I hate the dentist

Went to the gym first thing in the morning. 45 minutes in, I'm feeling better but not as strong as I did before. This is when I know it's really time. I'll feel the ache tomorrow, but I'll feel stronger every day that I continue to do this. The twelves in my hands will become fifteens again, as they were just before the race. My back won't ache, my legs will be ready to run. This is the plan.

Now on to the weakness. I hate the dentist. I hate needles. I hate the sensation of the grinding and it makes me twitch all the way down to my toes. I twitched for a very very long time until it was over. Three fillings, done. Then, a very successful (and unplanned) trip to the consignment shop.

Teaching today. Hope the numbing in the mouth goes away before I have to teach, or there will be some very funny singing going on.

The ugly truth

I looked at my training log today. Since the BAA Half, I've gone running twice. Three times if you count the catastrophe that was my afternoon run today. Here's the business end of it - if you don't keep your body in shape, it will hate you when you try to do things you did when you were actually in shape. I think it was cutting me slack when Robin and I went running the other evening. First time running in central park, with a friend, auditions were all stressful, I think perhaps my body was just distracted and enthusiastic enough to let me do five miles with minimal issues. But today it was just NOT going to happen. Yesterday was a really shit day with the late bus and the train and the dropped half sandwich and no umbrella, but after I sleep normally tonight and get up tomorrow and go to the gym, it's back on the horse. November will be a stressful month anyway, I need to do everything in my power to make sure I'm in top form. The right dress, the right shoes, and the right rep are simply not enough. I need to be physically, mentally, and emotionally in the game.

And this is the part where I solicit help/encouragement/harassment from the general reading public.

If I run, I will blog it. If I don't run or work out or take Sam for a four-mile walk and I don't have a really good reason (i.e. I was on an airplane all day) I want you to get on me about it. Tell me to get up off my shit. You know I'd do the same for you :)

Signs

Like that song Tesla remade - "Signs, signs, everywhere are signs." Just when I feel I've read one correctly, I get whacked on the head in the opposite direction by the fickle friend called Providence. Here's the hamster wheel breakdown since Saturday.

Saturday - drive to RI, show up 65 mins early with hopes of singing competition early and getting home before nasty storm. They are running early, and I'm told there are two people ahead of me. An hour later, they are now running late. Warm up AGAIN, sweat into my beautiful silk dress because of the heating system (plus 65 degrees outside, ridiculous), sing one aria, HEAR them talk about how they're running late and really don't have time to hear another. Ugh. And a large tree bug fell down my back. Removed tree bug from self without much hysteria, still sang well. On the way back to the interstate, had a freak fashion encounter with a store window displaying the most perfect mallard blue wrap dress. Hold the phone, because they have it in eggplant too. What's that, the last two in the store? Yes, I'll take them both.

Score: shiksa - 1, hamster wheel - 1 (because of the tree bug and the disorganization)

Sunday - sing two services, teach voice lesson, apply makeup in church bathroom, go to subway. This has never happened to me - I wait for the train, and THREE D trains go by before a single B train. Then we stand by just before BU central. Then I go to the wrong building (dear young artist administrator - when you say 'center for fine arts,' that's not the same as the opera center. Figure your shit out before you send out emails and all of your singers show up panting because they have run from the other building, where there is NO ROOM 210!) for my audition, hoof it to the right building, just as they are saying, "oh great, you're next." Oh great. I'm next. Pull off coat, put on shoes, just as the door is opening. Sure. I'll start with Queen of the Night. Why not. Maybe there's a little defiance in my delivery, but I'm working it (in my eggplant dress). Husby comes with the car, get to south station and manage to standby for an earlier bus. Arrive in NYC three hours earlier than originally planned, eat eggplant on the way.

Score: shiksa - 3 (for the early bus and nailing the Queen despite circumstances), hamster wheel - 2 (for the wrong building)

Monday - up early-ish to prepare for Italian coaching. Panic and get on the bus ridiculously early. Find out this is a blessing as cannot seem to find the entrance to the Juilliard school. Find room same time coach shows up. My Italian does not suck as bad as I think it does. Great. Lovely lovely lunch with wonderful friend, get dressed while singing Funny Girl, walk up the street and audition for the Germans from major house, tempo on Fire not great but Queen nailed it again. Purple dress luck. Feeling good. More Scharffen Berger chocolate, yum. Coffee with girlfriend, quiet evening with little sister. Monkey wrench - no place to stay for month of January during gig in NYC. Oh shite.

Score: shiksa - 4, hamster wheel - 4 (for the subway going express between 96th and 137th and housing catastrophe)

Tuesday - raining. Gross. Make it to audition, pianist is there, all set and ready. Sing both Handel and kick ass, great feedback and then lunch with wonderful friend. Coaching on upper west for upcoming role. This is where it gets wonky. I'm covering, but everything this guy says amounts to how much he thinks of my singing. How I'm a world-class Queen. How I need to find someone to help me work Konstanze into my rep because I would OWN her. How he loves my musicality. Head spinning. Must find a way to make this work. Thinking far too much for my own good. Contemplating going straight into academia. Contemplating going into working at Bloomingdales at the Shu Uemura lash bar. Make it stop! And then, I show up at the NY sports club, where none other than my fellow blogger the VeganDiva is there to take my bag and help me kick my own ass as we run through Central Park. Five miles later, I have clarity. Oh praise the Lord with the timbrel and dance, FINALLY I have clarity.

score: shiksa - 7 (for killer audition, rocking my coaching, and making 5 miles on a hilly course after not running in far too long), hamster wheel - 6 (for the general head-fuckery that comes from too much thinking)

What does this mean? This means that

a. I need to stick to a training plan for races. Chasing away the crazy on my own could be a full-time job and require a personal assistant, or I could just run.

b. I need to follow the path that leads to more opera singing, not the path that seems the least complicated because I'm feeling a little unsure. Everything else can be worked out.

c. I need to go into every audition and do my job because I'm damn good at my job.

I rock. You rock. We all rock. And we will live to kick the shit out of the hamster wheel another day.