Under the Sea!

[jaala]

I had my final ear training test of the year this morning (yesterday) at 8:30--after not being able to sleep until 3am because I was coughing. I was able to get up, with the help of a handy can of cola purchased especially for the occasion. The test went okay, I guess. We've learned two different systems for labelling seventh chords, and it's confused me.

Following breakfast, I decided that the best thing for my performance at Dora's composition recital this afternoon would be more rest. So I went home and slept until 1:10. (I was supposed to wake up much earlier, but must have hit the snooze button at least ten times.) Exciting, eh?

I got up in time to phone Imogen to tell her I couldn't meet for a tutoring session, which she had, naturally, already figured out. I nearly finished my shower in time for Music History at 2:30, and then somehow managed to barely make it to the Conservatory ten minutes ahead of the 4:00 recital.

The recital itself went fairly well, I think. It was my first "formal" appearance on the auditorium stage (not including The Sound of Pirates, of course), so I was nervous and awkward when it came to bowing, proceeding onto the stage, etc. I actually played the flute--a shock, I know!--and only made two mistakes, from which I managed to recover. While playing the incredibly simple piano part in a minimalist piece, I showed my inexperience with grand pianos painfully obviously. I was used to having my music slide downward while playing (on an upright), so I put the stand up too high; and not one, but two pieces of paper managed to drift off (the first into my lap) while I played and tried to turn pages. The singer and chanter showed remarkable creativity during the performance, skipping beats with a flair surpassing even the first read-through. Attempting to follow/catch up/back up while playing repeated two measure phrases without disrupting the music was...an interesting experience.

Afterwards, I tagged along to the music graduate's banquet. There I ate, drank (lemonade), and made merry while I tried to understand a plethora of inside jokes. (Actually, it scared me how many I knew.) Then, I came home, had a semi-nap for a few hours with my head resting on the back of my desk chair, coughed for about an hour straight, and attempted work on my "verbal term paper".

* * *

Yesterday had some slightly interesting happenings as well. I woke up miserably sick and unable to talk for more than a minute; so I decided that I ought to visit my Music History professor in order to re-schedule the aforementioned ("term paper") presentation. Arriving at the Conservatory, just as theory class was ending, I noticed writing in coloured chalk on the driveway:

Under the Sea!
Grad Shaft 2002

The glass doors were covered in with garbage bags; I figured there was some sort of construction happening. It's happened before.

Completely clueless about this "Grad Shaft" thing, I entered. "Under the Sea" emanated from a nearby piano, and a herd of fourth year students in bathing suits, Hawaiian shirts, and leis greeted me with a hearty (and somewhat sadistic), "JAALA!" I must have given them the most pitiful look possible as I wailed (falsetto), "I've got a cold! I came to see Dr. V****!" In my stunned state, it took me about a minute to realize that they would use their water guns if I did not use the hula hoop being held out to me. (Conveniently enough, the entire theory class had come downstairs to watch.) So I did, they cheered me for being a good sport, and I was allowed to go my way through the mass of blue and white streamers. (I understood later that I escaped the dousing most people got.)

I realized later (after my meeting, and feeling a tad better) what a marvellous job they'd done with the decorations. The basement was The Bermuda Triangle (complete with yellow police tape, treasure chest, human skull, and misguided signs); blue ballons bobbed on a cling wrap sea hanging from the upstairs railing; there was a mural depicting the music professors and staff on a beach (with catch phrases for each); beach ball octopi abounded; and best of all, music stands had been dressed up to look like palm trees. Such a pity it was all dismantled by noon.

Other notable events were a brief harmony/theory "lab" with the professor, during which she was kind enough to fill me in on the specifications of the exam. There was a band rehearsal to record a march for some friend of the director's. (Ironic that the ensemble I dislike most intensely had the longest rehearsal period.)

Then came the music student gong show. I had intended not to perform at all, but actually ended up performing twice. I had practiced "Hava Nagila" on the accordion about twenty minutes before start time, but hey, some people got performing groups together on the spot. I did pretty well with "Hava Nagila" until the audience (led by the judges) starting clapping and singing along. I still lasted about 30 seconds, which was comparatively pretty good. Later, I got up to play "Merrily We Roll Along" and assorted trills and slides on my flute headjoint (using a finger as "slide"), which they seemed to find amusing. The winners (1.5 minutes, I think) posed as "modern art, revived" (following an earlier hit act), with a tree, a rock, and a stream (lying on the floor and wiggling).

I was one of about six people who got together afterwards to watch the Sound of Pirates video. It was so much fun we wished that the first act had been videotaped. (Technical oversight--so much for my dancing.) Inability to make out facial expressions was detrimental to most performances, but I was surprised to note that my "wench" persona had pretty good body language. As before at the cast party, several Pit people expressed their determination to be in the cast of the main show next year, and as before all of the bad sentiments regarding Pit duty depressed me. (I understand the urge--I feel it myself--but how can the orchestra's quality go anywhere but down if all these people want to quit? Why do people always feel they have to make the orchestra's job even more unglamourous by dumping on it?)

* * *

I've said it before, and I'll say it again as the fear becomes more present every day. I don't know how I'll handle leaving my fourth-year friends, especially Imogen. Or how I'll say goodbye; perhaps, as Mum suggested once, something along the lines of, "I love you. Will you marry me?"