I'm not supposed to be a happy person, I don't think. When I'm happy, I'm ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED that an anvil is lurking around the corner, suspended on fraying rope from a rusty crane suffering from metal fatigue. All it takes is my heavy footsteps and twink! Smush.
Things are going well this week. I often feel as though my singing is largely ignored (as I think many singers do, with so many auditions and so few roles), but I can't really feel that way right now. It's a relief, and a shock. I get convinced that I'm screaming into the ether, so when someone says they're listening, it's almost as though I have a peeping Tom, someone who's watching me when I don't notice. Wait, you were where? You heard me when? Oh yeah! At that audition. Funny!
On an amusing side note, while I was on a field trip this morning, the Met called my work number as that's the only number they have for trying to force me to buy a subscription even though I live across the country since I made the mistake of giving that number when I bought tickets once. My co-worker took the call and emailed me the message, "The Met called. Is this something I can know about?" The answer would be, "Oh yes, my $20 will go a long way to ensuring the future of the Saturday broadcasts." And I get a free CD.