August 4/5000 words
I'm calling it done. I wrung the last 5K out of myself for the past four days, and the Write-a-thon is officially over and a success at 18K. If you sponsored me, please send the donation to Clarion West via check, cash, or Paypal. If you'd like to sponsor me now, please do! Even $5 is welcome.
As usual, I'm thinking about all I did wrong during this time--like that ten-day break in the middle with not much on the writing front? Yeah, that was--well, difficult--to recover from, let me say. Yes, I could be the poster child for what not to do in many areas of my life. And most of them revolve about sabotaging myself so I have to pull it out at the very end.
Pressure works for me, but in retrospect, maybe not quite this much would work better.
And because I had a cup of coffee, I was allowed to try multiplication (but not division. That requires two cups of coffee.) and a measly 300 words a day for a year results in 109,000 words total.
I can do 300 words a day. The vast majority of the time, and even when words suck and you have to apply that vacuum to the brain to get them out? I can still get 300.
So for the rest of this month, that's my new goal. Three hundred a day, which shouldn't be too taxing even including after-school exhaustion and insanity.
So yeah. I'm insane, but we know it, and I'm just trying to pattern daily writing into my life instead of leaving it all for random chunks of time when it smacks me upside the head.
I have to jump on the Ideo issue this week, and see how much I can accomplish before school starts. My recital rears its ugly head, for there's a run-through tonight and then the actual recital on Sunday. There's the mass I'm singing for on Thursday night at the cathedral under the direction of Jim Drollinger for the NPM (well, the M stands for music, I think the P is for Pastoral, but figuring out the acronym took low priority, because hey! novel!) and I start, unofficially, back to school today. My first official day is a week from now.
And if that wasn't enough two out of three kids plus one dog and one driver friend showed up on my doorstep this weekend.
And then they all vanished yesterday afternoon without much fanfare, with the entryway remarkably clear again! (While they were here, you had to climb over and through the sleeping bags and backpacks and other hiking gear.)
Which means that Slug (belying her name) caught the train with her crew and is on the way to Philmont Scout Camp for a little R&R: a ten-day backpacking trip at elevation covering 80 miles.
Her take on it? "I am so getting my butt kicked."
Her first class begins the evening of the day she returns.
Isn't that great planning?
Finally, the middle child has acquired his own dog--a rescue Dachshund mix who's been christened Baxter.
Our first mistake was when we rejected pet requests with the response: "When you're all grown up, you can have one of your own."
See, it should have been: When you're all grown up AND OUT OF MY HOUSE....
I suffer in order to educate others.
August 5/300 words
I never consciously set out to embarrass myself--but I manage the task quite nicely. Last night's practice for the recital was a prime example of how to do that with a flourish.
All week, I've been pulling stuff together when I practiced--my air pressure, keeping the soft palate lifted, thinking the sound forward. I've practiced every minute I have, which is mostly in the car. It's gotten so I start the engine and need to begin singing in the same moment.
So I get to my teacher's house and I'm late. Someone is already singing, and my god what a glorious voice she has. I take a seat once she's finished and I am in a room filled with teens, for the most part. And they all perform beautifully, show tunes mostly, which is where majority have their expertise.
I end up next to last, which is fine and I get up to sing mine: "The Man That Got Away" from A Star is Born. Think Judy Garland.
Yeah, no pressure.
But I'm satisfied with how I've begun, low notes all, and comfortable for me, and I'm fairly certain I'm doing everything right in terms of juggling the air pressure and the rest of the technical stuff and actually performing--at least letting it show on my face. Then the nerves hit.
I hit the first high note. Fail. Major fail. And every subsequent high note after that. Notes I'd been hitting without a problem in practice with or without my teacher. It makes no sense. And since this is performance--you don't stop. You just jump right back in when you can and continue.
Okay, so I make it to the end, and I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong.
And Paul ends the piano accompaniment and blurts, "You forgot to breathe!"
Oh. Was that it?
Suggestions: Someone wrote "Breathe in" on their palm before every performance. My favorite was from the woman who sang an aria from I'l Trovatore--she forgets and when she hears Paul breathing behind her loudly (well, without snoring or snorting) she breathes with him. I'm wondering if I can get him to play and act as coxswain: breathe! breathe! breathe!
But still, supreme moment of epic fail in the public eye, although the public numbered fewer than twenty.
Still, it wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be--it's a performance, you go on. There will be others. But I'm going to have to block that moment from my brain for the recital on Sunday and not dwell on it, as I am prone to do.
Meanwhile, I'm practicing on gasping between phrases, hoping that muscle memory will keep me afloat on the notes, letting the performance piece of singing hang (because I can't stand watching myself in the mirror as I practice, although I've learned to stare over my head and catch glimpses of body movements.)
I feel like such a pretender. These kids are amazing. Amazing! With potential careers in musical theater and beyond. And then there's me, who's just finally learned keep everything open. After two and a half years of voice deconstruction and reconstruction so that I am singing correctly.
But if nothing else, I'm going to thoroughly enjoy hearing everyone else sing.
And hopefully, I'll remember to breathe.
Oh, and in terms of writing... Day 1: 300 words. I'm going to attempt to make writing a priority before school. (Which may mean a 5:30A wakeup, but hey. I won't have to argue with myself later.)
August 7/300 words
Oh, it's a jolly holiday in SoCal... no, it's not. And suddenly I wish I were in Denver playing with other writers than dealing with my classroom. *signs up for Bittercon*
One more day spent in the classroom crossing things off my list. The first stop is the post office to mail my welcome postcards to my incoming kinders. They'll, hopefully, all show up on Monday night, so I can parse out bus stops and emergency phone numbers for the first day. After that it's about clearing tables and storing all the new stuff I bought (don't ask how much of my income gets plowed back into my classroom. Let's just say that when I stopped quilting, all that money reverted to school. And the Spousling and I had many discussions about how much money I spent on that little hobby. Writing is the lesser expense by far. Really.
Okay, except for my current lust for a MacAir. Minor details.
So yeah, lots to do, although I've finished the bulletin boards, laminated the entire room charts, homework folders, and whatnot--48' of lamination, so don't mess with me! It's a short trip to Lakeshore!
In one of the stupidest ways for a school district to save money--yes! Tell people they can't buy the laminating film because we're trimming one million (dollars, of course) from our district budget. Let's see... one $30 roll of film times ? will equal one person's salary?
In the end, when schools pinch pennies, the people who suffer the most are typically the teachers, and, including the obvious trickle down effect, the kids.
*whining ends*
I dash home to change at 3P, dress for the mass tonight, and we hop in the car to drive into LA. The cathedral is pretty darn amazing, although it has very little in common with my default image of cathedral with rose windows and peaks, since it's quite modern. They do share soaring space, however, which is a lovely feeling when you're indoors.
I practiced, practiced, practiced all of yesterday, unless someone walked into my classroom--which the custodian did, mind you. Eesh. Good thing I have only a few (major!) qualms about exposing my singing to innocent bystanders and a strong acceptance of my foolishness when I'm caught.
Today, it's my three hundred words, first, however. Making myself open the laptop every morning is working well right now. I have no idea how much I'll have to work on forcing myself to open the darn thing come Monday morning. I'm happy I started this week.
Finally, another child returns home this weekend. The engaged boy. With new puppy, most likely. Whereupon Harley will feel the need to impress on Baxter his overall topdogness, and the dominance wars will begin.
Thankfully the child will only be here overnight.
And the second all these dogs vanish with their children, I'm getting a cat.
