my voice can't keep up with my brain, and I type
SEAN GIVE ME BACK THE MAD COW CELL
slower than I speak, obviously (although really 85+ wpm isn't bad), and writing by hand takes even longer. As it is I already have several pages full of "my side of the conversation." I never realized exactly how much I talk until now. Apparently I also hold all of my conversations with myself out loud, because today when I was "talking to myself" I had to consciously remind myself to keep it in my head and not even try to talk.
I actually had a bit of a scary moment today. The whole not-talking thing technically started yesterday, but I thought that all I needed was a bit of rest after a long and quite grueling rehearsal and I'd sound okay in the morning. The Wise Man once told me when I was a bit nervous about singing in front of people "Never be afraid that you'll open your mouth and something un-lovely will come out." Well, today I opened my mouth--just to talk, not even to sing--and nothing happened. I got to thinking what would have happened if that had been some kind of emergency, or if it had happened in front of people. Being female and average-sized, I usually have to talk my way out of trouble (although I readily acknowledge that I talk myself in to trouble much, much more often). I rely on my intellect and my ability to express it to get what I want, especially since I'm so much younger than the people I work with (which is a separate post on it's own). There was this one episode of Doctor Who during David Tennant's tenure called "Midnight." It felt like that. I don't like it. I really, really don't like it. It's sort of terrifying.
Seriously, I would love to curl up in my closet and cry a little about it, but crying out loud is bad for your vocal cords.
The extra-sucks part about this is that I just sang a huge concert today, I have another one tomorrow, and four more rehearsals and a friend's doctoral recital in the next week. And yet I'm supposed to be on complete vocal rest. This means no talking. Technically it means no singing as well, and I may just sing tomorrow's gig and then not sing the recital. I don't know. But I can't talk for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. My roommate is already enjoying this way too much, and no one around me speaks my version of really shit sign language (i.e. the one person who does know sign knows way more than me, and Roommate doesn't know any). I still have tons of class and work and exams to do before the end of the semester, grad school applications to finish, setting-up-for-next-semester details to be taken are of. Many of which require the ability to speak. So expect many more rants on the subject. Or cathartic getting-out-of-thoughts-which-I-cannot-say-aloud-but-fortunately-the-Internet-doesn't-have-that-problem.
Okay, Sean's smacking the computer with a fuzzy salmonella molecule, so I'm going to interpret that as "get off the web and pay attention to me." He says, "also this post is long enough." Just for that, I ought to write a couple more paragraphs, but I'm trying a new thing where I don't spite people just because I can. jk.
--C.
[Side note: the little part in caps was a "my side of the conversation thing." Shino has this set of fluffy molecules, and I had the mad cow one on my head. Sean took it away. It's back on my head now. I took out the other random bits of conversation, since they were even less relevant.
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