So it’s tomorrow again. I am feeling ill and wretched today, mainly because I don’t have my singing voice and this always upsets me. It’s okay, though. Hopefully having a sore throat this week means I won’t have one next week.
The Iolanthe rehearsal last night was everything that the one the night before wasn’t. It was a huge relief for everyone. There’s still a lot to do, but now I’ve got some faith that come Monday everything will be fixed and, just maybe, perfect. Tonight we’re having our first sing-through with orchestral accompaniment: we’ve been rehearsing with just the keyboard reduction before now. This is slowly getting serious.
Anyway. I’ve a nightmarish essay to write for 5pm tomorrow and so far I haven’t written a word. I have half an hour now and then I’m busy until roughly 11. It could be a long evening, but we’ll see. I am in the good place of having enough discomfort to not care less about essay’s dire urgency while having enough life left in me to enjoy the challenge essay will doubtless be. I’ll let you know how that goes.
Today I am the proud owner of the first pair of ballet pumps I’ve had since I was 8. They are a shiny pale pink and they epitomise almost everything I hate about girlish femininity, perhaps because I never had any. Trying them on, though, I can’t help but love them. They are luminous and elegant and they make me feel hopeful for the first time all evening. Tonight’s rehearsal was horrible and depressing and it feels like we did everything wrong (even though we didn’t), especially me (even though it wasn’t especially). But these shoes sit glowing on my floor, balletic and pretty, and they speak of something to aspire to.
Tonight, just tonight, I’m indulging in a bit of self-pity. Tomorrow I’m going to learn my songs and my dances and I’m going to fix all my mistakes. Tomorrow I’ll be a fairy down to the feet.
Lols, so I realise my recent entries here have been rather more poetic and uninformative than ever before. But it’s not that I’m getting up to a lot of other exciting things that aren’t being narrated, it’s more that life is going on as usual – happy, contented, wonderful life – and there is a new side of me that’s coming out from time to time, germinating here and there, and I find myself wanting to catalogue those moments. There’s some people and some things inspiring me in ways I’ve never really felt before, and I guess I’m looking for channels I’ve never needed to express these thoughts I’ve never had.
Can you save yourself from dying in a plummeting elevator by jumping at precisely the right time? How could you know the right time? Or how could you not, if that knowledge meant everything? Music like snakes. Ladders. Ivy.
Lou and I saw one of our old teachers today, which was actually lovely. We took some of his GCSE students for a tour around my college and tried in vain to explain the lives we lead here. One of them asked me if I had a social life. and oh wow, I thought, you can give them all the facts in the world, but you can’t tell them the way it feels; the extremity, the strangeness and the absolute normalcy of life here. I used to think I wasn’t so different, but now I am a twenty-year-old and independent and comfortable being so, and I’ve no chance of remembering what I was and how I felt at fourteen.
Anyway. It’s late already but I’m not so sleepy, so I shall somehow try to reconcile those and maybe read some Achilles Tatius in the meantime. I’ve too many thoughts.